My sister Mary was in town this weekend, and she agreed to drive with us to one of Shef's cross country meets. It was far - like an hour and a half - and because it's billed as "The World's Biggest Cross Country Meet," you have to park literally miles from the start of the race.

All of this is to say, coming to the meet was a major time suck for her, and she did it anyway. Thanks, Mary!

On the way home, she got to witness a strategy I use to keep the peace in the miniature van. The kids get to alternate song choices on Spotify. As the selections began, I gave a pronouncement, a necessity now that Shef's in eighth grade and listens to the vilest music I've ever heard.

"Okay," I said, "let's keep it clean. No n-words and not too many f-words."

I didn't think anything of this decree, but Mary started laughing so hard she choked on her water.

"What?" I said.

"High standards!" she coughed.

"Yes," I laughed, "A+ parenting over here. Take notes on how it's done! If you need parenting advice, you know whom to call!"

We howled.

It was funny, but the message was clear; and I stand by it: Some f-words are okay, but NOT TOO MANY.

Last week sometime one of my students told me we had 22 days left of school. I'm usually counting down myself by now, but this year I'm not. It's pretty much been a spectacular year.

I'm sure the summer will be awesome, too, but it's always nice to appreciate what you have while you have it.

In that vein, I'll also mention that Mac is currently napping and I just got finished running to Shakira. If you're ever having a hard time getting yourself to go exercise, my advice is to try Shakira or Kelly Clarkson. Make those your channels on Pandora. Your partner might make fun of you when you come home still dancing to "She Wolf," but that's a small price to pay for fitness.

Finally after months and months of loneliness and despair on my part, my sister will be home in 27 days. I cannot adequately express my relief and happiness about this fact.

My immense relief and happiness survived even her very first homecoming request: she wants us to get pedicures together.

My birth mother (her mother) communicated this desire to me, and I mustered as much enthusiasm as possible.

"I'll totally do that," I said, gamely.

"Won't it be fun?" Martha asked, excited.

"Well," I continued, "you know I don't currently have any toenails."

That wasn't quite true. I do, at this moment, have 5.5 toenails of the usual 10.

Still, it's probably going to be the best homecoming ever.