I just finished July's Book Club selection, The Obituary Writer, by Ann Hood. It was a fairly quick read--even for me--but in the end, I couldn't shake the vague feeling that I would like to have all those hours back for some other purpose.
When Kathy announced the title, I dropped by Amazon to check it out. Regarding Book Club, I always read reviews in order to know whether to purchase a hardback copy, a paperback, a Kindle download, or simply visit the library and save the money. In this case, Amazon sprinkled enough Fairy Dust over the page to make it seem worth the $8.41 download.
As with our May selection, this is one more novel in which two characters alternate chapters. Vivien, the obituary writer of the title, inhabits 1919 San Francisco. Claire, a young wife and mother, lives in a 1961 D.C. suburb while her husband climbs the civil-service ladder at the Department of the Navy.
Vivien is definitely my favorite of the two. She moves through a San Francisco and Napa Valley that have depth and description to them. I can envision her "love nest" that David purchased before he disappeared in the 1906 San Francisco earthquake; as well as the office cum cozy apartment she pulled together later when her writing career began to flourish. Vivien was real to me. She was a sympathetic character who, quite realistically, didn't always make the best choices, but I was with her all the way.
Claire, unfortunately, is an entirely different matter. Perhaps the problem is that I remember 1961 and I don't see or feel any of it here. Ann Hood seemed to be up against a brick wall, and no matter what she threw at it--distracted husband, whiny baby, lonely housewife--none of it rang true. She tried, but cocktails and Cheez Whiz was a lousy way to define the era.
Not to beat a dead horse, but poor Claire has the personality of a paper doll and, as the book progresses, the common-sense of a fig. Yes, her husband is dry and dull, but her solution--an affair, in her own home, in the middle of the day, with no protection of any sort--will obviously end badly.
And, don't even get me started on her obsession with Jack and Jackie Kennedy. Those lines pop up out of nowhere with absolutely nothing to give them weight. If you want obsession with Jack and Jackie, talk to me. Claire is an amateur.
Claire and Vivien's paths do indeed cross toward the end of the book. If I know it's going to happen before it happens (and I did), you'll have it figured out within minutes of opening the book. That meeting pulls everything together in a tidy little package, but it's too pat for me. One assumes that Ann Hood plans for everyone to become a better person because of this encounter. I'm not sure that will happen. I'm hoping they'll just grow up a bit.
Margie
PS: Sadly, I still do not have enough self-confidence to write this way about a book and not feel badly but, I've only got so much time left, and The Obituary Writer took too much of it. I'm happy for Ann Hood though. She actually wrote a book, had it published and it ranks #17,180 in the Kindle Store and #405,470 in Amazon books. She is way ahead of me.
6.30.2014
6.27.2014
DREAMS--PUERTO AVENTURAS
Is it Friday already? When a person decides to blog and post three times a week, each one of those days hits her in the face before she's picked herself up from the one before. Really, it's a silly thing for an older person to blog on a schedule, because under the best of circumstances, the days fly by us at whiplash speed. It's a known scientific phenomenon.
Nonetheless, it is still Friday and that means we need to be somewhere besides where we are. Let's go to Mexico. Grandma is celebrating a milestone birthday this year. Actually, it feels more like a MILESTONE BIRTHDAY. Yes, that's more like it. So, how better to do that than gather the entire clan at an all-inclusive resort along the Caribbean coast of Mexico. And that's exactly what we did last week.
We number twenty-two and range in age from seventy-seven (not me) down to two-and-a-half. We settled on a family-friendly resort called Dreams Puerto Aventuras which is located about an hour or so south of Cancun and a short hour north of Tulum. The ocean here is a beautiful blue, the waves are relatively gentle, fish are thick and perfect for non-threatening shallow snorkeling, and handsome young men or beautiful young women are at the ready to fill your order for an all-inclusive pastel-colored drink. It's just short of heaven.
Now I'm leaning over the balcony just a bit to check out the family pool. My grandchildren & greats--ages five to ten--are all parked at the swim-up bar under the thatched roof. It took them nearly five minutes to find the bar and begin ordering. Some might suggest they are chips off the old block. All I know is that the bartender at the family pool is a saint in the making.
Moving on, we had read about a little pool (A tidal pool, perhaps? I wouldn't know, I'm from Kansas.) Just head out the "Family Pool" door, bear right, and you'll find it. BC helped all the kids feed the fish, but the fish were so aggressive none of them would put a toe in afterward. Scared them to death. Beautiful, though.
Nonetheless, it is still Friday and that means we need to be somewhere besides where we are. Let's go to Mexico. Grandma is celebrating a milestone birthday this year. Actually, it feels more like a MILESTONE BIRTHDAY. Yes, that's more like it. So, how better to do that than gather the entire clan at an all-inclusive resort along the Caribbean coast of Mexico. And that's exactly what we did last week.
We number twenty-two and range in age from seventy-seven (not me) down to two-and-a-half. We settled on a family-friendly resort called Dreams Puerto Aventuras which is located about an hour or so south of Cancun and a short hour north of Tulum. The ocean here is a beautiful blue, the waves are relatively gentle, fish are thick and perfect for non-threatening shallow snorkeling, and handsome young men or beautiful young women are at the ready to fill your order for an all-inclusive pastel-colored drink. It's just short of heaven.
Am I right? I'm standing on our balcony looking out toward the water.
Moving on, we had read about a little pool (A tidal pool, perhaps? I wouldn't know, I'm from Kansas.) Just head out the "Family Pool" door, bear right, and you'll find it. BC helped all the kids feed the fish, but the fish were so aggressive none of them would put a toe in afterward. Scared them to death. Beautiful, though.
We suffered the normal stresses of today's travel. Some planes were late. One was cancelled. There was weather in Dallas. My guess is there is always weather in Dallas. But we all made it. Our rooms were very nice (we were on the recommended seventh floor) and nearly all of them matched our request. Apparently, in the world of Dreams, reservations are requests. I can't explain it.
This isn't Dreams but it gives you an idea of the neighborhood.
Before this vacation, as I was fixating on all that could go wrong, I began telling my kids that the next best thing to an absolutely wonderful vacation is an absolutely horrible vacation. I read that somewhere; the premise being there will be lots to laugh about. Well, another little vagary with Dreams and their six really nice restaurants is that a large group absolutely blows them away. We're an independent bunch, so we simply split up into smaller groups and enjoyed a different restaurant every night. Some ate early, some ate late. Some dressed, some didn't. Did I mention that in all of the restaurants there are no reservations. It is strictly First Come-First Served. It's OK unless you want to reserve for a large group. You can't.
Last Saturday night, twelve of us decided to visit the Italian Restaurant which generally gets rave reviews. It's called Portofino. We wandered down and were reminded (kindly) that Portofino has a dress code. Men must wear long pants and dress shoes. So, son Michael and grandson Collin walked back to their room to change. Seating twelve was problematic, but we waited quite comfortably on Portofino's patio, chatted, and sipped on a little wine. We were quite content until we realized Michael and Collin hadn't come back. A quick search led us to the hotel lobby where a crowd had gathered near the elevators. The elevator on the left which had been temperamental all week, was now stuck and the doors wouldn't open. Long story longer, Michael and Collin were in that elevator which, fortunately, also contained three football-types who proceeded to rip open the doors so everyone could pour out...literally. It was an oven in there.
I know it's been a long story but it's good. Michael met with the Director of Sales who quite graciously asked, "What can we do to make this right?" while no doubt cringing and expecting demands for compensation. My sweet boy answered (the short version) that he would like Dreams to allow all twenty-two of us to sit together the next night at Portofino for a birthday dinner for his mother. You gotta love that thought. And that's just what we did. We were seated at two tables on a covered porch looking over the beach. We had privacy, a gentle refreshing breeze, impeccable attention, and a short visit from the Sales Director himself. It couldn't have been nicer. All is well that finishes well. And this was perfect.
Thanks to BC and my great family, this was absolutely the best birtd I've ever had.
Margie aka GeGe (GG)
6.25.2014
ELEGY...FOR A MEMORY
The words Death or Obituary seemed appropriate as I struggled with a title for this piece but, really, they're much too stark. Too black and white. Elegy became the better choice. After all, elegy speaks of lingering thoughts and memories and mourning. An elegy, in its original intent, is a formal poem--elegant and touching. Elegies, such as those we read in high school, took years to write. Unfortunately, I don't have years, but something happened yesterday and I can't not say something.
I read that Bank of America was leaving western Kansas. Apparently, everything west of I-135 will be left in the dust of the behemoth that once ruled the banking world. "Not enough transactions," I read. I was shocked. "Not enough transactions?" Really? I remember a main bank, two branches, and long lines at all three every Friday afternoon. I remember...
No. I'm not remembering Bank of America at all and, in all honesty, I'm not sure I care whether or not they remain in town...except for how it may affect Dodge City. I'm remembering a long-ago predecessor bank. I'm remembering the greatest place I ever worked. I wish I'd started there sooner and stayed longer, but it was already too late. Bank IV walked in First National Bank's door one afternoon, and by the time they began looking good to us, Nations was ensconced. I left during the brief months before Bank of America completed their sweep of the industry. And now, they're riding out of town.
One summer morning in the late 1980s I parked my car north of the Daily Globe building, walked down the alleyway and knocked on the door of First National Bank. It was 8:00 a.m. and my first day as a Personal Investment Representative was about to begin. It was the second time I had ever been in the bank. I was greeted, welcomed, given a key...a key!!...a time card and a slew of instructions. It was a day of studying and learning and I loved it. Larry Heyka and John Harding dropped by with a smile and a "glad you're here." I was in Hog Heaven.
I had learned the technicalities of banking at Bank of the Southwest, but I learned the real meaning of banking at First National. It meant caring about each person who walked in the door. It meant finding just the right banking product for each customer who sat at my desk. It meant "being in the moment" as each car approached the drive-up window--full attention but always efficient and accurate. Always aware others were waiting, but never rushing the transaction. Yes, I just used the word "each" in every phrase. Perhaps because we were taught so carefully that each person was an individual whose needs were different from every other individual. Our job was to address and satisfy them all. And we did. And we enjoyed it. And I'm grateful I could do it.
I left Dodge City in 2001 but continued to bank at my neighborhood Bank of America in Arizona. But, whenever a problem or question arose, I called Dixie at the North Branch in Dodge City because I knew she would always answer her phone and she would always fix whatever it was. I missed that in Arizona. I miss Annie (the perfect mentor) and Susie and Kay and Barbara, and level-headed Dan, and H. Milt Skaggs reading his USA Today every afternoon in the lobby. And even all of those loan officers (who we secretly said never worked very hard...but we knew they really did. Just in a different way!)
So? I feel badly for Dodge City. I know times have changed. I very seldom walk into our bank here. I pay bills online, automatically deposit, retrieve cash from the ATM, and hardly ever interact with a teller. But I know they're there. The times? They are a changing. But it's oh, so hard to change with them.
Margie
I read that Bank of America was leaving western Kansas. Apparently, everything west of I-135 will be left in the dust of the behemoth that once ruled the banking world. "Not enough transactions," I read. I was shocked. "Not enough transactions?" Really? I remember a main bank, two branches, and long lines at all three every Friday afternoon. I remember...
No. I'm not remembering Bank of America at all and, in all honesty, I'm not sure I care whether or not they remain in town...except for how it may affect Dodge City. I'm remembering a long-ago predecessor bank. I'm remembering the greatest place I ever worked. I wish I'd started there sooner and stayed longer, but it was already too late. Bank IV walked in First National Bank's door one afternoon, and by the time they began looking good to us, Nations was ensconced. I left during the brief months before Bank of America completed their sweep of the industry. And now, they're riding out of town.
One summer morning in the late 1980s I parked my car north of the Daily Globe building, walked down the alleyway and knocked on the door of First National Bank. It was 8:00 a.m. and my first day as a Personal Investment Representative was about to begin. It was the second time I had ever been in the bank. I was greeted, welcomed, given a key...a key!!...a time card and a slew of instructions. It was a day of studying and learning and I loved it. Larry Heyka and John Harding dropped by with a smile and a "glad you're here." I was in Hog Heaven.
I had learned the technicalities of banking at Bank of the Southwest, but I learned the real meaning of banking at First National. It meant caring about each person who walked in the door. It meant finding just the right banking product for each customer who sat at my desk. It meant "being in the moment" as each car approached the drive-up window--full attention but always efficient and accurate. Always aware others were waiting, but never rushing the transaction. Yes, I just used the word "each" in every phrase. Perhaps because we were taught so carefully that each person was an individual whose needs were different from every other individual. Our job was to address and satisfy them all. And we did. And we enjoyed it. And I'm grateful I could do it.
I left Dodge City in 2001 but continued to bank at my neighborhood Bank of America in Arizona. But, whenever a problem or question arose, I called Dixie at the North Branch in Dodge City because I knew she would always answer her phone and she would always fix whatever it was. I missed that in Arizona. I miss Annie (the perfect mentor) and Susie and Kay and Barbara, and level-headed Dan, and H. Milt Skaggs reading his USA Today every afternoon in the lobby. And even all of those loan officers (who we secretly said never worked very hard...but we knew they really did. Just in a different way!)
So? I feel badly for Dodge City. I know times have changed. I very seldom walk into our bank here. I pay bills online, automatically deposit, retrieve cash from the ATM, and hardly ever interact with a teller. But I know they're there. The times? They are a changing. But it's oh, so hard to change with them.
Margie
6.23.2014
"THE GAME OF LIFE..."
Shortly into my Life Coaching experience, Jay asked me to read a book by Florence Scovel Shinn titled: The Game of Life and How to Play It. "It's a quick read," he explained. "Just tell me what you think."
Well, as I began the book, what I thought was, "Florence Scovel Shinn is nutty as a fruitcake." She wrote her book in the early 1920s, shortly before my Mom started college. I only bring that up because my mother had a friend there named "Pan" after Peter Pan. Before any exam, Pan would bring the applicable books and notes to the local Catholic church, carefully stack them on the front pew, sit on them and pray. Even if Pan had not read Florence Scovel Shinn, she was most certainly on the same wave-length. I remember laughing and laughing at that story.
Florence Scovel Shinn was a participant in the "New Thought" movement of the early "20s and, per the introduction to her book, attempted "to bring metaphysical ideas down to earth for everyday people." I immediately "poo-poohed" Florence, read the first three chapters and put The Game of Life... aside, picking up Jack Canfield's The Success Principles.
I've never been known as a quick study, but somewhere in Chapter Six of The Success Principles, I began to hear echoes of--could it be--Florence Scovel Shinn. I am gobbling up every word of Jack Canfield, underlining and taking notes, and all of a sudden I'm reading a contemporary version of Florence's advice. Wham! I have had an epiphany.
On my next visit with Jay I asked, "Do you really believe that positive affirmations will make things come true...ala Florence Scovel Shinn?" "Well," he answered, "I do believe that positive attracts positive, and negative will attract more negativity." My slowness in understanding ephemeral concepts is, no doubt, a burden for a life coach. After all, our entire first session had been about the power of positive affirmations in rewiring the brain. OK, so now, maybe I'm beginning to grasp the concept.
Let's look at a little of Florence's work as it pertains to affirmations. First of all, an affirmation must be believable to you or, as Florence would say, "...absolutely satisfying and convincing to (your) own consciousness..." Affirmations must also be "carefully worded", unlimited but specific, and cover all your ground. For example: "Infinite Intelligence, give me the right house, equally as charming as this, [appropriate when your perfect house deal falls through] the house which is mine by divine right." If you're a little uncomfortable bringing in the divine (Florence never hesitates), I'm sure you can work around it.
Or this: Pretend you are what you hope to be. Florence calls it "make believe," whereas Jack Canfield describes it in minute Jack Canfield detail, and others label it "imagining," "imaging," or "visioning." Whatever you call it, do it (don't force it) and watch the results.
I'm a little afraid to look like a "New Thought" throwback but, as I skimmed Florence again this morning, more and more caught my eye. She is extremely spiritual (in an interesting sort of way) but don't let that stop you. Once you get it--and I'm still processing--it's a wonderful road map. Give it a look!
Margie
Well, as I began the book, what I thought was, "Florence Scovel Shinn is nutty as a fruitcake." She wrote her book in the early 1920s, shortly before my Mom started college. I only bring that up because my mother had a friend there named "Pan" after Peter Pan. Before any exam, Pan would bring the applicable books and notes to the local Catholic church, carefully stack them on the front pew, sit on them and pray. Even if Pan had not read Florence Scovel Shinn, she was most certainly on the same wave-length. I remember laughing and laughing at that story.
Florence Scovel Shinn was a participant in the "New Thought" movement of the early "20s and, per the introduction to her book, attempted "to bring metaphysical ideas down to earth for everyday people." I immediately "poo-poohed" Florence, read the first three chapters and put The Game of Life... aside, picking up Jack Canfield's The Success Principles.
I've never been known as a quick study, but somewhere in Chapter Six of The Success Principles, I began to hear echoes of--could it be--Florence Scovel Shinn. I am gobbling up every word of Jack Canfield, underlining and taking notes, and all of a sudden I'm reading a contemporary version of Florence's advice. Wham! I have had an epiphany.
On my next visit with Jay I asked, "Do you really believe that positive affirmations will make things come true...ala Florence Scovel Shinn?" "Well," he answered, "I do believe that positive attracts positive, and negative will attract more negativity." My slowness in understanding ephemeral concepts is, no doubt, a burden for a life coach. After all, our entire first session had been about the power of positive affirmations in rewiring the brain. OK, so now, maybe I'm beginning to grasp the concept.
Let's look at a little of Florence's work as it pertains to affirmations. First of all, an affirmation must be believable to you or, as Florence would say, "...absolutely satisfying and convincing to (your) own consciousness..." Affirmations must also be "carefully worded", unlimited but specific, and cover all your ground. For example: "Infinite Intelligence, give me the right house, equally as charming as this, [appropriate when your perfect house deal falls through] the house which is mine by divine right." If you're a little uncomfortable bringing in the divine (Florence never hesitates), I'm sure you can work around it.
Or this: Pretend you are what you hope to be. Florence calls it "make believe," whereas Jack Canfield describes it in minute Jack Canfield detail, and others label it "imagining," "imaging," or "visioning." Whatever you call it, do it (don't force it) and watch the results.
I'm a little afraid to look like a "New Thought" throwback but, as I skimmed Florence again this morning, more and more caught my eye. She is extremely spiritual (in an interesting sort of way) but don't let that stop you. Once you get it--and I'm still processing--it's a wonderful road map. Give it a look!
Margie
6.20.2014
2014 HOME MOVIES
When I was a kid, my Uncle Joe and Aunt Pauline traveled a lot--or so it seemed to me. In the 1940s, Uncle Joe discovered a gift for playing the market and paying $0.25 an acre for godforsaken Kansas dirt that covered huge pools of pricy and sought-after oil. Uncle Joe was a quietly wealthy man. He and Aunt Pauline had no children, no real responsibilities, so they traveled. They did Europe in a private car with a French driver. They spent weeks at a time in China. They frequented Acapulco resorts and, most exciting and scandalous for me, were once arrested and briefly detained by the feds when Uncle Joe loaded up the trunk of his expensive car with cases of bourbon in Kansas City, Missouri, then illegally crossed the border into a very dry Kansas City, Kansas. Their lives had a certain panache that was missing from ours.
Although I loved many things about Uncle Joe and Aunt Pauline, I especially loved being invited to their house when Uncle Joe showed his home movies. It was still rare for an individual to own a movie camera in those days and I was awed by the magical atmosphere in their darkened living room as the film flipped from reel to reel in his temperamental projector. Uncle Joe's running commentary, interrupted frequently by Aunt Pauline's corrections, was detailed and long. It drove my mother crazy, but it was heaven for a little girl who ached to see the world outside of her neighborhood.
Moving on now, but in the spirit of Uncle Joe, I'm putting up a few photos from our recent Midwest Odyssey. I did all the photo work with my trusty iPhone and, not unlike Uncle Joe, I find correct focusing to be elusive and subject matter often a bit mundane...but I was inspired at the time.
Day 1: A decent time for lunch has come and gone due to our ever so slightly late departure. We're in Holbrook and the selection of restaurants, lunch spots, diners, drive-ins and dives is severely limited. We've always turned left at the intersection and been disappointed. Today, we turned right. Within a few blocks we were making a U-Turn on Bucket of Blood Street. That's nearly as appetizing as Deadhorse Lake and Bloody Basin Road, both of which we've passed by this morning. Let's move on.
Day 5: We're back at the farm recuperating from the 60th Annual Jamestown All School High School Reunion which, I'm pleased to say, came complete with a really good steak and passable wine. We sat at a table with a small group who graduated from Jamestown High the same year I was born. They were cool and I found that to be encouraging.
Day 6: Memorial Day. Note to family. If you ignore my instructions for a cremation, at least humor me with a creative headstone. Thanking you in advance...
Day 7: We've handed off the BMW, my hostess is volunteering at the Wichita Zoo and I'm craving a bit of Headspace Meditation. It's been a week without. As Headspace Andy works his low-key magic, Sadie visibly relaxes. Sadie likes meditation. A lot.
Day 8: How many hundreds of pictures have you seen just like this? I know, but, they're just so darned cute when you're right there! Maggie (the furry girl on the left) fell in love with Addy (the near-naked baby on the right) with no hesitation. Perhaps Maggie used to live in a Day Care. We don't know.
Day 10: It's Friday, May 30, 2014, and Mario Kart 8 is officially available to Mario afficionados who pre-ordered it some time ago. Change of Subject: I just went on to Wikipedia to remind myself who my avatars had been for the hundreds of games I played with Grandson Jackson over the next few hours after this photo was taken. (They were Peach and Daisy, neither of whom can drive worth a damn.) You would not believe--there are pages and pages of Wikipedia information on Mario Kart 8. I'm not smart enough to read it...nor to understand it. But, what a franchise! You've got to go there--it's apparently very scientific and statistical.
Day 11, cont: I really wanted to show you the great medical facility recently completed for the elephants at the zoo, but I took the picture through glass and it's more reflection than commentary on how huge and strong an elephant really is. If you've ever seen a modern equine facility, the elephant quarters make that look like it was built out of Tinkertoys. Impressive! Since I blew that, I've substituted a really neat rhino who is about to go swimming.
Although I loved many things about Uncle Joe and Aunt Pauline, I especially loved being invited to their house when Uncle Joe showed his home movies. It was still rare for an individual to own a movie camera in those days and I was awed by the magical atmosphere in their darkened living room as the film flipped from reel to reel in his temperamental projector. Uncle Joe's running commentary, interrupted frequently by Aunt Pauline's corrections, was detailed and long. It drove my mother crazy, but it was heaven for a little girl who ached to see the world outside of her neighborhood.
Moving on now, but in the spirit of Uncle Joe, I'm putting up a few photos from our recent Midwest Odyssey. I did all the photo work with my trusty iPhone and, not unlike Uncle Joe, I find correct focusing to be elusive and subject matter often a bit mundane...but I was inspired at the time.
Day 1: A decent time for lunch has come and gone due to our ever so slightly late departure. We're in Holbrook and the selection of restaurants, lunch spots, diners, drive-ins and dives is severely limited. We've always turned left at the intersection and been disappointed. Today, we turned right. Within a few blocks we were making a U-Turn on Bucket of Blood Street. That's nearly as appetizing as Deadhorse Lake and Bloody Basin Road, both of which we've passed by this morning. Let's move on.
Day 5: We're back at the farm recuperating from the 60th Annual Jamestown All School High School Reunion which, I'm pleased to say, came complete with a really good steak and passable wine. We sat at a table with a small group who graduated from Jamestown High the same year I was born. They were cool and I found that to be encouraging.
Day 6: Memorial Day. Note to family. If you ignore my instructions for a cremation, at least humor me with a creative headstone. Thanking you in advance...
Day 7: We've handed off the BMW, my hostess is volunteering at the Wichita Zoo and I'm craving a bit of Headspace Meditation. It's been a week without. As Headspace Andy works his low-key magic, Sadie visibly relaxes. Sadie likes meditation. A lot.
Day 8: How many hundreds of pictures have you seen just like this? I know, but, they're just so darned cute when you're right there! Maggie (the furry girl on the left) fell in love with Addy (the near-naked baby on the right) with no hesitation. Perhaps Maggie used to live in a Day Care. We don't know.
Day 10: It's Friday, May 30, 2014, and Mario Kart 8 is officially available to Mario afficionados who pre-ordered it some time ago. Change of Subject: I just went on to Wikipedia to remind myself who my avatars had been for the hundreds of games I played with Grandson Jackson over the next few hours after this photo was taken. (They were Peach and Daisy, neither of whom can drive worth a damn.) You would not believe--there are pages and pages of Wikipedia information on Mario Kart 8. I'm not smart enough to read it...nor to understand it. But, what a franchise! You've got to go there--it's apparently very scientific and statistical.
Day 11: Since becoming a G'Ma some years ago, I've seen my share of zoos, but the Oklahoma City Zoo is really very nice. This is just my little bit of social correctness and a reminder that our environment is going to hell in a hurry, so be careful!
Day 13: I love nothing more than babysitting children with creative imaginations, but I'm beginning to wear down. Jackson, I think your Mommy and Daddy are coming home today! Yes!! Today!!! Hooray!!!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)