Tragedy struck my house earlier this week. My beloved peacock wreath went MIA.
Now I'm not gonna come straight out and say that it was stolen, but I do suspect foul play.
Came home from work the other day and it was gone. Just gone.
But mama didn't raise no quitter so I unveil...
A little different than version 1.0, but it has filled the void.
I was also reunited with a dear and precious friend yesterday.
This beauty belonged to my Great Grandma Garta back in 1918. I spent my whole childhood dusting it as one of my chores. I've always loved the ornate carving and the fact that it has five pedals. I was told that when I grew up and had a house of my own that I could inherit it.
Yesterday she showed up on my front door courtesy of my sweet Daddy. I cried. Not a pretty cry, but more like sobs. I cried because this piano managed to represent a great-granma I never knew, the trouble my father went through to get it to me, and the fact that I can now share the gift of music with my family for generations to come.
I love it so much.
Peacocks still run this joint. I was lonely while Michael was at work the other night, but then I looked up and saw that like a good neightbor, peacocks are there.
We got a glimpse into the world of parenthood when we got to spend the evening with our nephew Aiden. At first there were no other kids at McDonald's, so Michael jumped in for a rousing game of Hide-and-go-seek.
Goodness we are blessed.