Hail from the gloriously high and dry elevation of 7,800 feet. Monument, Colorado…almost heaven.
But anyway, the husband and I slipped out for Mass alone this morning – alone I tell you – and it.was.awesome. Homily? I heard it. Eucharist? I got it. Both readings and the responsorial Psalm? Yep, listened to those too…in order.
Afterwards, I enjoyed a leisurely afternoon of Broncos football, children napping on a separate floor from me, and plenty o’ aunts, uncles and grandparents to hold them allllllll day long.
Then, I conscripted this lovely lady into snapping my weekly selfies:
|Behold, the youngest Senour sister. Ain’t she purdy?|
She obliged, willingly. Let the all-humiliation hour commence.
|Oh, Christmas tree…|
|How lovely are your branches. I just have to touch them.|
|Gaudete Sunday. Nothing says rejoice like a head wreathed in evergreen.|
Outfitted by a thrifty triple threat. I am on fire:
Top: Banana Republic, thrifted
Skirt: Tag ripped out but prooooobably Target, thrifted
Shoes: Nine West, thrifted
Leading me to this little gem, as introduced to mi familia by our recently returned collegiate crew. Warning: F bombs. Like, several. But still…an apt anthem for my awesome.
Forgive my blurry cell phone pix?
Happy Sunday, off to FLAP you go.