A Day In The Life...

As I was uploading some photos off my camera(s) the other night and showing some of them to my beloved husband, he kindly (?) asked me if there is ever a day when I DON'T take at least ONE photo. Since my iPhoto account groups my pictures into "events" (at least initially) by date, I scanned said "events", which read something like this: "June 14...June 15...June 16...June 17...June 18". I realized he was right. There is NOT a day (at least not in the recent past) when I have NOT taken at least ONE photo. So, what do I do with this new found knowledge?!?! Why, start a new blog, of course! :)

Inspired, in part, by this conversation and moreso by people with similar ideas and blogs such as those found here (Thanks, Pam!), here, and (my favorite) here (hey, if I can't get up here, I'll make my own!) I decided to follow suit. I will call it "A day in the life..." with a photo posted every day ('cause I have time for this, right?!?) :) We'll see how it goes. It's a good excuse for me to share even MORE photos with you than I already do!! Mwahaha!

So travel on over and check it out by clicking here.

Or take a look here.

Or, if you so choose, stop in HERE!

Just make sure you check it out - The fun begins now!

Tomorrow's Wordless Wednesday

Since tomorrow's post is supposed to be wordless, I am posting THIS today to explain my next few Wordless Wednesdays...I've decided to do a Christmas in July theme for July's WW posts.  I thought it would be fun to dig out some older shots and since SNOW (ick, I know!) was a common thread running between them, I decided to make it a theme.  Fun, fun!  So in case you're wondering why I'm not showing sunny shots and sandy beaches, that's why.  Enjoy and we'll get back to summer sunshine, sand, surf, and smiles in August!  

The Unlikely Messenger

Ok, so I'm falling into a cheesy trend of scheduling out my days of the week with fun little tasks to fulfill. The problem is that I frequent so many blogs and other people have such cute ideas that I feel compelled to participate!!! So here's my latest, with my own spin.

Introducing: Flashback Fridays.

I think it would be fun to post old pictures or tell old stories as a flashback to a different time. Some have called it Way Back Whensdays but I have Wednesdays taken, so Fridays it is.

However, since this will require me to plug in and "warm up" my scanner, I will start this week with a story of days gone by.

August, 1994

It was a hot, sticky summer. Mosquitos filled the humid air, just waiting to perch and feast upon their prey. The days stretched out ahead of me, one right after another...

Ha! Just kidding. Seriously though - August of 1994 was (obviously for those of you who were there) the summer after I graduated from high school. I was about to venture out on my own for the first time. My bags were packed and I had plans to move into my first apartment just in time to settle in before the Fall semester started at GCC. It was bittersweet. An odd cross between elation at my impending freedom and sheer terror at my approaching independence.

My sister, Sarah, was 13 at the time. We had shared a room together since the day she was born so it was going to be strange for her to have her own taste of freedom, too, I'm sure. No one to yell at her for being sloppy, no toe tapping or music playing to keep her up at night, and no one hogging 3/4 of the closet.

As I was getting ready for the big move out on my own, she brought me her beloved black bear, (creatively) named Blackie, and told me she wanted me to bring him with me when I left. She was afraid I'd be lonely and thought he could keep me company. How sweet is that?!? But wait. I knew how important Blackie was to her so I refused to accept him until she insisted that she'd be ok without him and that I needed him more than she did. This "simple", unselfish, and immensely sacrificial gesture was huge to me! I mean, Blackie was Sarah's lovey, her comfort item, her best friend! He had worn spots where she loved on him for years, matted fur where she had held him tight to ease her fears and calm her nerves. How could she bear (ha!) to part with him?!? I'm sure she must have sensed my trepidation and in that moment, rather than give in to her sadness and fear about my leaving, she stood up to give me strength. And through this unlikely, stuffed, 2-foot-tall, fuzzy messenger of love and support, she showed a selflessness and maturity well beyond her thirteen years.

What Sarah probably doesn't realize is that I spent many rough nights holding Blackie tight as he eased MY fears and calmed MY nerves. I pulled him close when my tiny little apartment seemed big and scary and I missed the familiar sounds of home and my family. I sat him nearby as stress got high because assignments were due or big tests were looming. I talked to him when no one else was around to hear how my day had been. Blackie was a Godsend in those first few months and years of college. He was like a little, black, furry guardian angel sent to watch over me!

Even 15 years later, Sarah's timely gift has continued to stick with me. I think because it demonstrates a prime example of unconditional love. It shows a degree of support and care and a level of understanding that you don't find very often. My sister was willing to give up the one thing that meant the world to her to give me comfort, strength and companionship in my huge new leap into the big, scary world. She recognized that and made the ultimate sacrifice (to a 13-year-old!) to show her love and support. For that I will always be grateful. And for always I will do my best to repay the favor in your time of need. I love you, "big" lil' sis!!

Wordless Wednesday

Father

As Father's Day approaches, I thought it would be nice to post a tribute (albeit brief) to the Father of the two most important people in my life.  My husband, Dave. 

When we got together, Dave already had two boys in their early teens and I think the idea of having more kids was WAY down on his list of priorities.  He kept saying that if that was what I needed to make me happy then he was game.  Whatever I wanted.  But it always felt like something I was pushing on him.  A burden he was willing to take on to give me what I had always dreamed of...a family!  

Why am I saying this now, at Father's Day?  Of course it doesn't sound the most endearing, but the truth is, when Nathaniel was born, I never once got this impression from him again.  He and Nathaniel were almost instant buddies.  From the very beginning they bonded and were inseparable.  It doesn't hurt that I went back to work when Nathaniel was 10 weeks old and Dave stayed home with him during the day.  When I got home from work he'd eat dinner with us and then hit the hay for a couple of hours of sleep before he went in at midnight to work a shift he had switched to (from his nice "comfy" day shift he'd worked almost 20 years to earn) just so Nathaniel wouldn't have to be raised by strangers.  He got very little sleep that first year or so until he switched to an equally difficult evening shift that allowed for more Zzzz's but took him away from us at night while still giving him the opportunity to be home with Nathaniel during the day.  I think the time they spent together all day long has been instrumental in their bonding and it's super sweet.  

Enter Alex. 

Taking on another child was not something Dave had wanted at first.  In fact, I had sold and donated all of our baby stuff after being told, in no uncertain terms, that we would NOT be adding on to our brood.  Obviously the idea of a new soft sweet face to nuzzle got the better of him and before we knew it our family of three had expanded to four.  And he wouldn't want it any other way.  It was a much more difficult task to take on but he has done so with minimal complaining on his part.  

Dave is a fantastic father.  He loves his boys so deeply and would give anything for them.  I love the way he lights up when he's rehashing one of Nate's funny stories or how he calls me at work to tell me something amazing that Alex just accomplished.  He's not afraid to praise a successful potty stop or fix a hopelessly broken train for the 15th time.  He teaches Nate how to fix a turkey and takes both boys for rides on the lawnmower.  

Dave cooks fantastic meals for our family, gives Nate his haircuts once every few months, he cleans spit up, poop, and spilled milk and kisses more than his share of boo boos in the course of a day.  I love that I don't have to fill him in on the kids' napping schedule or remind him of what they like to eat before I run out.  He doesn't have to call me to ask what Nate's trying to say or why Alex won't stop crying and what he should do about it.  He knows his kids, he knows what they like, what works, what they eat and don't eat.  I love that about him.    

Of course there are times when I want to poke his eyes out for teaching Nathaniel how to fart or fake box or when he drops an f-bomb like it's nothing and forgets their impressionable ears.  It drives me nuts that he lets them watch TV way more than I wish they did or that he doesn't see what's wrong with giving them pop tarts for breakfast every other morning.  But I wouldn't trade him for the world!  He is doing a fantastic job helping me raise our boys to be good people.  I couldn't do it without him!  We love you, Daddy!! 

Daddy's Hands

My (two or three) readers may (or may not) have noticed that I've missed my last couple Thinkbox Thursday posts. Oops! Truth be told I had a couple "post heavy" weeks where I either didn't want to inundate you (both) and scare you away by my incessant posting (which is both annoying and hard to keep up with!) or (as is probably most accurate), I was just plain sans inspiration.  I DID, however, pull a question from the thinkbox a couple weeks ago and since the question itself is so apropos to the upcoming celebration of our fathers this weekend, I felt compelled to finally follow through this week.

The question: What were your father's best traits?  His worst?  What traits do you share?

Oh, where do I start to describe the most fabulous man I know?  There's so much to say and so little time to express myself in so I will let Holly Dunn help me.  There's a song she sang on country radio called "Daddy's Hands".  This song has always had a special meaning to me.  I loved this song growing up.  I'd sing it (ok, YELL it) in the car on the way up North to my grandparents' house.  I even danced with my father to this song at my (first) wedding.  This is the perfect "story" of my father (at least to me).  The chorus reads (or is that "sings"?):

Daddy's hands, were soft and kind when I was cryin´.
Daddy´s hands, were hard as steel when I´d done wrong.
Daddy´s hands, weren´t always gentle 
But I´ve come to understand.
There was always love in Daddy´s hands.

My father is strong - Strong willed, strong tempered, strong minded, and strong armed.  He has strong opinions, strong convictions, strong values, and strong expectations.  It was this strength that taught me right from wrong, how to stand up for what I believe in (even if that's a battle I still fight), and how not to mess with him or my mother.  I learned respect, hard work, and pride from my father.

But as the song suggests, my father may have worked his butt off to give us the kind of life and childhood I wouldn't trade for the world but he was also soft and gentle when we needed him to be.  My father would whip out his belt when we talked back to our Mother and then turn around and give us a hug to say he was proud of us for a job well done.  He had a temper I would often cower from but was the first one I'd run to to share news of making the cheerleading squad.  I remember getting splinters from the old, worn wood floors in our house and sitting on his lap while he ever-so-gently pried the tiny sliver(s) of wood from my foot or hand with the beat-up, razor sharp jackknife he always carried in his pocket.  

My father is smart - highly intelligent, in fact.  I have always said my Dad is the smartest man on earth - a "walking encyclopedia".  When I was growing up and had an essay to write or a report to research for school, I'd ask him questions to clarify my assignment or ask him how to spell something and he'd always say, "Look it up".  He didn't want to make it easy for us so he encouraged us to find the answer rather than just provide it for us.  My father knows something about just about everything, though.  He's the kind of guy you'll find reading an atlas for fun.  Or studying a book on anatomy or candle-making or civil war strategy, just for the sake of learning something knew.

My father has an insanely sarcastic sense of humor.  I remember rolling my eyes at corny jokes he'd make.  I'd say, "Dad, can you make me a PB &J sandwich?".  To which he'd always respond, "Poof!  You're a PB & J sandwich!".  "Dad!", I'd groan.  Cheesy, I know, but I got that corny joke thing from him and have gone on to annoy plenty of my own friends with that sense of humor, I'm sure!  I find myself thinking in terms of corny comebacks and cheesy jokes and I DEFINITELY got the sarcastic thing from him!!!

Obviously my father's not 100% perfect by any means (just ask my Mother!  She's been married to him for 35 years and has earned the right to complain about one or two of his "quirks"!).  He can be somewhat aloof, sort of a modern day "absent-minded professor" but it's sweetly endearing.   He's a procrastinator (thanks, Dad!), he's a pack rat (yeah, thanks again, Dad!), and did I mention that temper thing (and again...thanks a heck of a lot for this one!)?  But he is still strong, smart, honest, fair, caring, understanding, funny, talented, charming, creative, ingenious, and hands down the best father I could ever have been blessed with!  

Thanks, Dad, for raising me up with good morals, strong values, and smart priorities.  Thank you for teaching me how to be stubborn, fight fair, and live honorably.  I am beyond lucky to have you in my life, completely honored to call you "Dad", and purely blessed to have you around to pass on your strength, knowledge, wisdom, and witty sarcasm to my children whom lovingly call you "Geempa".  I love you, Daddy! 

Wordless Wednesday

10 on 10 : June 2009

I realize this negates today being a WORDLESS Wednesday, but at least that POST was wordless, right?!?  Today marks my inaugural 10 on 10 post! Aren't you all excited?!? The task for the day was to take a picture an hour for 10 hours and share them all here. I tried to make today's photos a "picture" of my day. I'm not sure if this is "against the rules" but I will explain each picture to take you on a tour of a day in the life of ME. Or at least on a tour of TODAY, as parts of today were generally atypical from an average day in the life of me.

Anyway, buckle your seat belts and keep your hands in the ride at all times!  Here we go!

I awoke late (for me, anyway!) at 6:30 AM wondering why Alex wasn't up requesting his "breakfast" and found this:

I parked my (now damaged) new car at the back of the parking lot and walked into work. Here is my daily trip up 3 flights of stairs:

Here is my desk and the chaos that abounds throughout my day:

Shelby and I snuck out to pick up our *free* VIP tickets to see NKOTB on Sunday! (Can I get a HELL YEAH?!?):

My delicious mid-afternoon treat:

My pile of stuff waiting patiently for me to take them home:

The dashboard of my new car (don't worry, I was sitting at a red light when I took this!):

The scene that greeted me when I got home:

Halfway through (yes, HALFWAY THROUGH, believe it or not!) cleaning Nate's disastrous room (Notice Alex is "helping", yet Nate is mysteriously MIA):

A snippet of our afternoon outdoor fun:

Let me know what you guys think of this feature!  I had fun doing it and thinking outside the box.  The originator of this 10 on 10 idea had a post up yesterday saying she would be doing a color theme (pick a color and find items of that color all day) - I like the idea of doing a theme like that (flowers, signs, things that start with an "s"...who knows - any/all suggestions are appreciated!!).   So stay tuned to see what I do on the 10th of next month!!

Wordless Wednesday

...in a handbasket

There are days when I wonder what this world is coming to.  Days, like today, when I'm so fed up with the downward spiral society seems to be taking that I want to pack up my family and head to the mountains to raise them and protect them from all that we've become.  

When did doing the right thing get replaced by selfish, hurtful, lazy acts of UNkindness?  Why can't people seem to step outside of their bubbles or look beyond the ends of their noses to see that they're not the only ones in the world.  What ever happened to people realizing that their words and actions affect people around them?  It's as if people today are not raised with an empathy for anyone else.   Common courtesy is no longer taught and narcissism reigns supreme.

We've all been there.  You're walking two steps behind someone, with an infant car seat in one hand, a toddler in the other, and a diaper bag falling off your shoulder - only to have this "thoughtful" stranger ahead of you sneak through the door without a backward glance or even the slightest attempt to hold the door for you.  You get budged at the checkout line because you look away for a second as you reach out to redirect your wandering toddler.  Groups of kids at the mall hang with their buddies and drop f-bombs just as you walk by with your kids, as if this string of obscenities is natural or somehow vital to the oxygenation of their blood.

Today is worse for me than usual.  I feel duped.  Victimized.  I know that's melodramatic for the "tragic" events of my day, but it's the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back.  Assuming I was a camel, of course.

Today started as any other Tuesday.  I was running late, having had to celebrate the first full night Nathaniel slept without "Blue Paci-fighter"!!  (Yeah!)  I was having a bad hair day and had nothing to wear due to my gross negligence surrounding the gigantic laundry pile in my bedroom.

But I never saw this coming.  Rewind back a couple months and you would find me stumbling upon a blog for a young pregnant woman who was grieving the tragic diagnosis her unborn daughter had just received that did not bode well for her survival.  I have been riveted by this story.  She captivated me with her fascinating perspective on faith, her amazing way with words, her human like emotions, and her resounding strength against such incredible odds.  More recently, you would see me glued to my computer screen as updates were coming in on her blog about the arrival of sweet little April Rose - born alive and a true miracle!   Last night when I had gone to bed, this sweet baby girl was not doing well.  Just as was expected, she began to struggle and was seemingly losing her battle.  I awoke this morning to check her status....and the blog was gone.  Disappeared.  "Link not found".  I found a discussion thread asking for prayers for April Rose and her family and began to read (in horror!) as hundreds more were reeling from the news that this whole thing was a hoax - an elaborate "fictional" tale spun to lead us on.  For what reason, though?  Why would someone do that?  Money?  Glory?  Attention?  It's horrible.  She had thousands of people hanging on her every word.  Dare I say, MILLIONS, praying for her and "April Rose".  I had even told Nathaniel the story of a little girl who was sick and needed our prayers so we could pray for her at bedtime.  It's just sickening. I don't know what to think about the whole thing.  I just know I feel dumb and that people suck.  More accurately, people just can't be trusted, apparently.  

Then there's my new car.  I just got it on Sunday.  Brand spanking new.  I've literally driven it twice (three times if you count the test drive).  I refuse to put my kids in it just yet until I can get it scotch guarded and force-field protected.  I took special caution to park at the back of the parking lot at work, away from heavy traffic and flying baseballs from the field above.  Yet, what do I find when I get home from work today?  A two-feet long GASH along my back bumper.  What is WRONG with people?  What makes it ok to just HIT someone's car and not DO anything about it?  What happened to doing the right thing and leaving info?  And these are my CO-WORKERS.  People who by NATURE should be good people since they've chosen to help people for a living.  Ugh!  For those of you who know me, you know this is equally frustrating because this is the THIRD time in less than 4 months we've gone through car damage issues.  I guess the black cloud has been passed along.  

I'm just frustrated that people seem to disappoint me over and over.  (And when I say "people", I hope you know I'm speaking broadly.  I do realize this is quite general and that there are certainly exceptions.)  I can't tell you how many times just in the past week that I've sighed or been disgusted with someone's behavior or actions (or INACTION, at times!).  Nate notices things and will ask me, "What's the matter, Mommy?".  How many times can I explain to my 3-year-old that people aren't always nice?  That sometimes people do things they shouldn't do even when they know better?  

This brings me back to my hole.  The one I want to dig and live in.  The one in which I'd like to put my family and friends and bury us all away from the rest of this world.  It just seems like society is forcing us to be more skeptical, less trusting, more cynical and less giving.  Kind hearted people are taken advantage of.  Honestly good people are ridiculed or judged.  I was taught to be friendly and give people the benefit of the doubt.  I always believed good prevailed over evil.  But I'm not so sure about that anymore.  Don't get me wrong, I believe there is good in the world.  I also believe it's worth doing.  But I do believe it's getting harder and harder to make a difference against the strength of evil.  There's strength in numbers.  And the odds are not in our favor anymore.  

Digger Fuzz Bucket

Alexander

Alex

"Digger"

"Fuzz Bucket"

Sunshine

Blows raspberries
BIG Blue Eyes
A smile that lights up the room

Flirtatious

Funny

Commando Crawl

Pulling Up

Falling Down

Babbling

Screeching

Itty Bitty

9th percentile

Mommy's Boy

Spooked

Tonight is a perfect example of why I wish we could live in a perfect world...in a trusting and honest society with good people among us in mass quantity.

I'm sitting here, enjoying a nice glass of wine on a Friday evening and the doorbell rings.  It's an alarm company sales representative peddling his wares.  He seems innocent enough so I engage in conversation with him through the screen door and politely entertain his sales pitch (something my husband LOATHES me doing but I figure he's just doing his job so there's no sense in being rude or nasty).  The conversation shuffles along..."I see you currently have Brinks"..."How long have you been with them?"..."Are you happy with their service?", blah, blah, blah.  Before I know it (this guy's GOOD!), he's asking where my alarm sensors are in the door and where the main panel is located.  I'm trying desperately not to look dumb and sound knowledgeable about our system so when I have to turn him down it's for good solid reasons.  Suddenly he asks to see the system and I show him (STUPID ME!).  He asks me where I feel  the house is most vulnerable to intruders.  

Odd?  Slightly.  Bizarre?  Perhaps.  Dumb?  Absoloutely!  

I realize almost immediately that he shouldn't be in my house.   I'm instantly shocked and dismayed that he had just sales talked his way into my safe haven.  And that I LET him do so without a second thought.  Until this very moment.  At this point it's too late to go back and choose a different adventure.  Various possible scenarios - good, bad, and ridiculous (or so I hope) - are running through my head.  I'm doing my best to be polite while quickly shuffling him through to end the conversation.  Then it gets really weird.  He starts asking about my kids (Oh, no you DIDN'T!) and if it's just us the three of us that live here.  To which I reply - "and my husband" (my very LARGE, GUN TOTING husband, mind you!!!)  He asks if my husband is out.  Whoa!  Too many questions.  I flash back to the stranger danger lessons of decades past.  Never tell anyone you're home alone.  How do I NOT answer this question?  Saying "I'd rather not say" or "none of your business", as I'd no doubt like to, is a dead giveaway.  Telling him he's in the back yard or the other room is a lie that he'll surely see right through.  I realize right then and there how much I suck at this and I want out - NOW!  

Then the doorbell rings (I'm immediately thinking DISTRACTION - surely this must be a tag team con of sorts).   I ignore the doorbell and instead watch him for any sudden movement or attempt to swipe something while I'm looking the other way.   

Then the phone rings.  What on earth is going on here?!?  "You can get that" he says - UH, NO!  I'm not an idiot.  (Believe it or not...)  I was very uncomfortable at that point and feeling duped and dumb and unsafe so I hurried him back outside where the door thankfully separated us again and I comfortably resumed control.  Ugh!  

Why do I get myself into these situations?  Why do I not see these things coming before they smack me in the head?  How can I be so naive and dumb?  

He seemed safe enough at the beginning.  A young kid, clean cut and well mannered.  And once he was safely back outside on the other side of my locked door, he resumed that unthreatening status, but it left me horribly shaken.  How could I be so stupid?!?!  Why am I so darn gullible!?!?  Worse yet, why am I forced to feel this way in today's society?!?  I am obviously NOT cut out to live in this evil world.  I fall into these traps constantly.  My need to fit in, people-please, and be the polite and well-mannered person my parents raised me to be is not working out well for me.  But being short and mean and assertive is not in me (even when my safety and that of my kids is at stake - how ridiculous is that?!?!).

In retrospect I realize I could have totally been taken advantage of.  The situation could have gone very bad very quickly.  Looking back now I worry that he was scoping my house to come back later...and what's worse is that now he knows that I'm alone.  Great!!

As soon as he (finally!) took no for an answer, I watched him walk away up the street and then proceeded to lock all my doors and windows and set my Brinks alarm.  Ugh.  I am just not good at this.  My husband would KILL me for being so dumb.  He'd tell me a thousand different ways how I was lacking judgement and setting the scene for disaster (and he did tell me that numerous times, ultimately!).  I KNOW that.  I just don't know how to avoid it.  I trust everyone.  I give everyone the benefit of the doubt.  However, in a matter of seconds, trust and comfort becomes panic when I'm suddenly in over my head and the vibe instantly changes.  By then it could be too late.  It's scary.  It's frustrating, and it's disheartening.  Why do we live in a society where I can't be who I am and be trusting and nice without risking my safety or jeopardizing my well being.  I've never felt so alone.  I feel like I'm a minority in a world that's set out to take advantage of people like me.  If this is indeed survival of the fittest, I'm screwed.

The passing of time...

I'm finding that as time goes by, things change.  

*GASP!*  

I mean, I KNOW things change, but I guess it's the absence of ANYTHING staying the same that has me surprised.  

Not only do we get older and our bodies change, our preferences change, our jobs change, our spouses change (for some of us, that is), our homes change, our cars change, our furniture changes, our styles change, our routines change, neighbors change, friends change (some friends obviously stay the same but even those friendships change and morph into fresh new versions of themselves as circumstances fluctuate).  

Even love changes with time.  It grows stronger, it fades, it ebbs and wanes but it doesn't stay the same.  Nothing does.  

What I'm finding the most sad, though, is how my QUICKLY my children change.  Not only do they grow up, learn new things, get bigger.  But their little quirks and those behaviors that I hold so dear are disappearing.  

Nathaniel has always had a myriad of blankets he goes to sleep with every night.  None was more special than the next, but he needed at least one of them to travel and ALL of them to sleep.  The cute habit he had was holding the blanket up to his nose and sniffing it in order to fall asleep.  It was consistent, reliable, and PRECIOUS!  I realized recently that he doesn't do that anymore.  How sad!  Where did that go? 

Little things like the butchered way he used to say things or the funny words he'd use to label things (fweh = pacifier...hey = elephant...)  I was again reminded of this bittersweet fact the other morning when he asked "Mommy, where's my paci-fighter?"  Words he would say, such as, "Butt Fry", recently became "Bugga Fy" and I know that it will all too soon this will morph into its intended version: "Butterfly".  I miss that.

To look at my baby and realize that in just a few short months, he went from this:

To this:

And now is doing this:

And this:

It just boggles my mind!  

People have reminded me that there is joy and pride to be had in these little achievements.  Each new thing my children learn is progress and accomplishment.  And I do realize this, superficially.  It's just hard not to miss those little things.  Especially when you have a memory as horrible as mine.  Those cute quirks are no sooner done as they are gone.  It all goes by too quickly and changes too often!  So my best option is to blog about these moments before they change too drastically and completely disappear.  I vow to write down their adorable habits, funny pronunciations, and hilarious stories of daily life.  And share them with all of you! (lucky guys!)

Until I can find that proverbial pause button to stop things long enough to sit back and take it all in, I guess I will just have to focus on living in the now, enjoying the current moment, and soak in as much as I can as life whizzes by!

Wordless Wednesday