When I am 100
When I am 100 I will have white haire. I will have alot of rinckules. I will have a wheel chaire maybe. I will be in a retirede home. I might play hide and seek. I hope I will see my grand children alot. Wene my grand children come I will let them have ice cream and maybe crackers.
Elizabeth Mlinek
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Thursday, March 20, 2008
All About Bejabbers
Abbers Bejabbers, that is.
Before going into Pittsburgh, Abbie had her bi-monthly (or so) MRI. They knew that we were leaving town, so the oncologists graciously took the extra time to look over the scans while Chris and Abbie were still there, so that we wouldn't have to spend the weekend worrying about the results. No tumor growth! More of that "unremarkable" wonderfulness. :)
We were worried that her hand strength had declined veeeeeeeeery slightly, so the wait for this scan was more nerve-racking than usual, but it's looking like the apparent weakening is mostly due to Abbie being a lazy 3 year old who sometimes just doesn't want to pull up her own underwear. She was a champ at the hospital, though. As always. It's like she read all those articles about the stereotypical brave/plucky/saintly cancer kids and decided to make that her MO. She follows instructions exactly, never complains (even when it involves needles), and keeps smiling and laughing throughout. She even, when offered a stuffed animal, politely declined, telling the nurse that she has enough toys right now, thank you. (Granted, Abbie had a point. I could literally fill a walk-in closet with all the stuffed animals and various other toys this kid has been showered with at hospitals. People see that little cloud of golden hair and are immediately compelled to lay offerings of teddy bears and baby bunnies at her feet.)
I'm proud of this kid. And, too, I am so grateful for this time we have with her. She just gets sweeter, and funnier - so much funnier! - with every day. She is just the quirkiest little thing, and I am often awed by the privilege I've been given to be her mother.
I recently bought some pomegranate-scented hand soap for my bathroom, and for some reason Abbie is just in love with it. She generally uses the hall bathroom, but several times a day I will see in my peripheral vision a streak of naked toddler coming out of the bathroom, and hear a distinctive little hee hee hee giggle. It's just Abbie, "sneaking" into my room to get a shot of the smelly-soap. Once her hands have been washed (and her pants put back on, without help if she is feeling like a big girl, with help if she's in a hurry) she'll invariable make me smell the faint traces of pomegranate, and smile up at me, waiting to hear how beautiful she smells. And I tell her that she smells beautiful. I say it every time. And I thank God for this miracle, that my little girl is here, and healthy, and obsessed with smelly soap.
Before going into Pittsburgh, Abbie had her bi-monthly (or so) MRI. They knew that we were leaving town, so the oncologists graciously took the extra time to look over the scans while Chris and Abbie were still there, so that we wouldn't have to spend the weekend worrying about the results. No tumor growth! More of that "unremarkable" wonderfulness. :)
We were worried that her hand strength had declined veeeeeeeeery slightly, so the wait for this scan was more nerve-racking than usual, but it's looking like the apparent weakening is mostly due to Abbie being a lazy 3 year old who sometimes just doesn't want to pull up her own underwear. She was a champ at the hospital, though. As always. It's like she read all those articles about the stereotypical brave/plucky/saintly cancer kids and decided to make that her MO. She follows instructions exactly, never complains (even when it involves needles), and keeps smiling and laughing throughout. She even, when offered a stuffed animal, politely declined, telling the nurse that she has enough toys right now, thank you. (Granted, Abbie had a point. I could literally fill a walk-in closet with all the stuffed animals and various other toys this kid has been showered with at hospitals. People see that little cloud of golden hair and are immediately compelled to lay offerings of teddy bears and baby bunnies at her feet.)
I'm proud of this kid. And, too, I am so grateful for this time we have with her. She just gets sweeter, and funnier - so much funnier! - with every day. She is just the quirkiest little thing, and I am often awed by the privilege I've been given to be her mother.
I recently bought some pomegranate-scented hand soap for my bathroom, and for some reason Abbie is just in love with it. She generally uses the hall bathroom, but several times a day I will see in my peripheral vision a streak of naked toddler coming out of the bathroom, and hear a distinctive little hee hee hee giggle. It's just Abbie, "sneaking" into my room to get a shot of the smelly-soap. Once her hands have been washed (and her pants put back on, without help if she is feeling like a big girl, with help if she's in a hurry) she'll invariable make me smell the faint traces of pomegranate, and smile up at me, waiting to hear how beautiful she smells. And I tell her that she smells beautiful. I say it every time. And I thank God for this miracle, that my little girl is here, and healthy, and obsessed with smelly soap.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Happy St Patty's Day!
Last weekend we went to one of my favorite events in the world: the Pittsburgh St. Patrick's Day Parade! There are certainly fancier parades to be had, but in my mind you just can't beat a day spent watching dozens of mediocre high school marching bands, random groups of who-knows-who marching for who-knows-why, some of them wearing medieval garb, some of them wearing comfy sweats, some of them wearing chicken costumes.
I freaking loved it.
It was the day before my mom's 60th birthday (Happy Bday, Mom!) and thanks to Uncle Mike and his family, and Rach, we managed to surprise her on the way to the parade. The day began in the premium spots secured by Bobby and Margaret, drinking coffee spiked with Bailey's, and ended with a party at Uncle Mike's, drinking coffee spiked with Bailey's. Perfect.
I'm editing heavily here, partly because it's not possible to describe the awesomeness that is the Pgh St. Patty's Day Parade, partly because it's not possible to describe how happy and amused and heartsick I felt to spend an entire day with my family, something I haven't done in a long while. You guys will never totally know how much I love all of you, and how much the craziness that is the Chesters is a fundamental part of me. I might not join in on the most outlandish events (for instance, I kept my pants dry - and, ahem, on- all day) but I love you, too, for the rambunctiousness I've always envied in some (who am I kidding? most) of you. I really didn't need to see those pictures of Uncle Bob without his pants, though.
Anyway, here's a picture that I think sums up what I love best about Pittsburgh, and my family.
Thanks for a great weekend, everyone! And Happy Birthday Mom! I love you.
My favorite Irish cop (and Uncle Ron.)
I freaking loved it.
It was the day before my mom's 60th birthday (Happy Bday, Mom!) and thanks to Uncle Mike and his family, and Rach, we managed to surprise her on the way to the parade. The day began in the premium spots secured by Bobby and Margaret, drinking coffee spiked with Bailey's, and ended with a party at Uncle Mike's, drinking coffee spiked with Bailey's. Perfect.
I'm editing heavily here, partly because it's not possible to describe the awesomeness that is the Pgh St. Patty's Day Parade, partly because it's not possible to describe how happy and amused and heartsick I felt to spend an entire day with my family, something I haven't done in a long while. You guys will never totally know how much I love all of you, and how much the craziness that is the Chesters is a fundamental part of me. I might not join in on the most outlandish events (for instance, I kept my pants dry - and, ahem, on- all day) but I love you, too, for the rambunctiousness I've always envied in some (who am I kidding? most) of you. I really didn't need to see those pictures of Uncle Bob without his pants, though.
Anyway, here's a picture that I think sums up what I love best about Pittsburgh, and my family.
Thanks for a great weekend, everyone! And Happy Birthday Mom! I love you.
My favorite Irish cop (and Uncle Ron.)
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
I'd love to see a trained theologian tackle questions like these on a daily basis
We were listening to Gorecki's Miserere this afternoon, which led into a discussion about Christ's Passion.
"I know why Jesus was killed!" proclaimed Abbie. I asked her why.
"Because Jesus killed that other guy!" she confidently told me.
"Who?" I asked, trying to buy myself some time.
Abbie rolled her eyes at me and squinched up her face in that way that only she can do, "You know, that other guy."
I can't figure out who she means by "that other guy." It's all so very vague and toddler-ish. I think she may mean Lazarus, and I can kind of see why she thinks that, but I can't be sure. In any case, I tried very hard to assure her that Jesus never murdered anybody. Claire tried to help me.
"Jesus was nice!" she told Abbie. "It would not be good if Jesus was mean."
Abbie and I both agreed that it would indeed not be good.
"If Jesus was mean we would be in trouble!" said Claire.
"Yeah!" said Abbie, "Then he would kill that other guy!"
Later on, same day, Abbie suddenly yelled out, "God can hear everything we say! I know why He can - it's because God gots ears. He gots ears. Big ears! That's why He can hear me."
I told Abbie that God can indeed hear everything she says, but that He can also hear what is in her heart and mind.
"God doesn't just hear you like regular people - He can still hear you just fine even if you only talk to him in your mind."
She considered this a minute and then said, "Sure! But God still has ears!"
I am not going to tell her that God is not exactly some big Dumbo in the sky. I'm just going to hope that this one works itself out over time. But I can't help but wonder when we have these kind of discussions how in the world kids can up with such impossibly complex questions and misunderstandings. You can never be sure how well you really understand things like the mystery of the Eucharist until you try to explain it to your 5 year old, and realize how stupid you sound, and just how little you actually know. Kids are an amazing source of humility that way, although they are also an amazing source of insight as well.
Claire said, "It would not be good if Jesus was mean!" And she was totally right, in a crazy-profound way. It's pretty easy to take for granted the idea that God is good. What if He wasn't? What if He was mean? It shocked me how clearly Claire could see this : Jesus has to be good. Nothing - nothing in the whole world - makes sense if He isn't.
"I know why Jesus was killed!" proclaimed Abbie. I asked her why.
"Because Jesus killed that other guy!" she confidently told me.
"Who?" I asked, trying to buy myself some time.
Abbie rolled her eyes at me and squinched up her face in that way that only she can do, "You know, that other guy."
I can't figure out who she means by "that other guy." It's all so very vague and toddler-ish. I think she may mean Lazarus, and I can kind of see why she thinks that, but I can't be sure. In any case, I tried very hard to assure her that Jesus never murdered anybody. Claire tried to help me.
"Jesus was nice!" she told Abbie. "It would not be good if Jesus was mean."
Abbie and I both agreed that it would indeed not be good.
"If Jesus was mean we would be in trouble!" said Claire.
"Yeah!" said Abbie, "Then he would kill that other guy!"
Later on, same day, Abbie suddenly yelled out, "God can hear everything we say! I know why He can - it's because God gots ears. He gots ears. Big ears! That's why He can hear me."
I told Abbie that God can indeed hear everything she says, but that He can also hear what is in her heart and mind.
"God doesn't just hear you like regular people - He can still hear you just fine even if you only talk to him in your mind."
She considered this a minute and then said, "Sure! But God still has ears!"
I am not going to tell her that God is not exactly some big Dumbo in the sky. I'm just going to hope that this one works itself out over time. But I can't help but wonder when we have these kind of discussions how in the world kids can up with such impossibly complex questions and misunderstandings. You can never be sure how well you really understand things like the mystery of the Eucharist until you try to explain it to your 5 year old, and realize how stupid you sound, and just how little you actually know. Kids are an amazing source of humility that way, although they are also an amazing source of insight as well.
Claire said, "It would not be good if Jesus was mean!" And she was totally right, in a crazy-profound way. It's pretty easy to take for granted the idea that God is good. What if He wasn't? What if He was mean? It shocked me how clearly Claire could see this : Jesus has to be good. Nothing - nothing in the whole world - makes sense if He isn't.
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
a letter to Beth from our neighbor
Dear Elizabeth you are my seckint best friend in the warld that I know. I like to play cats with you and Taylor. I hope you do to I like siting with you. I like you so much. I like working next to you You are nice to me. And I am nice to you. And that is how we get ulong. We both like each athar.
This letter cracks me up! It's not only adorable, it highlights what a sweet and selfless kid Beth is: it never occured to her that it was anything other than an honor to be Sabrina's "seckint best friend."
This letter cracks me up! It's not only adorable, it highlights what a sweet and selfless kid Beth is: it never occured to her that it was anything other than an honor to be Sabrina's "seckint best friend."
Friday, February 29, 2008
Katie's School Paper on New Year's Eve or How My Children Are Determined To Make Us Look As Bad As Possible In Public
Compare and contrast your New Year's Eve traditions with those in the story.
(I've put Katie's answer in descending order for maximum impact.)
My New Year's Eve Tradition
3. I stay up late
2. I stay home
1. I drink!
I asked Katie why in the world she wrote, "I drink!" She explained that she gets to drink all the pop she wants, and that it is her favorite part of New Years. She claims that she's never heard of adults referring to imbibing too much alcohol as "drinking." She claims that she figured her teacher would know that she meant, "I drink orange soda," and so she didn't feel the need to elaborate.
The fact is, though, that I drink=I like pop is self evident to nobody but Katie. I can only guess what her teacher must think.
(I've put Katie's answer in descending order for maximum impact.)
My New Year's Eve Tradition
3. I stay up late
2. I stay home
1. I drink!
I asked Katie why in the world she wrote, "I drink!" She explained that she gets to drink all the pop she wants, and that it is her favorite part of New Years. She claims that she's never heard of adults referring to imbibing too much alcohol as "drinking." She claims that she figured her teacher would know that she meant, "I drink orange soda," and so she didn't feel the need to elaborate.
The fact is, though, that I drink=I like pop is self evident to nobody but Katie. I can only guess what her teacher must think.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
In the car this morning
Abbie, to me: The stench in the air is what makes my breath so stinky!
Yes, she really did say, "stench."
Yes, she really did say, "stench."
Monday, February 25, 2008
My gift to you (sort of)
I believe that podcasts are one of the greatest gifts God has given to housewives (aside from grace, and children and that kind of stuff.) You can listen to them on headphones (so you can actually listen to them, because your children aren't trying to scream over the radio. They are talking in an excessively loud voice, but nothing unusual, and the younger ones still don't understand that the slight movement of your finger is you turning the volume way up to drown them out. Also, you don't have to worry so much about the content of your podcast. I once forgot myself and listened in the car to an entire interview on NPR with the creator of The Wire. Never again. The questions Claire spent the next three days asking me were way over my pay grade.)
Another benefit to podcasts are that they make cleaning fun! A dirty bathroom all by itself is a horror, but combine an amusing little show on headphones with a DVD of Bear in the Big Blue House for the kids, and you have an hour of actual enjoyment. The fact that it ends with a toilet that doesn't make you gag just seems like a bonus!
Finally, podcasts are (for the most part) free! A little sprinkling of fun, a dab of actual...you know, smart-making stuff, the headphones for privacy and peace.....and it doesn't cost a dime!
My only problem is that I burn through my favorite podcasts at an alarming rate. I was seriously bereaved when Penn Jillette (of Penn and Teller) cancelled his radio show - that was an hour of podcast a day that I could count on being amusing and sometimes even, um, you know....smart-making. I have discovered something that has just blown me away, though, and I feel the need to share. Dr.Peter Kreeft has a podcast!
I have a couple of his books, but I've never actually read them. His name vaguely makes me think of Kraft, and any association with mac and cheese at this point makes me slightly nauseous. I found his article about his daughter's brain tumor very helpful, I think I may have even linked to it from here at the time, but for some reason I never looked into the guy any further.
Well, his talks are a revelation. His podcasts are the recordings of live talks he has given around the country, and he is an excellent speaker. If you are looking for a mental pick-me-up, this is the place to find it. Check it out (you can also find these in itunes by searching for "Kreeft" under "podcasts." Please, you will be so glad you did.
(By the way, this guy is a philosopher. I hesitate to mention it, because I'm sure some people will hear that and think, "Eh." But he's easy to understand - even for a woman who has spent the past 8 years allowing her children to wear mismatched socks. He surfs! He loves CS Lewis and Tolkien! He's a Redsocks fan! Nothing scary here. :)
Insofar as we think about the method, we're not doing it. Insofar as you think about what notes you are playing, you're not playing them. Total self-forgetfulness, total honesty and total love is the most effective apologetic.
Peter Kreeft
Another benefit to podcasts are that they make cleaning fun! A dirty bathroom all by itself is a horror, but combine an amusing little show on headphones with a DVD of Bear in the Big Blue House for the kids, and you have an hour of actual enjoyment. The fact that it ends with a toilet that doesn't make you gag just seems like a bonus!
Finally, podcasts are (for the most part) free! A little sprinkling of fun, a dab of actual...you know, smart-making stuff, the headphones for privacy and peace.....and it doesn't cost a dime!
My only problem is that I burn through my favorite podcasts at an alarming rate. I was seriously bereaved when Penn Jillette (of Penn and Teller) cancelled his radio show - that was an hour of podcast a day that I could count on being amusing and sometimes even, um, you know....smart-making. I have discovered something that has just blown me away, though, and I feel the need to share. Dr.Peter Kreeft has a podcast!
I have a couple of his books, but I've never actually read them. His name vaguely makes me think of Kraft, and any association with mac and cheese at this point makes me slightly nauseous. I found his article about his daughter's brain tumor very helpful, I think I may have even linked to it from here at the time, but for some reason I never looked into the guy any further.
Well, his talks are a revelation. His podcasts are the recordings of live talks he has given around the country, and he is an excellent speaker. If you are looking for a mental pick-me-up, this is the place to find it. Check it out (you can also find these in itunes by searching for "Kreeft" under "podcasts." Please, you will be so glad you did.
(By the way, this guy is a philosopher. I hesitate to mention it, because I'm sure some people will hear that and think, "Eh." But he's easy to understand - even for a woman who has spent the past 8 years allowing her children to wear mismatched socks. He surfs! He loves CS Lewis and Tolkien! He's a Redsocks fan! Nothing scary here. :)
Insofar as we think about the method, we're not doing it. Insofar as you think about what notes you are playing, you're not playing them. Total self-forgetfulness, total honesty and total love is the most effective apologetic.
Peter Kreeft
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Found objects
Discovered laying around the kitchen:
Beth's paper from school
Imagine you are at your best friend's house and he or she won't share a toy with you. Write a letter to try and pursuade him or her to share.
Dear Ehen,
Can I share a toy gun whith you? We could play star wares and pretend to shout bad guys. We could pretend to be in dinisor time and shout dinisores. We could pretend to be in a forest and shout pretend tigers and liones. It could be fun!
Your friend,
Elizabeth
Katie's notes to herself
QS for (her student teacher)
1. Do you have a pet?
2. How old are you?
3. Are you going to become a teacher?
4. Do you have an older sister?
5. Do you have a younger sister?
6. Do you have an older brother?
7. Do you have a younger brother?
8. How many is their in all including you in your family?
9. Do you like teaching?
10. Do you like answering questions?
11. Is their a pacific subject you want to teach?
12. Do you get to grade papers?
13. Do you like telling us what to do?
14. Do you like our class?
15. Do you like reccess?
(These questions, by the way, aren't for a school assignment or anything. Katie just wants to know. She's left plenty of space for more questions should she happen to think up any more. I hope the student teacher is provided with supernatural patience.)
Beth's paper from school
Imagine you are at your best friend's house and he or she won't share a toy with you. Write a letter to try and pursuade him or her to share.
Dear Ehen,
Can I share a toy gun whith you? We could play star wares and pretend to shout bad guys. We could pretend to be in dinisor time and shout dinisores. We could pretend to be in a forest and shout pretend tigers and liones. It could be fun!
Your friend,
Elizabeth
Katie's notes to herself
QS for (her student teacher)
1. Do you have a pet?
2. How old are you?
3. Are you going to become a teacher?
4. Do you have an older sister?
5. Do you have a younger sister?
6. Do you have an older brother?
7. Do you have a younger brother?
8. How many is their in all including you in your family?
9. Do you like teaching?
10. Do you like answering questions?
11. Is their a pacific subject you want to teach?
12. Do you get to grade papers?
13. Do you like telling us what to do?
14. Do you like our class?
15. Do you like reccess?
(These questions, by the way, aren't for a school assignment or anything. Katie just wants to know. She's left plenty of space for more questions should she happen to think up any more. I hope the student teacher is provided with supernatural patience.)
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Romance
Happy St. Valentine's Day! We are all sick here, so we kept things pretty low-key. I made chocolate-filled pastries for breakfast (which the kids hated) and a flourless chocolate-hazelnut cake with coffee ice cream for dessert (which the kids hated), and Chris whipped up some perfectly cooked delmonico steaks with a rosemary wine sauce for dinner (which the kids hated), so I would say that V-day around here was a success.Claire began the day by inventing a song that has stuck in my head all. day. long. The lyrics are (frighteningly) as follows:
The girlfriends! And the boyfriends!
They love each other!
They love each other, and they marry each other!
Oh the girlfriends and the boyfriends!
Later that afternoon, Chris and I took advantage of a quiet moment to exchange cards. Every year we just write little letters to each other for Valentine's Day, so we both read our cards and then met in the middle of the kitchen to give each other a hug. As I went up on my tiptoes to give my husband a little kiss for Valentine's Day a voice suddenly piped out loudly from the bathroom beside us.
"I'm going to make a poopie!" yelled Abbie.
We paused, then smiled and rolled our eyes at each other before I went up on my tiptoes again.
"It's a big one!" immediately came that distinctive little voice, "Wow, it's pretty stinky in here!"
It was very romantic.
On top of everything else, poor little Lucy is very sick. She hasn't been sleeping well, and the poor thing has just been exhausted and frustrated all day. So here's a parting picture of tired little Lucy, asleep in her highchair just before dinner.
Notice, as well, how I've subtly managed to place that gorgeous flower arrangement in every picture? Chris very much so surprised me with that, as we usually really only do the card thing. (The flower delivery guy was impressed as well, I could tell, since he came to the front door: the door we never use because the path that leads to it was long ago reclaimed by the - muddy- earth, and the wooden steps that connect to it are, besides shedding half of the peeled white paint, warped and sagging, preventing the screen door from latching. So this man, in order to present me with this huge bouquet of flowers, had to stand on those rickety steps while I first had to kick all of the coats into the living room to access the door, and then had to un-do the bungee cord that we've tastefully employed to keep the screen door from flying away. I'm guessing that he was thinking the flower-money would have been better employed on other things, perhaps a bungie cord that doesn't clash with the decor. I was just happy with the flowers, though!)
Here you go, Andy!
Chris had his first cooking class, "knife skills" on Monday but he had to miss it. It was really a shame.
He missed the class because he sliced off the top of his finger while chopping herbs.
And actually, the herbs aren't supposed to be chopped at all - lightly pinching the stem and running your fingers down it cause the thyme to simply fall off in perfect little flakes.
So, it was a real shame that he missed that class.
The jury (me) is still out on whether he needs to go see a doctor or not. The top of the finger wasn't technically severed; it is still hanging on by a thread, like Nearly Headless Nick's neck. Part of his nail came off, but it is still attached to the flap of rogue skin hanging off of his finger, and that seems.....uh, not ideal, in my opinion. The attendant at the gas station claims that Chris doesn't need to see no stinkin' doctor, though, so what do I know.
In any case, his brother naturally wants to see the wound. Every single picture I took is fuzzy, for some reason, but it gives you the general idea. Hope you're impressed, Andy. As to everyone else, you might want to avert your eyes.
Friday, February 08, 2008
There is charisma, and then there is scary, sold-your-soul, mesmerizing charisma. You decide.
Beth loves words. She loves learning what big words mean, and integrating them into her vocabulary. She also just loves the way some words sound, and she'll often repeat new words to herself over and over as she is doing chores, just for the pure joy the sound makes.
Yesterday, as she was doing her homework she began to repeat something over and over. "Barack Obama," she said. "Barack Obama. Barackobama. Barackobama."
"Where did you hear that?" I asked her.
"On the news. I think it's the name of some guy. Is he the new president?"
No, I told her, he isn't. At least not yet. Beth lost interest and went back to her homework, until a few minutes later I heard it again. She couldn't help herself.
"Barack Obama," she said as she scribbled the answer to a math question, "Barack Obama. Barackobama."
Yesterday, as she was doing her homework she began to repeat something over and over. "Barack Obama," she said. "Barack Obama. Barackobama. Barackobama."
"Where did you hear that?" I asked her.
"On the news. I think it's the name of some guy. Is he the new president?"
No, I told her, he isn't. At least not yet. Beth lost interest and went back to her homework, until a few minutes later I heard it again. She couldn't help herself.
"Barack Obama," she said as she scribbled the answer to a math question, "Barack Obama. Barackobama."
Monday, February 04, 2008
She likes what she sees
Abbie, to her reflection in the mirror:
You are golden!
I am golden!
I love you, golden girl!
She then blew herself a kiss and wandered away.
There really is such a thing as too much self-esteem.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Monday, January 21, 2008
Outside of the Castle of Miracles
Let's see if I've done this right.
If I have, these pictures should show you where we have been for the past week! Look for a huge old post soon detailing how wonderful the trip was, and in particular how wonderful both the Make a Wish Foundation and Give Kids the World Village are!!!!
If I have, these pictures should show you where we have been for the past week! Look for a huge old post soon detailing how wonderful the trip was, and in particular how wonderful both the Make a Wish Foundation and Give Kids the World Village are!!!!
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Time for a break
Things have been kind of crazy around here lately, so I think I'm going to take a break from the blog for a while. Check back in a month or two, hopefully I'll be back in form by then.
And I know it needs to be said: No, I am not pregnant. :)
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