Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Fair to Middlin'

If you said to me: Bonjour!  Comment ça va
I would reply: Comme ci, comme ça.

If you said to me: Hey darlin'! How ya doin' tah-nigh'?
I would reply: Fair to middlin'

If you said to me: WHAAAAZZUUUP!?
I would ... well, I would not reply to you.

TCoTFW: As a direct result of writing that French phrase up above (which originally said "Comment t'appelle tu?" which means "What is your name" and not "How are you?"), I've just spent 6 minutes with google translator, typing in 11th grade French and trying to remember the right syntax for "I lost my cow on the mountain.  He was wearing a hat".  

I've had a lovely day, a productive day, and am going now to sew something.  Hopefully something inspired and exciting.  Possibly something dull, and there is a chance it will just be downright ugly.  Its just one of those nights.  We've just been given a tornado watch (or warning, which ever is less severe), so I guess it could get more exciting.  It's a wait-and-see situation.

Finally, I have this song stuck in my head.  You're welcome.

Love in a Tornado,

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

My Husband's Supper

I'm a feeder.  I feed people.  Its just what I do.  I have very strong feelings against people going hungry, and so, whenever it is within my power, I like to feed people.  So there's that.

You can imagine, this whole "Handsome is at work 50% of my life" thing really puts a cramp in my ability to feed him.  Of course, I'm sure his cholesterol is breathing a sigh of relief, but that's really not the issue here.  The issue is, I like to feed people, especially people I know, and extra-especially people I care about.  Ergo, I like to provide my husband with food.  

This works out pretty steadily at least once a week, when Handsome is up at his part-time station.  There's only a few FF up there on any given night, and none of them are particularly inclined to cook.  The best part of this deal is, most of them are so excited for a good meal that they're willing to clean the kitchen up after I totally wreck it.  And don't even get me started on that kitchen - nicest one I'll ever be in, I'm sure of it.

The view from the drive up this evening.
You can see the storm coming in over the lake.
Don't worry, I didn't take this while driving...
because my car was stopped...
in the middle of the dike...
on the road...

So once a week, I drive up there and cook dinner for the guys.  There is a little bit of prep work that has to go into this because, although their kitchen is beautiful (granite, convection, gas burners, and a whole bunch of other kitchen words that get cooks all hot and bothered), it's stocked like a bachelor pad.  Lots of coffee, plenty of garlic salt, and tortilla chips.  Aside from that, its a dance-with-the-one-who-brung-ya sort of thing with me & my ingredients.


Today has been mostly chillin' with a side order of snooze, topped with not-a-whole-lot.

It's been fabulously blase (pronounced blah-zey).

Following a series of unfortunate events that left me without much sleep last night, I slept in this morning until 12:14.  Blissdom.  Especially since I woke up feeling much better, the PM hours of today treating me much better than the AM hours.

And let's not even talk about what I ate today.  Except to say that it consisted mostly of meringues and apple juice.

I've also watched the entire 4 seasons of My Boys on Netflix, snoozed on the floor, and did a little hand stitchery, whereby I mean that I stitched by hand, not that I stitched my actual hands.

And then I perused pinterest (because what else does a person do when home all day), and found a recipe for these:

It's cream cheese, pepperoni, and crescent rolls.
Found Here

And I judged.  I did!  Me, the girl who's still in her pajamas and didn't really see any part of the AM of today, who eats sugared egg whites like it's its own food group and went outside only once today (had to get the mail, you know!), that girl - she passed judgement.  I looked at this recipe and thought, "Ha! That's *sarcasm alert* reeeeeeal healthy."


Some days I surprise even myself.

Don't be like me,
Judgey McJudgerson

Sunday, February 26, 2012

Morning Moments

I sent Husband packing the other morning.  Just off to work, nothing serious.  But as he was leaving, I noticed I'd left the grill uncovered, so I went running out to fix it and ...

... and I noticed something.

It was WARM.  Like, warm warm.  Like, 74*F, warm.  At 6:30 in the morning.  In February.

Which is weird, yes, but also fantastic!  I decided that a moment such as this must not be questioned, but rather captured!  So I gathered up some breakfast things and headed out to our deck to enjoy this weird-yet-fantastic turn of events, rather than crawling back into bed for an hour..

Little note: I got that bible before I was engaged.
But I had a feeling that I might get engaged soon (happened 7 months post)
So I had it "engraved" with my first and middle name only.
You know, because I'd be getting a new last name.
Corny and practical, all in one fell swoop.
I was going to lighten the above photo, but then again, I wanted you to see what it was really like.  It was dark.  And warm.  Don't forget the warmth of the moment.

Saturday, February 25, 2012

Things That Are Not: Running Music

So, apparently, I got my hands on some heavy-grade narcotics a while back.  I don't remember it happening, but I know it must have, because I have playlists set on my Zune that only a person under the influence would put together.

Let's have a show and tell.

Example I:

I love this song for running.  The pace is right for me, the words are fun to try and say.  Running Music.

Friday, February 24, 2012

6 Degrees of Kevin Bacon

I just realized today, in looking at an album cover, that Kevin Bacon was in Footloose.

Please don't hold that against me.

In fact, I feel like I should earn points for just recognizing him.


Maybe not.

Anyhow, I bring him up because (1) I couldn't think of a better blog title, (2) I think the "please don't die" photo array is a little bit humorous, if dark, and (3) KB is the center of the Hollywood universe.  Don't trust me, Wiki says it's true.  

from here

Enough about Kevin, though (there's no way I could say "enough about Bacon"... there's never enough bacon.).  This is just a convoluted way to get around to talking about degrees of separation.  And my Etsy shoppe.  I've sold a few purses (3, to be specific), and that's always nice.  My first purse, to a friend of mine (1 degree of separation).  Not super exciting, but definitely supportive. My second purse, to one of her friends (2 degrees of separation).  Alright, this one was cool... networking clearly has some cred.  

My THIRD purse, however, that one is the big'un.  Not only did it sell 8.4 minutes after I listed it, it sold to someone WHO I DON'T KNOW!  And I also don't know anyone who knows this person.  So that's like... infinity degrees of separation!!  Take that, Kevin Bacon!  (Sorry Kevin, I didn't mean it.  I don't know what came over me...)

I was so happy.  I had trouble catching my breath.  I was flapping my hands everywhere, saying, "Oh my goodness!!!! eeek!!" or something like it.  You know, because I'm a cool cat, and I do this stuff all the time...  The next morning I packaged and shipped it right away, since the euphoria was still at such a high level.

And that's my story.  There is no point.  Except that bacon is delicious, and I think I'll make some scones later.  Maybe you should, too.  Then at least you'd be getting something out of this blathering.

I <3 bacon,

Thursday, February 23, 2012

No Seconds For Me

To reiterate my previous disclaimer, "I was not raised in a church that followed Lent".


Yes.  It's true.  Or maybe I was and somehow missed it for all those years??  It doesn't seem possible, but then again, you wouldn't think it possible for me to need to check the mailbox when I've lost my keys.  Sometimes things just happen around here.  

My words may not be the right words, and my methods may not be typical.  But my heart, my heart wants the real deal.  So for Lent, I'm giving up seconds.  Which seems tiny and petty.  I'm not giving up on the going-back-for seconds for my waist (although it may benefit!) or for my pocketbook, but rather because I want to remember that what I have is enough.  That Jesus is enough.  That what we were given on the cross, what our first portion was, is enough.  

Suffice to say, buffets are pretty much off-limits for a while.
There is a tricky part of this, where I need to not try and trick the system and just carry two plates back with me the first time, or something like that.  This morning, I had two cake pops given to me.  Good day, right?  So I ate one, and it was delicious.  And I did some things.  And then I went to eat the other, and I thought, "Mariah, do you need this?  WAIT!  This would be your second cake pop, wouldn't it?" and so I gave it away and thanked the Lord for being enough.  

Maybe this is weird and doesn't make any sense.  That's okay.  I also ate 3 crackers this evening, but it was a one-fell-swoop kind of thing.  The details are fuzzy.  But I know what I'm meaning.  

Love & Sunshine,

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

I Will Not Miss Easter

I won't.  I'm not going to miss it this year. 

Last year, I sort of missed it.  Not in the same way that I currently miss Christmas, but in the way that it came and went and there wasn't a whole lot of focus given to it.  

To Easter.  [Really, Mariah?  you just missed it?  The day that makes your faith alive?  Really?]

Yep.  I just ate chocolate eggs and went on with my life.

And I regretted it.

And then I vowed not to let it happen to me again.

Unfortunately, Lent has snuck up on me again this year.  Today is Fat Tuesday, the day before Lent (I believe...?).  And although i don't much pay attention to the goings on of the Catholic Church, I do believe that some of their rituals are beautiful and spiritual and worth paying attention to.  And I think Lent may be the very thing I need to not miss Easter this year.

But I don't know much about Lent, how to "do" Lent, what good resources (books, study guides, etc.) are out there concerning the whole idea of Easter and it's solemnness.  And I don't have much time to find out.  So if you know, or could direct me to someone who does, please share.  Or if you do something special, give up something special, or have some tradition, I'd love to know about that, too!

My absolute favorite mass-produced Easter Candy

And if you have some extra chocolate eggs, feel free to share those, too.

Scrambling My Eggs,

Monday, February 20, 2012

When I have Children

I do not have children of my own.
Thus, I know little to nothing concerning the actual taking-care of actual children.

The other night, Handsome made some comment about how "[his] children are gonna starve, because [he's] never giving up food off of [his] plate for them" and so we've moved the have children date a little further back on the calendar.



(Do those two words mean the same thing?)

When we have children, there is one thing that I know we'll be on the same page about: 
No Noisy Toys.

Yes, as an aunt, I've supplied my nieces and nephews with noisy toys.  Tons of them.  I feel it's not only my right, but my duty, to buy toys for my n&n's that their parents don't want them to have.  And "yes", with a family as large as mine & Handsome's, we're likely to end up with a great number of noisy toys gifted to us someday, for our less-than-intelligent and less-than-attractive children.  [I love low expectations]

However, noisy toys can be disabled.

Batteries can be removed.

Bells can be cut off.

Toys in general can "disappear".

We're already practicing with Duke-a-loop.  See those Wubba Kongs up there?  The one on the left (your left, not his) has a broken squeaker.  The one on the right has a working squeaker.  A working squeaker that almost hastened Duke's exit from this world, but that's a story for another time.  Apart from setting the two toys down and telling Duke to sit, I gave no other commands during this experiment. 

Menu SLAM!

WhamBamThankYouMa'am, this is our menu for the week.

There's not really a whole lot extra exciting about it, except that it all looks delicious(!!!) and no, I'm not typing this while hungry.  And, besides my little addiction (can a person wear out a link?  I'm sure trying to!) that I'm going to be feeding (haha... feeding... get it? Because my addiction is food... get it?) about 2.4 seconds after I hit "post", it's all new stuff!  I love new stuff!  
ASIDE: Speaking of new stuff, I just ordered the makings of two lovely new duffles, one of which will go on sale in my shoppe, and the other one just might turn into a giveaway on here sometime soon... keep watch!
In addition, I wanted to throw some not-food pictures on here, too, to tell you about my life lately.  So, food, links, recipes, and photos.  What more could a person want?  That's what I'm here for.  I'm a giver, I can't help it.

Handsome & I have been playing solitaire lately.  Together.
Yes, this is mind bottling, and ruins the whole concept.
We're 2 - 0.
Monday:  chicken & gnocchi minstrone soup.  Locals, gnocchi is on sale at Food Lion for a buck '74.  In case you're wondering.  Also, I totally butchered that recipe up thar, and left out the peas, beans, and mushrooms.  It's still delicious.  Also, 8 serv./ 6 pts.  Boo Yah!

Technically, I made the soup yesterday (Sunday).  But we ate it for lunch today.  And dinner.  And lunch tomorrow... meh.  Details.

Sunday, February 19, 2012

I Miss Christmas

I do.  I miss my Christmas Tree.  I miss it's smell... I miss it's musk...

But seriously, I miss sitting in my living room, looking at the tree.  I miss the preparation of presents and trips, vacation time and celebration.  I miss Christmas cookies.  I miss thinking about the nativity story all the time.  I miss my stockings and ornaments.  I miss the ridiculously rich hot chocolate I drank at the time.

I know I should look to the future, the present, with anticipation and wonder, instead of dwelling in the past.  I know that there are treasures and memories, scents and treats and excitement and celebration, all waiting here in this moment if I choose to find it.

But it's not Christmas.

North Pole or Bust,

Saturday, February 18, 2012

Loving Thankful

This is a little bit late, but I wanted to tell you about our Valentine's day celebration.  Or, since it was technically the day before, our Happy Flower Day celebration, as Handsome called it in the morning when he showed up with flowers.  

As my v-day gift to him (which really has more to do with the fact I had a leetle birthday monies left over, and much less to do with an old dead saint), I took Handsome on a 2-hour windy ride through the mountains.  Beautiful, yes.  Nausea-inducing, double yes.

And to us, that was sort of the crappy part of the whole thing.  I mean, we did eat these scones (go light on the pepper, you're thank me for it!) on the ride up, so that made it almost bearable.  But, when we got to the end, that's when the real party started...

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

In The Mist

TCoTFW: Someday, when I write my memoirs publish a book make a photo book with pictures I've taken, I'm titling it "Cows In The Mist".  And there will be at least one picture of cows, peaking out from the morning fog.  Swear.

I love fog.  I love weather of most types, but fog is special to me.  I think it has something to do with my aversion to light sources before 10 AM.  Does this affect anyone else?  Handsome routinely accuses me of being part vampire, part opossum.  I really don't understand the whole opossum angle, but he still says it.  I leave lights off and work by a crack of sunrise.  I forego ceiling lights in favor of indirect lighting.  I just like it dark, what can I say?  Fog helps me prolong my sleepy feeling.

On a related note, I don't like waking up when it's still dark out.  I want the sun to be up, I just don't want to bear the full brunt of it.  Ergo, fog + me = love.

It's been another long day.  I'm curious how long they can keep being the norm, curious if I'll look around one day and realize that it hasn't been a long day, and wonder when the last one was.  But this one was long.  It needed to be, and I'm glad I muscled through so that I had something to show for it.  I'm more glad that I'm calling it a night (sort-of) early, and dropping into a lavendar-ylang-ylang-chamomile-infused tub.  

Glory goodness, that water smells awesome.  The bubbles are epic.  Thank you, Aveeno.  We're officially BFFs.  I'm not excited about having wet hair for bed, but it's necessary at this point.  Thank you, friends and neighbors, for dropping by here.  In lieu of something of substance, I hope you enjoy these pictures and my shameless AVEENO (is-da-bomb) promotion.  They don't know I exist, but I know about them.  That's the important part.

As an FYI, Tarjay was having a clearance sale on AVEENO products last week.
(that's a weird caption for the photo, but I'm going with it)
Finally, in case you want to know more details about my evening plans than most people would be comfortable sharing, I'm listening to this, and then I'm sleeping in multiple layers, under fleece sheets.  

Sweet, foggy, lavender-scented dreams,

p.s.- Fleece sheets are also da' bomb.  TFW out.

Things That Are Not: Chocolate

There are several recommendations for tricking yourself out of eating junk food that have come down the pipeline lately.  I've been told, on more than one occassion, that drinking water is a good way to forget that you're hungry.  Craving something sweet?  Drink a large glass of water first.  It'll fill you up, you won't want the sweets as much.

Bull-full-of-loney.  Bologna.

Let's be clear here:

This is what I want to eat right now.
They're sitting at the edge of my desk, just smelling like chocolate and happiness.

And this is supposed to satisfy?
Does it look refreshing?  Yes.
Is it chocolate?  No.
Decidedly Not Chocolate

For another example, I've heard that when you want to eat something sweet, when you just have to have it, eat a piece of fruit, and it will satisfy the craving.  So you're telling me that when I want this:

Right now, in this moment, I want to eat all 3 of these.
At once.
In one bite.
So much Chocolate.

Supposedly this will satisfy?

Even if it is a HoneyCrisp, I still don't see this working.
Not for this girl.
Definitely Not Chocolate.
I have an apple rind sitting on my desk that says otherwise.  Personally (she says with a mouth full of cakepop deliciousness) I'm just not seeing how anything but chocolate will satisfy a chocolate craving.

Taking another week "off" of WW,

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Breathing Again

I haven't been breathing much lately.  

This is what I discovered the other night when I finally let my breath out.  It was as though I'd been holding it in for some time, and didn't even know that I was depriving myself of some really good oxygen.  

See, there have been a few more stressors than normal in my life, and I don't handle stress.  You might think, "Hey, Mariah, you forgot the 'well', you know?  As in, you don't handle stress well."  Nope.  Not a mis-type, although you all know I'm prone to such things.  No, I don't handle stress at all.  I just refuse to acknowledge it.  Ignore it's very existence.  Do everything in my power to pretend it away.  La-dee-la-dah-dee, no stress here.

And, uhm, yeah.  That doesn't really work.  It often ends with, as I said, me holding my breath (literally and figuratively), clenching my teeth more (weird habit of mine when concentrating under stress), and, in extreme cases, crying profusely.  

Even though I don't like to give it any cred, if there are stressors happening, then there is stress happening.  So that test I didn't prepare for, the two extra bills that I didn't anticipate, and a backed up washing machine, well, they do add stress to my life whether I acknowledge it or not.

The good news:  I'm breathing again.

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Valentine's Ideals

In the morning, after he woke me up with a large hot coffelatte, he told me to clear my schedule for the evening.  When I got home from work, I look in my closet.  There was a dress bag in there, as well as a shoe box.  My sizes, both of them.  And beautiful.  

I tried them on.  They fit, and flattered.  And then he had a necklace for me.  We hopped in the truck and headed out to dinner.  Handsome wore an almost-tux/suit thing.  We went to a restaurant that I've never been to, but there were waiters in tuxes and someone played the piano.  There were 5 courses, plenty of candles, and after dinner, a string band.  We danced.  A lot.

On the drive home, we took a scenic route and ended up looking over the city.  The stars were shining.  We talked about the early years of dating, funny memories, and hopes and plans for the years to come.  When we got home, there was a whole new bouquet of flowers that Handsome had "forgotten" to give me earlier.

All-in-all, it was a picture-perfect night

Just as if I'd dreamt it.

Because I had.

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Food Coma

[FTR: I have a feeling that I'll have more than one occasion to use that title again.  Just sayin']

I did it.

In fact, there was a beautiful melding of the minds where my advisor said "Hey, want to go to Max Lager's for dinner?"  And I said "For their cheesecake?" and we acknowledged the brilliance of the plan, and then all was right with the world.

I just got back from dinner about 15 minutes ago.  And I'm stuffed.  And I'm going to fall asleep like that, even though it's supposedly not good for you.  I'm going to enjoy it.  I hope you enjoy the rest of your night at least half as much.

Baby Bulooga in the Deep Blue Sea Food Coma,

Atlanta Love

I'm in Atlanta today.  

I'd really like it best if I were home with Handsome, had a large (neverending) mug of really good hot chocolate, a large fluffy quilt, and add in some ferocious rain falling on the roof, and a stack of movies just waiting to be watched.  Oh, and in this dream, all of my looming deadlines had been met ahead of time and I have nothing to distract me from purely enjoying my day.

But that's not where I am.  So I need to find some things to love about Atlanta, instead.

And I know one right off of the top of my head.  Or bottom of my stomach.  Or something like that.

Yes Please.
Honestly, I don't know if I'm going to get to go to Max's, but in my heart, I'm already there.  I'd tell you that their dinner menu is great or something, but I don't much remember dinner.  And I'd blame it on their fancy brewskies, but I'm not a brewskie drinker.  It's their dessert that has wiped all other food from my mind.  Deep.  Fried.  Cheesecake.  Fried-in-a-tortilla-rolled-in-cinnamon-sugar-served-with-icecream.  It's incredible.  I've had it twice, and my mouth remembers every taste.  

Monday, February 6, 2012

A Safe Place II

Because I have to much more to share...

And because we've established this is a safe place...

And because I need you to know that I did eat the rest of those delicious cookies...

And because I want to show you what I did with the rest of my night...

A picture montage, for you.

And I'm done,

A Safe Place

This is a safe place, right?  We can share things here, without fear of retribution.  I share with you, you share with me, we give and take.  It's symbiotic or something.

So I want to share with you.

I have a problem.

These are my problem:

This is Bakerella's photo
I just want to eat them.  And while they're only 1 WW point each (which seems pretty awesome), eating 13 of them is still a problem.  Not that I'm saying I did that or anything.  But I did.

I love these cookies for so many reasons.  The texture of the bottoms are sort of like freeze-dried icecream I used to buy when I was little.  Crunch crunch crunch.  They're chocolatey to distraction.  The sort of chocolatey that makes usual people say "Oh, I can only eat one or two, they're so rich."  On top of all of that, I tell myself that they're chock-full of protein, since they're mostly egg and sugar.  

The good news is, there's only 7 left in my freezer.  (OH!  Because they're even better frozen!  Another boon!).  I could just go eat them all and put myself out of my misery.  Which puts me at about 20 points worth of cookies, and dinner still yet to be eaten...

The problem is, this plan actually sounds like it's reasonable to me right now.  I'd ask for your help, but I'm not sure I want to.  What I really want are those cookies...

Flat-out obsessed,

Saturday, February 4, 2012

Things That Are Not: Heirlooms

There are heirlooms, and then there are not heirlooms.

Its late, and I'm feeling chatty.  Let's have an object lesson here.

Exhibit A: Walnut cedar chest handmade by my Grandpa

Exhibit B: Disposable water bottles

Not heirlooms.

Exhibit C: A bible given on the event of "another awesome beef dinner!"

And now, the point of this post:

Exhibit D: Curtains
Not, (let me be clear here) NOT heirlooms.  

This may have been clear to you, but this was a revelation to me.   I was hemming and pinning, seaming and measuring, like my life depended on it.  Like these were priceless heirlooms that I would one day pass onto my children's children.

They're not.

So, after that epiphany, it really freed me up and got me moving on the whole "window dressings" front.

In This Moment

I'm eating this:

Recipe & Photo from HERE

Covered up in this:

My favorite T-shirt quilt
 Watching a little BBC on Netflix.  The women's eyebrows are amazing.  My perfect Saturday afternoon.

What are you doing in this moment?

Comfy and Cozy,

Thursday, February 2, 2012

Words v. Actions

Handsome and Duke have a love-hate relationship.  Always have.  After we got Duke, it took months before I quit worrying that H. would sell him/drown him (it was a common threat).  The whole house-breaking thing really threw Handsome off his game, and he just wasn't in love with this animal living in his house.  Or so he said with his words.

They do look legitimately skeptical of each other here...
Since that time, through many hours of training on Duke's part and a gradual acclimating on H's, the two have come to an agreement: Duke adores Handsome, and Handsome "tolerates" Duke, as far as verbal is concerned.  Actions, however, tell a different story.

I'll leave the house, and come back hours later to find the two of them asleep on the floor.  H. is sweaty, Duke is panting.  They've wrestled the entire time I've been gone.  Its something that Handsome has just always done with Dukey; something I can't seem to do.  I've tried to learn the wrestling moves (H. gives them names like "Death Trap" and "Vortex" and "Snake Bite"), but I just don't have that... killer play instinct, I guess.

So today, when Handsome said to Duke, "Duke, sometimes I want to chop you right here, and sever your spine, so you can't follow me around anymore.  You'd just have drag yourself everywhere," I wasn't very concerned.  Because, although he's a fighter with his words...

I know he's a lover at heart.

Circus Master, AKA,

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

An Epic Night

Ruffling.  For curtains.  And not on the edges.  Just you wait, it's going to be epic.

I hate the over-use of the word epic.  As in, epicly hate it.

These curtains are proving epicly difficult to cut in straight lines.

Apparently, my camera is proving epicly difficult to focus.

Speaking of epicly difficult things, Handsome seems to be having some trouble with the English language lately.  I asked him this morning if he had any activity to record for WW.  He replied, "No, I've been pretty doormat lately."  When I told him it was the wrong word, he helped me understand; "Door, as in 'inside', and mat, as in 'laying down a lot.'"  

This reminds me of times when my sister would use a new word to insult Handsome.  Something like  calling him a "COCCYDYNIA" or similar.  Handsome would always just smile at her.  She'd ask why he wasn't upset, and was always peeved when he explained that, since he didn't know what the word meant, he hadn't been insulted.

We all have our nights.

In closing, a poem of lament.

Hot Fudge, so rich and yummy,
Why have I so seldom invited you to my tummy?
You're good on ice cream, better on cake,
Chocolate syrup is less than your fake.
Fruit is convinced to be devoured when,
covered in fudge, a perfect ten.
I'll never keep to my points now that you're here,
But if you would leave, I'd shed more than one tear.

Poetically epicly yours,

p.s.- Day 1 of FebFreeze: Didn't spend any moola.  Didn't hardly even leave my house, which is impressive or depressing, depending on your viewpoint.
Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...