Writing on the wall

We took the fam - and some extended fam - to a hip little pizza and pub in the big city on Saturday night.

The lighting was dim.  The music was loud; which drowned out the endless noises from our squawking 19 month old.  The walls were covered with paintings of old cowboys and Indians.  Over-sized taxidermy hung high on the walls.

And the pizza was fresh, rustic and oh-so cheesy.

Twice during this dining out experience I traipsed to the restroom with little girls in tow. 

The bathroom walls were completely covered in hand-written messages. 

My four-year-old asked, "What's all that say?"

It says, "The pizza tastes great!" honey.

However, my eight-year-old and her two older cousins lingered (for too long) taking it all in.

Some messages made them giggle.

If you sprinkle when you tinkle, be a sweetie and wipe the seatie.

Some inspired them.

Reach for the stars

Others confused them:

He's called an 'ex' for a reason

If Cinderella's shoe fit, why did one fall off?

The big girls giggled and chatted about their eye-opening experience for the rest of the evening.

And I - a grown-up girl trying to reclaim my lil' corner of the blog-o-sphere - thought about those words, too.

The urge to strike at the keyboard has been welling up inside of me once again.  Words and stories are spinning around in my head, and just like the gals in the lounge at the pub after a few drinks and a slice of pie, my thoughts need a place to rest. 

Maybe it's because of my dad's encouragement.  Maybe it's because I need an escape from my toddler chasing, preschool shuttling, laundry folding, 4H leading, sight word teaching, supper making, basketball coaching, 'how-to-tie your shoe' and 'don't forget your show and tell' life.  Maybe it's because other writers inspire me to craft my own words into the story of my life.

Whatever the reason....

the writing is on the wall.

It's time, once again, to hear from the Potted Goose.


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