Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Man Flu is an interesting malady that I'm sure, though you may have been unaware of the terminology, has affected one or more of the men in your life.
The only way I can describe it is to reference my personal experiences with the debilitating disease and explain it in ways most women will understand.
Picture Mom. She takes care of two children every day, goes to work, comes home to clean the house, make dinner, bathe the children, take care of the laundry, and go grocery shopping.
Though it seldom happens, one day Mom gets the flu. She has a fever, is vomiting, and races to the bathroom for bouts of diarrhea, but she continues to go to work, to clean the house, to take care of the laundry, to go grocery shopping, and to take care of the kids while Daddy reclines on the couch watching football. He shouts commands at Mommy from the living room – what's for dinner – can you get me a beer – I can't reach the remote that I dropped – can you pick it up for me.
Now picture Dad. The poor man has the sniffles. Incapable of making it into work, he drags his slumped shoulders from his bed and complains about how his whole body feels as if it has been run over by a truck. As if you can't see it by his droopy eyes, a look he has perfected over the years, he is completely exhausted.
All the poor suffering man can do is grab the Wii remote and play numerous games on one television while racing back to finish the taped football game on the other television at the other end of the house and request you to bring his coffee, make his breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and prepare plates filled with snacks.
Throughout the day he will take numerous naps and inquire about medicines he should be taking, all the while asking you to feel his head for fever.
That, my friends, is Man Flu.
Disclaimer – I have several male friends I cherish. Not all men suffer from this affliction. But many of the men I've known throughout the years serve as textbook examples of this, um, sickness.
P.S. Have you read my Dating Advice from My Mother blog? Or my Road Trips in the Flintstonefossilmobile? If not check them out.
Monday, December 28, 2009
I have no memory of what type of car Mom drove to get us around when my sisters and I were young and my dad was working. I think it was a Ford. I do remember the dread we felt when we got into it though.
I refer to it as the Flintstonefossilmobile because it had a hole in floor of the back seat, and we could pretend we were driving the car with our feet just like Fred Flintstone used to do.
All three of us were embarrassed to be seen in it, and we definitely didn't want any attention drawn to us, but with a muffler that sounded like a Harley on acid, we were doomed to grab the attention of anybody within a twelve block radius.
And we did. EVERYBODY turned around to identify the sonic boom that shook the ground as we paraded down the street, and all three sisters crouched down in the back seat to hide from the leerers.
Despite our attempts to hide, though, Mom had a magical way of drawing even more unwanted attention our way. One day, as she was driving us to school, a spider dropped from the roof to align with her eyes. We didn't know about the spider when the car veered toward the curb, because the spider wiped out Mom's ability to speak, but we knew we were scared.
"Mom, you're getting close to the curb!" I'm sure the spider was taunting her at this point, but, as I said, we were unaware of its presence. Mom didn't want to touch the spider and the only thing she could do was pray that it went back up its web. It didn't.
"Mom, STOP! You're on the curb!" It hung in front of her, probably thinking (do spiders have brains), "Hmmm I see you have your children in the back seat. Let's see if we can cause this old jalopy to crash like a tin can." Her eyes widened as she thought about how to get rid of the hanging spider, totally oblivious to the fact that she WAS DRIVING.
After she clunked over the curb, we called out, "Mom, you're on the grass now! Slow down!" We saw the front steps of the house directly in our path become an obvious target. Closer and closer to our car it appeared. Mom, however, heavy leaden (though microscopically small) foot on the accelerator, saw only the spider.
By this time, maniacal children were screaming all around us. Oh, wait…that was the three of us. MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMM!
She stopped just short of the steps, quickly threw the car in park, and ran out of the car, leaving the three of us in the early stages of a heart attack.
Yes, driving with my family has always been interesting. And occasionally, for one reason or another, my parents have been known to abandon the car in a hurry and leave at least one of us inside.
On a trip through the Arizona desert, for instance, WITHOUT AIR CONDITIONING in the MIDDLE OF AUGUST a wasp flew into the car. My sister, Cindy, a sound sleeper, had fallen asleep and didn't hear my mom scream, "GET OUT OF THE CAR. RIGHT NOW!!" So the rest of us jumped out of the car and waited for the wasp to stop crawling on her.
I still remember the look on her face when she awoke to see all of us staring at her from outside the car and hearing my parents tell her, "Don't move!"
Those words haunt me. We were on a trip to a place in Michigan that I think was called Smallbones Resort. It was located somewhere around the Three Sisters Lake. The resort no longer exists, from what I hear, but when we were kids we made several trips there with cousins, aunts, and uncles.
On the "Don't move!" day, when I was around thirteen years old, a wasp landed on my shoulder. Mom went into a frenzy. "DON'T MOVE!" she commanded me. We had recently been told that I was highly allergic to bee stings and that if one stung me three times I would die. I stood like a tin soldier.
Mom and Dad stood in front of me watching the wasp wander across my shoulder. I trembled with fear. My father grabbed a rolled up newspaper and my parents argued about whether or not to swat it.
Dad raised the newspaper.
"NO! Don't. It might sting her."
"But if I don't, it might sting her anyway."
"Stand completely still. DON'T MOVE!"
He raised the newspaper again. I squinted my eyes waiting for the assault, either from the newspaper or the wasp.
"NO! Don't. It might sting her."
"But if I don't, it might sting her anyway."
"Stand completely still. DON'T MOVE!"
He tried again. I thought I was going to pass out.
"NO! Don't. It might sting her."
"But if I don't, it might sting her anyway."
"Stand completely still. DON'T MOVE!"
Repeat numerous times, and each time, picture the bee crawling further up my neck.
It might not surprise you to learn that we all suffered from bugphobia (it's a term used only for my family, so perhaps you've never heard of it). For most of our lives, especially when it concerned bees, wasps, and spiders, we lived in fear of anything that we perceived to be harmful.
And that included tiny little insect-sized humans who drove fossil cars, like my mother.
(image from http://i-love-cartoons.com/snags/clipart/Hanna-Barbera/Fred-Flintstone-Barney-Rubble-Car.php)
Thursday, December 17, 2009
What's the difference between a Sanitary Pad and a Bachelor Pad?
(raising hand and shaking it vigorously) OOH! I know! I know!
But I might never have made the connection if it hadn't been for – oh, here we go again – sorry – I CANNOT mention her name, but you might remember her from a previous post. (Click the link if you want to read about another one of Beebeeshababa's adventures.)
Yes, folks, Beebeeshababa has given me reason to blog about her AGAIN.
She is dating a divorced father of a 2-year old daughter. We'll call him Vgfoatyo (acronym for very good father of a two year old). I have not as yet met this man, but he sounds like somebody I would like – well, except for one small detail – read on.
Unfortunately, like most men dating women, Vgfoatyo is totally unprepared for a woman's monthly visitor, so when Vgfoatyo left for work in the morning and Beebeeshababa was getting ready to leave for her job, Beebeeshababa woke up with her period and a house void of sanitary supplies.
She probably could have removed his roll of toilet paper and stuck that between her legs, but that would have left him with nothing, and what if he had to come home from work and well, you know, poop? Not a good idea.
Besides, walking around with a roll of toilet paper wedged between her legs would be uncomfortable and it would have shown through her pants.
She could have used folded paper towels, but unless she had tape to hold them in place, they might have crawled out of her pants, rising slowly up her back with every step she took, and how disgusting would that have been?
So she had to come up with an alternative.
Running around in a frantic search for anything that looked remotely similar to a sanitary pad but unable to find anything, she paused for a brief moment when she discovered something that just might work, Vgfoatyo's daughter's Pull-Ups.
Would it be at all possible to fit into them? she wondered.
Before I go any further, I must explain to you that Beebeeshababa is very much like my mother (oh, no, did I somehow manage to maybe hint at her identity) – microscopically small. You could probably pick her up with one hand and place her in your pocket, so yes, the Pull-Ups found their way up her skinny little legs and over her tiny hips.
For the first time in 20+ years, Beebeeshababa could parade around her boyfriend's home wearing a diaper. Not that she had a boyfriend 20+ years ago, but imagining her wearing a diaper is kind of disturbing.
All kinds of images swarm my brain. She had to drive home to change her diaper (that cracks me up just thinking about it). But what if she had gotten pulled over for a broken TAIL light (again, cracking myself up here) or somebody BUTT into her (will this ever END)?
But really, how hard is it for a man to equip his home with NECESSITIES? How pathetic is it for a woman to have to search for a substitute for sanitary napkins when the guy could be a sweetie and provide them? Is it too much to ask to keep sanitary supplies in a man's cabinet for us?
So here's to the men reading this blog – if you have a woman in your life, do her a favor, will you? Keep some sanitary supplies in your bathroom. And if you're not comfortable with sanitary supplies, keep some Pull-Ups or even large diapers on hand – something.
So what's the difference between sanitary pads and bachelor pads? Isn't it obvious? Bachelor pads can be sanitary, but sanitary pads can't be bachelors.
Oh, come on, people. It's just a blog.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Thanks to Kelly, who has an online business degree and has supported this blog.
Monday, November 30, 2009
If you believe that we hold within ourselves all of the answers to life's mysteries, I invite you to delve into the mind of my daughter, Lindsey, who has come up with a remedy to one of life's problems – a way to prevent car crashes.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Monday, November 16, 2009
Young children ask questions. Parents and grandparents are supposed to answer them. For most of my life I have had to figure out ways to answer multitudes of questions asked by numerous inquiring minds from my children to my grandchildren to the children for whom I have provided care. Unfortunately, I sometimes have no answers.
Monday, November 2, 2009
If you read My Bravest Blog Yet, you got the chance to see what I look like bald. Here is what I look like with a wig. Note the comparison between my mother and myself.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
The CHECK ENGINE light – how man times has your car sent you that message? What does it mean? And what do you do about it?
What – you think I know? Silly reader. I don't know. But I know somebody (or some place) that does. The fact that it is located more miles away from me than I would care to drive but that it's also on the Internet makes it easy to get to. Houston Auto Repair is now my Repair Pal.
Before I go any further, let me explain to you what I know about cars: they provide transportation from point A to point B. I hate stereotypes, but I can't deny my complete lack of knowledge when it comes to cars and car repairs. I know NOTHING about cars.
In my defense, I've met guys who knew nothing about cars, too. Like the guy who told me that the problem with one of my cars was its Cadillac converter. And I thought, WOW, I didn't know it had that function. Silly guy. He was trying to impress me and even I knew he was talking about the catalytic converter. But that's it. I know my car has an engine, because I have had to replace those amazingly expensive parts not once, but TWICE. And I know about transmissions, because I have had to replace that extraordinarily expensive item once.
But let's go waaaay back to my first car. It blew. Completely. I was a teenager who knew less about cars then than I do now. And what did my father say? "When's the last time you put oil into it?"
"Oil? You have to put oil into it?" Apparently there are some things my father thought I was born knowing. The car maintenance gene, however, did not get transferred to me.
Having said that, I do know some things, and what I don't know, I usually depend on the experience of service techs to teach me when I take my car in for repairs and oil changes. Which makes me an easy target.
BUT I am smart, and I love to research, and, thanks to my love for research, I now have access to LOTS of technical support via my Repair Pal!
What's a Repair Pal, you want to know? Glad you asked.
When a repair tech tells me I need a tune up, I can consult my REPAIR PAL to get the information I need about what exactly is involved in a tune up.
And if I want ratings and reviews of cars made between 1990-2001 I can start by checking out this Acura Integra, where I can also read questions and answers about common problems and learn about which cars were recalled or issued TSBs (Technical Service Bulletins – and you thought I didn't know what that was).
I also know more about oil changes and filter changes. The Auto Repair Encyclopedia even lists the mileage at which you should check for scheduled maintenance, and in its "How To – Helpful Hints" section you can read about why your engine knocks or pings and why your brakes squeak.
Lots of recommendations and lots of questions answered. Ever wondered why your car leaks? Find information on how to recognize common and not so common leak problems. It even offers advice on how to replace your wiper blades.
Knowing what to say when I bring my car in for maintenance helps me look at least somewhat informed when it comes to auto repairs, so I can tell the technician what I THINK the problem is. And when the tech calls me over to show me what's under the hood, I can tell the difference between the oil receptacle and the place where the windshield washer fluid goes. This is a great resource for anybody who knows as little about cars as I do.
The next time you have to bring your auto in for repairs, don't allow unscrupulous repair techs to rip you off. Go to Houston Auto Repair first to educate yourself about YOUR car and to manage your maintenance ONLINE..
(Check Engine graphic above was borrowed from Houston Auto Repair's web site.)
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
I had to tell my kids this year that we were going to have to cut back on gifts for Christmas. Money has been grim, so I've been looking online for family video games as gifts for my kids and grandkids. I used to give each person his or her own gift, but with four kids, three spouses, ten grandchildren, two more spouses, and two great grandchildren, I'm pretty much tapped out in the finance department, so this year, everybody gets a "family" gift. Well, except for the unmarried ones among the group.
Two of my kids have Wiis, so, not knowing which video games they already have, I thought I would let them pick out the one they want me to get for their family gifts, something that everybody in the family would enjoy playing. I found a great resource for VIDEO GAMES and this blog is my way of asking Greg (and his family) and Brittney (and her family) to click the link. Please tell me which game you want. They have lots of other games too, though, so if you want a Playstation III game or an XBox 360, I'll get you one of those instead.
And now a gift for Lindsey. I know, Linz, you already have my Christmas present, but this one is free and it's lots of fun. I think you'll enjoy it. And it fits in so well with why you're going to school.
Lindsey is my second oldest daughter who loved playing dress up games even when she was a baby. Every morning she went into my closet, examined my little scattering of shoes, and always picked out the same pair (I had only two classy shoe styles – she preferred the brown straps to my decade old black and gold 70's platform shoes). She would then gather her bracelets, necklaces, crown, and rings, and parade around the house in her pajama top and diaper. Very cute. Well, I just found the perfect online dress up game for her.
This online dress up game is fun and FUNNY! Well, funny for me – fun for Lindsey. You see, I have no fashion sense whatsoever, so when I tried to play dress up games, I lost miserably. Lindsey is going into fashion merchandising (she didn't get that talent from me obviously), so I'm sure she will do much better than I did. And it won't cost me a penny, because this Dress Up Game is free (click the link). She can even play it at work during down time (don't show this to your boss, Lindsey).
I even found a game I like to play (I love skills games and brain games – they have both, and LOTS more). You can find so many games on this site.
Keeley and her family don't have a computer, so I'm saving this blog for her when she makes trips to the library (do they let you play games at the library?) – if so try any of those links above.
While I wasn't necessarily looking for anything specific for my parents or siblings, I came across something I know one of my sisters will LOVE. I can't tell you why. No, I'm not trying to be evasive. Let's just say that Cindy has been setting up a web site that concerns beauty, and I found something she may want to use to connect to her site that offers beauty information for her visitors. Cindy, check out this BEAUTY INFORMATION site – they offer skin care analysis, hair care consultation, a fragrance finder, and even (you know I love this) a beauty horoscope. Plus they offer expert advice, so I think it will make a great link for the site. I promise to tell everybody the name of her site when it is up and running. For now, though, it's a secret.
That was my "hook" to get you to come back to my blog. Will it work? I hope so.
Friday, October 16, 2009
I would stand behind my father when he opened the door to welcome the little masked goblins, and wait to see the looks on their faces as Dad commanded them to say, "trick or treat" if they hadn't already said it. He refused to give anybody candy until they said those magic Halloween words.
What my dad did from that point on, though, probably scared the little trick or treaters and frightened their parents as well, because what Dad did was grab their hoard of candy from them – bag, plastic pumpkin and all – and just before he slammed the door in their faces, yell, "TRICK!"
Of course he always opened the door immediately and returned their treats, but the looks on the faces of those innocent little children was priceless. Their bodies never moved. They looked like a photograph frozen in time – in exactly the same position as when Dad first closed the door. Their parents stood at the end of the sidewalk in shock – another still photograph framed by the doorway – and Dad and whoever was standing at the door with him would bend over in hysterics.
I am always tempted to follow my father's lead and grab the bag of candy from some poor unsuspecting child, but these days you never know what awaits you at the end of the sidewalk. And so I just say,
Monday, October 12, 2009
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Saturday, September 19, 2009
My Dad had an annoying habit of driving in the left-hand lane of a four-lane highway at the same speed as the driver on his right. If the driver on his right slowed down, my dad slowed down. If the driver on his right sped up, my dad sped up.
As a child I was fascinated by this game and I watched his face in the rear view mirror whenever he played it. As the cars lined up behind him, his cheeks rose higher and higher and the grin that spread across his face grew wider and wider as the line of cars behind him grew longer and longer. I figured he was probably playing some kind of follow the leader game, and he was winning.
Faces of the drivers behind us were contorted into all kinds of shapes, and the gestures they made were frightful.
The drivers in the cars next to us were sometimes oblivious to what Dad was doing. Other times I'm sure they couldn't help but wonder if Dad was stalking them, despite the fact that Mom was sitting in the passenger seat.
Having grown up with a father who loved I now refer to as the "Control Road Antagonist Ploy" game (CRAP for short), I learned that other people enjoyed controlling the road as well, and I discovered that my father's idea of enjoyment was diametrically opposed to my own idea of fun.
I hate to judge anybody, though, so I'd like to give those other annoying drivers the benefit of the doubt. Maybe they are the daydreamers among us, taking a leisurely drive down a crowded highway, oblivious to the tantrums being thrown in cars around them. Maybe I am just being hypercritical.
All these many many years I sincerely believed in the goodness of other drivers UNTIL I spoke with my brother-in-law, Craig, about this issue. When I told him my theory of what I believed to be a game drivers played when they speed up to join a slow driver on their right, he acknowledged that he played that game all the time. I knew it! I knew they were doing it on purpose.
So I've been thinking about how to out-annoy them. And here's what I've come up with – an ear-shattering horn that looks like a gun. I roll down my window and aim, and as the sound comes out of the pseudo gun, out pops a flag that says, "You win! Now move on!" If only I could figure out how to get between them and the car next to them.
Monday, September 14, 2009
During the initial phases of childbirth, women begin to feel what some people refer to as "uncomfortable." I remember calling my mother and telling her I was on the way to the hospital, but not to get too hopeful, because it was probably just gas. In my top ten list of amazing discoveries made during childbirth, counting down from ten, my Surpise #10 – it wasn't gas.
A pregnant woman mentally prepares herself for the anguish of knowing a thousand people will be parading through the room at any given moment, and unless she has been perfectly prepared, she will be as surprised as I was by my Surprise #9 – getting shaved.
Surprise #8 was later discovering that when hair growth begins (almost immediately), those tiny little standup straight hairs get caught in the fabric of whatever you happen to be wearing.
Surprise #7 is my all-time favorite surprise, because this one includes the significant other who, instead of being your helpmate, your stronghold, your soft shoulder to lean on, has to tell you exactly WHEN you will be getting your next contraction. "Oh, here comes another big one, Honey!" Along with uterine contractions, you may experience the same vengeful loathing I felt as the muscles in my eyes contracted into a scathing squint.
Unless you give birth at home, interns and residents will poke and prod your belly. They, along with your husband, watch the monitor in gleeful anticipation of your next contraction. If you're lucky, you will get a doctor who uses her palm to feel the contraction. Surpise #7 is finding a doctor who loves to prod with the points of all of his fingers – on both hands – stabbing you at once and disovering that your reflex is to kick him in the groin.
Reflection time: I remember the first moment of feeling a flutter – a tiny movement, something so uniquely different from anything I had ever felt before, a tiny foot, or perhaps an arm or an elbow pushing me at some midway point in my pregnancy. I remember the exhilaration I felt upon first feeling "life" – so imagine my Surprise #6 – pain so intense I could have crushed the hospital with my thoughts. Nobody can prepare you for that level of pain, because you will probably hear numerous stories about how "I went to the hospital at 3 AM and by 3:01, she just popped out." I hated those people.
Surprise #5 was discovering I would not be able to engage in sex for several weeks. But the surprise was more of a "Why would I ever want to do THAT again," than a whiny, "Oh why not?"
Surprise #4 was a surprise filled with regret – oh why oh why did I not allow you to drug me? Why oh why was it SO important for me to go through a "natural" childbirth?
Surprise #3 actually came when I realized, after experiencing the ultimate joy of being pregnant for nine months, that I was warning myself to "NEVER DO THIS AGAIN – NEVER FORGET" combined with a deep-seated wish that my husband were the one giving birth.
And yet, moments after giving birth, I completely forgot the warnings I gave to myself, the regrets over having a natural childbirth, because my #2 surprise was discovering the intensity and depth of love I felt for this little infant I had been carrying around with me for nine months. Giving birth and the process of releasing a child into the world may have created a void in my womb, but it was instantly filled with a love so deep and so profound, I marveled at my ability to love so strongly and to feel so protective.
But the biggest surprise of all, my #1 Surprise was realizing I would be willing to do it all over again, and again, and again.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Of course, every time I think of toys, I think of my grandchildren. With so many birthdays every year, not to mention Christmas in less than four months, I decided to look now for an October birthday gift for one of my granddaughters. What I found though, was something I would have loved to have had as a child – a doll house.
I remember going to the Museum of Science and Industry in Chicago (I lived down the street) and seeing this amazing doll house with so many intricate details in each room, from paintings on the wall to tiny cups on a serving tray. I wanted it to fit in my house. My dad refused to open the ceiling though, so I had to suffer my whole childhood without that dollhouse. But oh, how I would have loved to have had any of the ones found HERE.
And lest I forget my older grandchildren, I can't overlook electronic toys, so I found several possibilities HERE. I even found one some adults might like – an "American Idol All Star Challenge DVD Game" and a portable DVD player. The best thing though, for those of us with limited incomes, is that everything I've looked at so far is reasonably priced.
Now to look into getting that scooter!
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Yesterday I went back to the future. I tried to get the wireless connection working on my ancient laptop, but couldn't, so I took it to the local Apple dealer instead.
Have you ever put a key into a lock that didn’t work? One of my daughters and I were discussing the many times we’ve encountered just that problem. Sometimes it’s with cars (as when we attempt to force our keys into what turns out to be somebody else’s car), and sometimes it happens with houses.
One year I moved into an apartment complex with numerous buildings that all looked exactly alike. A friend and I had gone out for a couple of drinks (hmm, come to think of it, that might have contributed to the problem), and she let me off at my new apartment.
“I’ll stay here until I see the door open,” she offered as a measure of protection (I have always had amazing friends). She watched me climb the stairs, walk down the long outdoor hallway, stand before my door, and fidget with the lock.
After numerous attempts I looked over at her and saw her raise both palms upward and shrug her shoulders. I did the same. After more attempts, I walked down the long hallway, down the steps, and right back into her car.
“What do you want to do?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I thought out loud. “Maybe my key isn’t working.”
Turns out I lived one building to the west.
My daughter’s favorite driving story is about the time she and a couple of friends were driving one friend home after a party. They pulled into the driveway and when Sema didn’t open the door, they said, “Sema, you’re home – get out!”
“But this isn’t my house,” she argued.
“YES! It is, now open the door.” Reluctantly Sema left the car and walked up to the front door where she found herself standing face to face with her next-door neighbor at 2 o’clock in the morning, saying the only thing she could think to say, “Have you seen my brother?”
But the highlight of my driving experiences is one of those déjà vu moments that reminded me of the time I was taking driver’s ed in high school. The instructor and two other students were male. I was the only female.
In those days, wheels didn’t return to their original position, so when I made a right turn, I ended up speeding through a field directly into the path of a house. Every time the instructor yelled, “BRAKES! BRAKES!” I accelerated more and more. When I saw the whites of the eyes of the family seated at their breakfast table staring at me with mouths agape, something snapped inside me and I slammed on the breaks just in time to see the two other students cowering in embarrassment on the floor of the back seat.
And so here I was, decades later, working for a home party company heading into the country to find – from the driving directions that included no street names – landmarks such as poles, statues, and baskets. I was never very good at seeing in the dark, and this brand new street had no lights yet. I had to continuously vacate my car and walk up to each house just to locate the address.
Finally, I thought I had it figured out and I pulled my car directly in front of what I thought would be the correct house. For reasons I couldn’t understand, I saw the father wrap his arms around his children and rush them into the house. When I came to a stop, I noticed the circular driveway in front of me running to my left and to my right. Too bad I didn’t see it before I drove across their newly landscaped lawn.
(photo of Nicolas Cage – "this isn't my house" in The Family Man is from IMDB – Internet Movie Data Base)
Monday, August 17, 2009
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Audrey and Kaden were looking out a window at a couple of guys parked across the street from my house. "That's Tommy," Audrey told Kaden.