My ex-husband called to give me yet another lame excuse as to why he hasn't paid child support this month. Or um, EVER.
In retaliation, I put Jill on the phone.
For two hours straight she has been teaching him Hannah Montana songs. And fussing at him for not having a good singing voice.
I might let her stay up late tonight, you know, if she needs some extra time to get in a Jonas Brothers song or two.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Monday, April 7, 2008
It's the thought that counts.
This morning, I snapped at Kenny over something small. And really, it didn't even affect me. It wasn't me who would be late this morning for not getting Emmi up on time. It was him. So there was no point getting irritated with him. I felt bad.
I thought about cooking him a big meal as an apology, but lets face it, I don't really cook. The house is already clean, so he won't be thrilled to come home to a clean a house. He has cold beer in the fridge, and, really, he doesn't drink them on the weekdays anyway. I had all day to come up with something. I really did owe him an apology.
The bus was late, because of construction at the entrance to our neighborhood. I took advantage of the few extra moments to sit outside in the sunshine. It was then I noticed the weeds in the flower beds. And the leaves. Geez. You would think, with a landscaping company that we would have the nicest yard on the block, not the one that needed to be mowed. But what's the saying about the shoemaker's children? (Although really, you have to see our backyard...it kicks ass.)
While I waited, I picked weeds. I had both flower beds finished before the bus arrived. I wheeled the trash can out to throw the leaves into it. The bus arrived, and Emmi settled down next to me to watch my work. I grabbed one handful of leaves. Then another. Then anoth....wah...are the leaves moving? And the I see them. Snakes. Two or three on the ground, and several in my hands. I scream, throwing snakes into the air, and running for my life, leaving Emmi behind to fend for herself.
And you know, I never did finish picking up the leaves. But hey, it's the thought that counts.
I thought about cooking him a big meal as an apology, but lets face it, I don't really cook. The house is already clean, so he won't be thrilled to come home to a clean a house. He has cold beer in the fridge, and, really, he doesn't drink them on the weekdays anyway. I had all day to come up with something. I really did owe him an apology.
The bus was late, because of construction at the entrance to our neighborhood. I took advantage of the few extra moments to sit outside in the sunshine. It was then I noticed the weeds in the flower beds. And the leaves. Geez. You would think, with a landscaping company that we would have the nicest yard on the block, not the one that needed to be mowed. But what's the saying about the shoemaker's children? (Although really, you have to see our backyard...it kicks ass.)
While I waited, I picked weeds. I had both flower beds finished before the bus arrived. I wheeled the trash can out to throw the leaves into it. The bus arrived, and Emmi settled down next to me to watch my work. I grabbed one handful of leaves. Then another. Then anoth....wah...are the leaves moving? And the I see them. Snakes. Two or three on the ground, and several in my hands. I scream, throwing snakes into the air, and running for my life, leaving Emmi behind to fend for herself.
And you know, I never did finish picking up the leaves. But hey, it's the thought that counts.
Sunday, April 6, 2008
By the way, forty isn't old!
My neighbors are all at least ten to fifteen years older than Kenny and I. They try to make this apparent as often as possible. Since we moved in, they jokes about us looking like high schoolers or the nanny are endless. The thing is. Kenny and I find it funny. We know it is because we make them insecure. And being Kenny and I, instead of acknowledging that and letting it go, we play up their insecurities. Often. In as many ways as possible.
We got home from Bastrop around lunchtime Sunday. I wanted to get at least an hour of work in before I took the kids swimming. I managed to get in almost two before they asked. I sent the girls up to change into their swimsuits. I am standing at the bottom of the staircase, when I see the neighbor's daughter walking up to our house. Shit. I don't want anyone over here. I was planning on a quick swim, then a quiet afternoon while I worked some more. I ran up the stairs, shutting the door to Jill's room, praying that Jill would not hear the doorbell ring. The dogs are barking like crazy. I watch Jill to see if she notices. Nothing. I take my time getting the girls into their swimsuits, guaranteeing the coast will be clear before we head downstairs.
Crisis averted, the girls and I settle in outside. I cover them in sunscreen. I set up towel on my lounger. I take a sip from my glass of ice water, and take the first magazine off of my pile. The girls have jumpd into the pool, my cell phone rings, and I check the caller ID. It is my neighbor. Seriously? Your kid just knocked. No one answered. That should give you your answer. I hit the ignore button, and go back to my magazine.
A few minutes pass. I hear a car out front. Then. I hear someone calling my name, and the latch at the gate rattling. You. Have. Got. To. Be. Kidding. Me. I put down my magazine, and make the kids get out of the pool. I can't watch them and make my way through the dog run to the gate. The kids are mad. They just got in. I open the gate to find my neighbor standing on the other side, her daughter standing next to her...in her swimsuit, with a towel and a change of clothes.
"Hi," she says, smiling. "I figured you guys might be in the pool. We tried the front door, and I tried to call."
I stare at her. This is when most people give up. Not going barging into other people's backyards.
Her smile begins to falter, slightly. But she has a mission. "Anyway, we thought we would see if Jill wanted to play." Obviously by "play" she means, her daughter swim in our pool. Jill does not look game. The girls have not been getting along lately. But I don't know how to say no to the little girl who is standing three feet from my pool already clad in her bathing suit. Damn. Her mom is good.
"Uh sure," I reply. Jill gives me a look. I mouth "sorry" to Jill.
"Okay, well I am off to run some errands. Her dad is home if they get tired of playing. But she brought a change of clothes over, so she can stay for awhile." And with that, she is gone. And suddenly this no longer feels like a play date, and more like babysitting while her good-for-nothing husband sits at home on his ass.
After an hour of swimming, my children are ready to go inside. They swim everyday. It is nothing exciting. They don't need endless hours of it. The pool will still be there tomorrow. They wrap up in their towels, and sit on pool loungers to dry off in the sun. Devil Neighbor Child begs to swim longer. She attempts to talk Jill into asking me to swim longer. Ha! Jill is halfway in the backdoor. Good try. When it becomes obvious that she is not going to get anymore swimming out of us, she decides she wants to go home. Fine by me. I have work to do. You whine a lot.
As we approach her house, I find the "errand" her mother had to run was actually sitting outside with all of the other mom's in the neighborhood. The all have fruity cocktails, and none of the other children are around. I vaguely remember Jill mentioning some of the others being off with theirs dads and such for the day. This is why her child had to be dumped at my house. I, of course, am not invited, because, well then who would be babysitting her child. As I walk up, one of the moms offers me a chair.
Another mom makes a quip about how as I walked up they were trying to figure out who I was, because I looked like one of the kids...you know, "being small and dressing so young and all."
I smirk. They have made it way too easy. Someone really should warn the idiots. I cock my head to the side. "Hmmmm....well, how should I dress? Old? Like I am forty?" Then I feign embarrassment as I "realize" that is their age. Oops.
We got home from Bastrop around lunchtime Sunday. I wanted to get at least an hour of work in before I took the kids swimming. I managed to get in almost two before they asked. I sent the girls up to change into their swimsuits. I am standing at the bottom of the staircase, when I see the neighbor's daughter walking up to our house. Shit. I don't want anyone over here. I was planning on a quick swim, then a quiet afternoon while I worked some more. I ran up the stairs, shutting the door to Jill's room, praying that Jill would not hear the doorbell ring. The dogs are barking like crazy. I watch Jill to see if she notices. Nothing. I take my time getting the girls into their swimsuits, guaranteeing the coast will be clear before we head downstairs.
Crisis averted, the girls and I settle in outside. I cover them in sunscreen. I set up towel on my lounger. I take a sip from my glass of ice water, and take the first magazine off of my pile. The girls have jumpd into the pool, my cell phone rings, and I check the caller ID. It is my neighbor. Seriously? Your kid just knocked. No one answered. That should give you your answer. I hit the ignore button, and go back to my magazine.
A few minutes pass. I hear a car out front. Then. I hear someone calling my name, and the latch at the gate rattling. You. Have. Got. To. Be. Kidding. Me. I put down my magazine, and make the kids get out of the pool. I can't watch them and make my way through the dog run to the gate. The kids are mad. They just got in. I open the gate to find my neighbor standing on the other side, her daughter standing next to her...in her swimsuit, with a towel and a change of clothes.
"Hi," she says, smiling. "I figured you guys might be in the pool. We tried the front door, and I tried to call."
I stare at her. This is when most people give up. Not going barging into other people's backyards.
Her smile begins to falter, slightly. But she has a mission. "Anyway, we thought we would see if Jill wanted to play." Obviously by "play" she means, her daughter swim in our pool. Jill does not look game. The girls have not been getting along lately. But I don't know how to say no to the little girl who is standing three feet from my pool already clad in her bathing suit. Damn. Her mom is good.
"Uh sure," I reply. Jill gives me a look. I mouth "sorry" to Jill.
"Okay, well I am off to run some errands. Her dad is home if they get tired of playing. But she brought a change of clothes over, so she can stay for awhile." And with that, she is gone. And suddenly this no longer feels like a play date, and more like babysitting while her good-for-nothing husband sits at home on his ass.
After an hour of swimming, my children are ready to go inside. They swim everyday. It is nothing exciting. They don't need endless hours of it. The pool will still be there tomorrow. They wrap up in their towels, and sit on pool loungers to dry off in the sun. Devil Neighbor Child begs to swim longer. She attempts to talk Jill into asking me to swim longer. Ha! Jill is halfway in the backdoor. Good try. When it becomes obvious that she is not going to get anymore swimming out of us, she decides she wants to go home. Fine by me. I have work to do. You whine a lot.
As we approach her house, I find the "errand" her mother had to run was actually sitting outside with all of the other mom's in the neighborhood. The all have fruity cocktails, and none of the other children are around. I vaguely remember Jill mentioning some of the others being off with theirs dads and such for the day. This is why her child had to be dumped at my house. I, of course, am not invited, because, well then who would be babysitting her child. As I walk up, one of the moms offers me a chair.
Another mom makes a quip about how as I walked up they were trying to figure out who I was, because I looked like one of the kids...you know, "being small and dressing so young and all."
I smirk. They have made it way too easy. Someone really should warn the idiots. I cock my head to the side. "Hmmmm....well, how should I dress? Old? Like I am forty?" Then I feign embarrassment as I "realize" that is their age. Oops.
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Go Eagles! And such.
A month or so ago, I got the card in the mail for my high school reunion. I was actually kind of shocked that they found my new address. Then Kenny reminded me that the school probably had access to their own records. And considering we are zoned to our old high school, I was probably easy to find. The post card is sitting on my desk. I still have not decided if I want to go. Now, Kenny's reunion....I am all over, there are so many people I want to see! At dinner last night, Kenny and I start debating whether or not we were going to mine.
I make the point that I keep in contact with several people from my grade. The others, I lost contact with on purpose. I can't honestly think of one person out of the 600+ graduating class that I didn't either have the email address or phone number of that I have any desire to see.
Kenny makes the point that everyday is like a high school reunion. The group we are meeting up with later that evening includes around twenty people. All from our high school. Although, we get creative, we blend graduating classes.
I make yet another point against. Not many of my friends are going. Leah and I talked pretty much the day the cards came in the mail, and neither one of us seemed really thrilled about going. Cate has a wedding that weekend. The list goes one.... Ashley on the other hand, has already planned the whole weekend out for me. Down to what I should wear. She really wants to go. Kenny and her hubby get along good, so we would have fun with them.
But yet, even though I keep coming up with reasons not to go, I think I might. I mean, after all, I am skinnier than I was in high school. And that's what counts, right?
I make the point that I keep in contact with several people from my grade. The others, I lost contact with on purpose. I can't honestly think of one person out of the 600+ graduating class that I didn't either have the email address or phone number of that I have any desire to see.
Kenny makes the point that everyday is like a high school reunion. The group we are meeting up with later that evening includes around twenty people. All from our high school. Although, we get creative, we blend graduating classes.
I make yet another point against. Not many of my friends are going. Leah and I talked pretty much the day the cards came in the mail, and neither one of us seemed really thrilled about going. Cate has a wedding that weekend. The list goes one.... Ashley on the other hand, has already planned the whole weekend out for me. Down to what I should wear. She really wants to go. Kenny and her hubby get along good, so we would have fun with them.
But yet, even though I keep coming up with reasons not to go, I think I might. I mean, after all, I am skinnier than I was in high school. And that's what counts, right?
Thursday, April 3, 2008
A bit of random creepiness.
Emmi does not speak clearly. She can't. Her soft palate is not formed correctly. It is our to-do list of surgeries. But some words are okay. Ones that begin with M sounds, for instance. Or have "ah" or "oo" sounds in them. Kenny, Jill, and I have learned to understand her. Most people have to ask me to translate.
Jill has taken up scrapbooking. I got out the photo albums to let her pick out pictures for her scrapbook. Afterwards, we were going to CVS to make copies of the pictures she choose. Emmi and Jill got side-tracked. They never realized I had so many photo albums of pictures. Their whole lives in photos. That I arranged in order. They sat for a long time looking at photos. Some of them. Some of family members. Some of me and my friends through the years. Emmi pointed to each person, named them, or demanded to know their name. She'd ask, "Oo's ah?" Jill turned the page. It was a group shot of several of my friends from a birthday party. It was the night Kenny got my number. The girls knew a few of the people in the picture.
"That's my Stacy," Jill exclaimed!
"Enny!" Emmi excitedly pointed at Kenny's picture.
Then her hand slid across the page. She became very excited. She was pointing at Matt. My friend who died a few months ago. "MATTHEW," she yelled, in perhaps the clearest voice I have ever heard her use.
I started to visibly shake. Jill asked what was wrong. Then she wanted to know why Emmi thought that person was named "Matthew."
"He is, Jill."
"How did she know that!" Jill asks me, confused, because she knows most people that Emmi knows.
Except I don't have an answer for this. She had never met him.
Jill has taken up scrapbooking. I got out the photo albums to let her pick out pictures for her scrapbook. Afterwards, we were going to CVS to make copies of the pictures she choose. Emmi and Jill got side-tracked. They never realized I had so many photo albums of pictures. Their whole lives in photos. That I arranged in order. They sat for a long time looking at photos. Some of them. Some of family members. Some of me and my friends through the years. Emmi pointed to each person, named them, or demanded to know their name. She'd ask, "Oo's ah?" Jill turned the page. It was a group shot of several of my friends from a birthday party. It was the night Kenny got my number. The girls knew a few of the people in the picture.
"That's my Stacy," Jill exclaimed!
"Enny!" Emmi excitedly pointed at Kenny's picture.
Then her hand slid across the page. She became very excited. She was pointing at Matt. My friend who died a few months ago. "MATTHEW," she yelled, in perhaps the clearest voice I have ever heard her use.
I started to visibly shake. Jill asked what was wrong. Then she wanted to know why Emmi thought that person was named "Matthew."
"He is, Jill."
"How did she know that!" Jill asks me, confused, because she knows most people that Emmi knows.
Except I don't have an answer for this. She had never met him.
Bleh.
I suck at blogging lately. My shoulder hurts. Jill has not been sleeping, therefor I have not been sleeping. Emmi's behavior was so naughty today that I took her home from dance early today. I tried to get a little retail therapy in this morning. But apparently "You can be home at noon for the bus" actually means call me after I leave the house to tell me that you won't be home at noon for the bus even though we just talked about it twenty minutes ago.
So I don't have the energy for blogging. Maybe tomorrow.
So I don't have the energy for blogging. Maybe tomorrow.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Tag!
I have been tagged by Allie over at Friday Night Ambulance for a survey. After posting 100 things about me, I am not sure what exactly more I can say, but here goes.... besides, Allie said I wouldn't do it. That sounds like a dare. We all know I know I don't back down from a dare.
Here are the rules
1) Link to your tagger and post these rules on your blog
2) Share 7 facts about yourself on your blog, some random, some weird.
3) Tag 7 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blogs.
4) Let them know they are tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.
1. I find extreme pleasure in making stupid people look even more stupid. For instance, when the girl at the Nestle store declared my card had been "declined" in front of a line full of people, I made her squirm until she admitted she did not know how to enter the number on the card when it wouldn't read the strip on the back. She kept saying, "Ma'am it was declined." And I kept saying, "Nope. The strip on the back is no good. You have to manually punch in the number." I waited until she had called the manager over and admitted to him that she didn't know how to do it, before I offered one of the other three cards, readily available in my wallet just to keep the line moving. Ha!
2. It stresses me out when my kids are noisy. Or messy. Or you know, anything that resemble kids. If they could sit and be little adults, that would be great. They don't tend to go along with this. I tend to be stressed out a lot. They, on the other hand, are extremely happy!
3. I think I used to be a compulsive shopper. Not big ticket items. Just little things. Now I just obsess over what I want to buy. Like the shorts I currently want. I check them out online at least once a day. I have some from the same company that I love. I wear them once a week. The fit well, are made well, definitely worth the fifty dollars. But somehow I just can't actually purchase them. I just look at them everyday. Sometimes a few times a day. I even get my credit card out at least once a day to buy them. Never do. It is insane. Kenny laughs at me. It is not my fault. It is just the extreme opposite of compulsive shopping. The inability to buy even things I might use.
4. My latest injury is a stress fracture in my scapula...oh yeah, Mom, I went to get an X-ray yesterday. I forgot to tell you. It is fractured. I am supposed to wear a sling, but it makes my back hurt, so instead, I just walk around with my arm stuck to my side like a broken wing. I am not clumsy, but I get lots of stress fractures. My doc thinks I need a bone density test. He said no one should have three stress fractures in less than a year. Especially when all I was doing was leaning over, keeping Emmi from falling into the creek while hiking with my family. But in all fairness, I re-injured an old injury.
5. I am a big time creature of habit. I do it with everything, food, what I wear, what time I do certain things, which routes I take when I drive. I can't go to the bank without going through my old neighborhood. It is slightly out of my way (maybe one or two minutes). But that is the way I always went, since elementary school, riding with my mom. I can't change it up now. That would be craziness! A few months ago, I was craving Quiznos. Apparently it was a Monday. I didn't realize it, but the Quiznos people informed me that I have been their first customer every Monday since. Not only that, but I always look at the menu, as if I decided what to get. I order the exact same thing every time. I also had not noticed he had already started my sandwich before I walked in the door. Like he does every time. It is a sickness.
6. My tastes in clothing, tv, and reading material may never mature beyond high school. Sure, I own some sophisticated pieces of clothing, but I always feel like I am playing dress up. I am most comfortable in a pair of jeans (mind you, the trouser style...not the slouchy kind) and some form of a t-shirt (again, not hanes. Ribbon trimmed or such). And while I occasionally reading intellectual reading material, most often, it is silly books or star magazines. Same for movies and TV. I have a good reason for the books/tv/movies. I have enough drama in my real life, I don't want to deal with it in my escape. About all I can handle is teen angst. I have no good reason for dressing like I am in ninth grade. At least, Jill won't have to take me on Maury for the "My Mom Dresses Too Provocatively" segment.
7. I know I have said it before, but I love coffee. Sometimes, on bad days, I treat myself to a Grande Iced White Mocha at "Fourbucks" (nickname borrowed from David at Life in A Cone of Silence....which has become one of my favorite blogs to read).
Which unofficially becomes number 8. I have taken to reading David's blog. We have learned more about what Emmi might be experiencing through David's blog than we ever could have imagined. Besides, he is just outright funny. And, it is refreshing to find another person who can look at the humor in every situation. It is something we try to do. I am known for moments like when after yelling Jill's name with no response for the ninth time at a block party, I exclaimed, "And Emmi is the deaf one!" Or for laughing hysterically when Emmi runs smack into the side of her bus....the SHORT BUS, none-the-less. Or while Emmi is sleeping off sedation from a hearing test, and the Audiologist is breaking the news that Emmi is profoundly deaf (which actually, I already knew)....in a whisper, as not to wake her....my first question was "So you are saying, she can't hear speaking voices at all?" And after she nods, solemnly, I said, "So why are you whispering?" Some people think these moments are mean. But you have to realize, I chose every day to laugh or to cry. I chose to see that there is a little bit of humor in everything. And I make fun of it. David strikes me as having this kind of quick witted, personality. And he tries to be positive, even given that he has been through quite a lot in the past few months. We should all strive to be like him. Not just to steal his term for Starbucks!
And I know I am supposed to tag other people, but I just don't have the time. I have a lot of work to do today, and Tuesdays are a therapy day. So, hey, at least I filled it out!
Here are the rules
1) Link to your tagger and post these rules on your blog
2) Share 7 facts about yourself on your blog, some random, some weird.
3) Tag 7 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blogs.
4) Let them know they are tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.
1. I find extreme pleasure in making stupid people look even more stupid. For instance, when the girl at the Nestle store declared my card had been "declined" in front of a line full of people, I made her squirm until she admitted she did not know how to enter the number on the card when it wouldn't read the strip on the back. She kept saying, "Ma'am it was declined." And I kept saying, "Nope. The strip on the back is no good. You have to manually punch in the number." I waited until she had called the manager over and admitted to him that she didn't know how to do it, before I offered one of the other three cards, readily available in my wallet just to keep the line moving. Ha!
2. It stresses me out when my kids are noisy. Or messy. Or you know, anything that resemble kids. If they could sit and be little adults, that would be great. They don't tend to go along with this. I tend to be stressed out a lot. They, on the other hand, are extremely happy!
3. I think I used to be a compulsive shopper. Not big ticket items. Just little things. Now I just obsess over what I want to buy. Like the shorts I currently want. I check them out online at least once a day. I have some from the same company that I love. I wear them once a week. The fit well, are made well, definitely worth the fifty dollars. But somehow I just can't actually purchase them. I just look at them everyday. Sometimes a few times a day. I even get my credit card out at least once a day to buy them. Never do. It is insane. Kenny laughs at me. It is not my fault. It is just the extreme opposite of compulsive shopping. The inability to buy even things I might use.
4. My latest injury is a stress fracture in my scapula...oh yeah, Mom, I went to get an X-ray yesterday. I forgot to tell you. It is fractured. I am supposed to wear a sling, but it makes my back hurt, so instead, I just walk around with my arm stuck to my side like a broken wing. I am not clumsy, but I get lots of stress fractures. My doc thinks I need a bone density test. He said no one should have three stress fractures in less than a year. Especially when all I was doing was leaning over, keeping Emmi from falling into the creek while hiking with my family. But in all fairness, I re-injured an old injury.
5. I am a big time creature of habit. I do it with everything, food, what I wear, what time I do certain things, which routes I take when I drive. I can't go to the bank without going through my old neighborhood. It is slightly out of my way (maybe one or two minutes). But that is the way I always went, since elementary school, riding with my mom. I can't change it up now. That would be craziness! A few months ago, I was craving Quiznos. Apparently it was a Monday. I didn't realize it, but the Quiznos people informed me that I have been their first customer every Monday since. Not only that, but I always look at the menu, as if I decided what to get. I order the exact same thing every time. I also had not noticed he had already started my sandwich before I walked in the door. Like he does every time. It is a sickness.
6. My tastes in clothing, tv, and reading material may never mature beyond high school. Sure, I own some sophisticated pieces of clothing, but I always feel like I am playing dress up. I am most comfortable in a pair of jeans (mind you, the trouser style...not the slouchy kind) and some form of a t-shirt (again, not hanes. Ribbon trimmed or such). And while I occasionally reading intellectual reading material, most often, it is silly books or star magazines. Same for movies and TV. I have a good reason for the books/tv/movies. I have enough drama in my real life, I don't want to deal with it in my escape. About all I can handle is teen angst. I have no good reason for dressing like I am in ninth grade. At least, Jill won't have to take me on Maury for the "My Mom Dresses Too Provocatively" segment.
7. I know I have said it before, but I love coffee. Sometimes, on bad days, I treat myself to a Grande Iced White Mocha at "Fourbucks" (nickname borrowed from David at Life in A Cone of Silence....which has become one of my favorite blogs to read).
Which unofficially becomes number 8. I have taken to reading David's blog. We have learned more about what Emmi might be experiencing through David's blog than we ever could have imagined. Besides, he is just outright funny. And, it is refreshing to find another person who can look at the humor in every situation. It is something we try to do. I am known for moments like when after yelling Jill's name with no response for the ninth time at a block party, I exclaimed, "And Emmi is the deaf one!" Or for laughing hysterically when Emmi runs smack into the side of her bus....the SHORT BUS, none-the-less. Or while Emmi is sleeping off sedation from a hearing test, and the Audiologist is breaking the news that Emmi is profoundly deaf (which actually, I already knew)....in a whisper, as not to wake her....my first question was "So you are saying, she can't hear speaking voices at all?" And after she nods, solemnly, I said, "So why are you whispering?" Some people think these moments are mean. But you have to realize, I chose every day to laugh or to cry. I chose to see that there is a little bit of humor in everything. And I make fun of it. David strikes me as having this kind of quick witted, personality. And he tries to be positive, even given that he has been through quite a lot in the past few months. We should all strive to be like him. Not just to steal his term for Starbucks!
And I know I am supposed to tag other people, but I just don't have the time. I have a lot of work to do today, and Tuesdays are a therapy day. So, hey, at least I filled it out!
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