The Day I Felt Pretty Good

Today was my boyfriend.
I hated to see our affair end at sunset.

I woke-up with only a distant desire to heave.
I ate some Oh's which surprisingly buried any morning sickness.
I danced in the shower.
The sun was shining,
my hair curled right
and somehow I even wrestled my way into some
slightly
fish-netted
tights.

We were more than on-time to church.
I love my Sunday School class so much that I could
adopt them all
and make them matching jumpers
from my old floral curtains.

They weren't even judging me when I couldn't,
for the life of me,
pronounce the word "catastrophe"
as it continually stuttered out of my mouth as
"castrophe."

Am I too lazy for the extra syllable?
Maybe.
But don't my imperfections just make me cute?

And oh!
I sat next to my dear May in Relief Society
where they asked her to give the Opening Prayer
for the second time this month.

And though she didn't care to share my offered fruit snacks,
she was more than kind to let me fan myself
in the
ninety-and-nine-degreed room
full of sister senior citz.

(In Spain are they called Seniorita Citz?)

And after church my pink skirt and I
took a tiny nap,
made cookies
and bugged Chup.
There is nothing better than teasing Chupa when
he is feeling his
church-hangover.

We had dinner with my Dad who is
home alone for the week.
Jesse and Lindsay were there with
three gorgeous children
(and one on the way!)

And as I was helping myself to Dad's roasted cabbage
Jesse patted my tummy.

For good luck?
(I hope).

And I only wanted to puke once
when Chup made some smelly gyoza,
but he was so excited to devour those
tenderly fried,
drizzled-in-soy-sauce,
pieces of Oriental culinary cuisine
that I could hardly ruin such a moment.

That would be a catastrophe
(to be sure).

Is there a word
that you have a hard time pronouncing aloud?
Specific?
Spaghetti?
Salutation?

*Photo from Cook Almost Anything At Least Once