Author: Laura Packard

              I stepped in it, y’all.             And I mean both figuratively and literally.               Not too long ago, I was atop my high horse telling everyone who would listen how I was done. Finished.  Absolutely complete. No longer interested in the baby train, dirty diaper, sleepless nights of life on the Midnight Express. 

It’s the most wonderful time of the year, y’all. And I’m not talking about sending the kids back to school after a long spring break with kicked carseats and 17 dozen “are we there, yet?”s. I’m not even talking about National Eat Whatever You Want Day . . . that’s May, 11 so we still have 33 days and 22 hours to go . . . but who’s counting? Nope. I’m talking about Masters Week in Augusta, GA.

Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, “Envy is ignorance.”  And of course, he’s right.  We all envy, or tend to covet, that which we are unaware and don’t know a whole heck of a lot about.

My husband and I are losing our minds. At the same time. We recently had a huge coffee table debate. Our old, really rustic cool coffee table from our previous home had disappeared . . . probably in the move.

Congratulations to all my Episcopal, Catholic, Lutheran and many Protestant friends and family. You are one week in with only a little over five to go. It won’t be long, Livi, until you can cover everything back up again with ketchup so you have no idea what you’re eating anyway.  Margot, it’s only a matter of time before you can start pulling the white things out of your onion rings and eat only the fried crispy goodness again.

“Go to your bosom; knock there, and ask what your heart doth know.” – William Shakespeare I don’t know about y’all, but I love to read a great love story.  Real, imagined, immortalized, tragic, you name it, and I will immerse myself in one at any given time, especially if it involves a warm bath and a good pinot. 

  It’s been 8 months, y’all. And I have to tell you I have enjoyed getting to know all of you and this beautiful town. I guess since we’re through the introductory part of our relationship, I can share with you some more intimate details about myself and who I am.

“I think I’m going through another growth expert.”            This is what my daughter will tell me before she goes to bed one night only to wake up the next morning two inches taller and a whole shoe size up.  I know this has to hurt, this constant growing at a rapid and relentless pace.  All I can do it is sit back and watch it all unfold, or sprout up, as my baby grows taller than me.

  I’m full.        I don’t know about y’all, but I can’t eat another bite… well, unless it’s something chocolate.  The cocoa plant from the gods is simply, to me at least, something akin to a collapsible shoe organizer or a few of those stackable multi-sized Tupperware containers: a reason, if not a vessel, to hoard the things we love and can’t live without until a more appropriate time presents itself sometime in the future (you know, late at night).

There is an old joke about the birth of Christ that goes something like this:           What would have happened if it had been three wise women instead of three wise men?             They would have asked for directions, arrived on time, helped deliver the baby, cleaned the stables, and bought practical gifts.