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 |   Exploring the future through the present. One day at a time. |
| Most of us love the written word. Spending time in a bookstore, leafing through pages of books in wonder, awe and excitement of what each page contains is a moment in Heaven. We then weep when we see books defaced or destroyed, as if we lose a part of ourselves in the process. There are exceptions, however. Old books can be given a second life through a carving knife, an artist's way of showing the richness and beauty of what otherwise looks old, worn out, and even useless. Check out this website, and you’ll see what I mean: http://centripetalnotion.com/2007/09/13/13:26:26/ |
| Okay, who did it? I know you’re out there, hiding and giggling at me. You didn’t take it out of necessity for yourself, but to make my life miserable - or at least extremely uncomfortable. That’s just rude, you thief! Now give me back my bladder! Don’t you know I need that thing - desperately? It’s bad enough little Thomas kept squishing it, but then you up and remove it. Do you have any idea how many times I go to the bathroom now? I can’t get anything else done - you know, like eat, sleep, work, read and write. Note I have a substantial reward available for your capture and subsequent conviction for bladder thievery. It's big enough your mother couldn't resist. I looked, and there’s no statute of limitations, so it’s definitely worth your while to come forward - with bladder in hand and undamaged - now. I may be gracious and not press charges. Maybe. |
letgocling  wrote today about how she wanted to write an entry for the last few days, but could think of nothing to say. Same here, and I'm equally as frustrated.I have the desire, but none of the motivation - or the words. I wrote one longhand yesterday intending to add it later, but my desire to hang out in front of my computer still holds little to no appeal. How am I supposed to complete my book proposal if I don’t sit my tush down and do it? I can’t do it longhand, that’s for certain, because my correspondence with Winsun is by email only. Anyone want to be my secretary for the next six weeks transcribing all my longhand writing into Word? I'll pay you very little! I gave myself eight weeks to complete the proposal. Since I’m the queen of procrastination, I need deadlines if I am to finish anything. I’ve wasted two weeks so far, having done nothing other than reread my favorite writing books. I’m not even done with those! Knowing me, though, I will likely wait until the last week before I finally tackle the thing, and no one will be able to talk to me without getting snapped at until I’m done. I have some good news though. Our satellite TV is busted, and has been for four days now. We have to wait a week before the new unit arrives. Why is that good news? I won’t waste even more time zoning in front of the television. It’s been nice, the silence of the television. I’m reading more (just not the books I’m supposed to) and spending more quality time with Dave. Aside: He returned from his hunting trip on Sunday, two days early, because his other hunting buddies had to be at work on Monday. It’s neither wise nor fun to hunt alone so far from home. Though none of them bagged a deer, they had fun apparently. No interesting stories, though, darn it. Back on subject: Dave and I have been bantering whether or not to get rid of the television when Thomas is born. We don’t want to end up using it as a babysitter. When I grew up, my fondest memories were in the board and card games we played together as a family or with friends, the books I read, and the games we made up both inside and out of doors. None of those memories included a television. Dave’s childhood didn’t include a television after President Nixon’s resignation speech. Dave’s dad is a staunch Democrat and liberal (I love him anyway). Nixon’s resignation was like a gift from God for him. Not halfway through the speech, the television blew. Lew scrambled trying to fix it, but to no avail. He took it as an omen, and refused to buy another one until long after all his children moved out of the house. Though not liking it at the time, Dave decided his childhood was richer for the lack of television. He read almost every book in the public library, and he and his brothers grew close (still are), because they spent so much time together. |
| letgocling correctly answered my previous question, so she received 500 GPs. Good job! Lt. General Russell Honore, in charge of the National Guard in New Orleans held a press conference to give evacuation instructions during hurricane Rita. Instead the reporters kept pestering him about Hurricane Katrina. Having enough, he told reporters they were stuck on stupid, and would not answer any questions unless they pertained to Rita. You can watch the video on YouTube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QVBY_SqzJtI It's quite humorous. |
| Dave and I married while in college. We had originally decided to wait until after college, but after a year, we asked ourselves, “Why?” Neither one of us doubted we would marry, so what was the point of waiting? We married in May, right after the year ended. Three days later we left for our prospective summer jobs - his in Denver, and mine in Alamosa, both 250 miles away from home in Trinidad, Colorado. We actually had our honeymoon prior to our wedding (we went to the Justice of the Peace), and had our reception party three months later in August right before school started. Some thought we weren’t close because we separated so soon after we married. I tell you, even though we both came home during the weekends, the first two weeks without him were tougher than I expected. I cried myself to sleep every night I missed him so much. Dave left yesterday for a 4-day deer hunting trip in the Badlands with three or four others. As he packed, I tried not to cry. I wondered if my hormones were going a little wacky, because last year when he went I wasn’t so emotional about it. After he left, I did cry for a minute. I also didn’t sleep well. I woke up at least once an hour. It’s not that I think something bad will happen; I just miss him. You’d think after 15 years of marriage I’d be sick of him and look forward to the times he’s not around. I’m glad I miss him, though. It means I still like having him around and enjoy our closeness. We’re friends as much as husband and wife. I intend to take advantage of his time away, though. Sorry, no parties - unless you consider cleaning the house party time. I like cleaning when no one else is around. It’s not that they get in the way, I simply like being alone when I clean. It so needs it! Rufus is a shedding machine. With all of her hair, my hardwood floors are starting to look carpeted. I don’t have dust bunnies, I have dust dogs! letgocling received terrific news yesterday, so please go read ""We have accepted ...""  !Trivia question for you, and 500 GPs to the first who answers correctly: Who coined the phrase “Stuck on stupid?” |
| I always prided my intelligence - yep even flaunted it at times. Sure, many millions exceed my IQ (I'm not that egotistical), but I still like to think I have an above average mind. Until another human decided to take up residence in my belly and suck it all away. Even worse, other moms have informed me I won't get it back. I'm stuck on stupid, and forever will be! At the very least I'll make people laugh at my newfound ineptitude. I talked to letgocling earlier about this and said, "Perhaps I'll be so stupid and oblivious, I'll be blissfully happy for the rest of my life."I feel the little succubus more every day as he grows bigger and stronger. I can’t tell if he’s kicking, punching or merely rolling around, though. I’m super eager to finally distinguish between his legs, arms and other parts. Still, I’m enjoying the little movements, because once he grows too big for my belly I won’t appreciate him punching my liver, kicking my bladder and squeezing underneath my ribs. I’d like to write more, but I done used up my last semi-intelligent brain cell . . . |
| In my previous entry, Thomas commented about my view of God. Other people have made the same observation: I humanize God. I describe him sometimes as angry, jealous, frustrated, and saddened to name a few, thereby bringing him down to our level. “Is not God above all our frailties?” they asked me. The problem I have with that is we sometimes go on the assumption that anger, jealousy, et al, are frailties. I suggest they’re not - in and of themselves. It’s what we do with our emotions that can twist them into vices. God does not have that problem. Besides, God humanized himself; both the Old and New Testaments are replete with examples of God’s anger, jealousy, frustration, sadness, even despair and terror. I’ve written about this before, so if you have the time, here are three entries I wrote in my last journal that best explain how and why I see God the way I do: From "God's love and points to view" :Does God love us? According to a little five year old girl named Anna, God does not. The following is from a little treasure I found in Grandma Wood’s bookcase entitled “Mister God, This is Anna.” “Flynn, Mister God doesn’t love us.” [Anna] hesitated. “He doesn’t really, you know, only people can love. I love Bossy, but Bossy don’t love me. I love the pollywogs, but they don’t love me. I love you, Flynn, and you love me, don’t you?” I tightened my arm about her. “You love me because you are people. I love Mister God truly, but he don’t love me.” It sounded to me like a death knell. “Damn and blast,” I thought. “Why does this have to happen to people? Now she’s lost everything.” But I was wrong. She had got both feet planted firmly on the next stepping stone. “No,” she went on, “no, he don’t love me, not like you do, it’s different, it’s millions of times bigger.” I must have made some movement or noise, for she levered herself and sat on her haunches and giggled. Then she launched herself at me and undid my little pang of hurt, cut out the useless spark of jealousy with the delicate sureness of a surgeon. “Flynn, you can love better than any people that ever was, and so can I, can’t I? But Mister God is different. You see, Flynn, people can only love outside and can only kiss outside, but Mister God can love you right inside, and Mister God can kiss you right inside, so it’s different. Mister God ain’t like us; we are a little bit like Mister God, but not much yet.” It seemed to me to reduce itself to the fact that we were like God because of some similarities, but God was not like us because of our differences. Her inner fires had refined her ideas, and like some alchemist she had turned lead into gold. Gone were all the human definitions of God, like Goodness, Mercy, Love and Justice, for these were merely props to describe the indescribable. “You see, Flynn, Mister God is different from us because he can finish things and we can’t. I can’t finish loving you because I shall be dead millions of years before I can finish, but Mister God can finish loving you, and so it’s not the same kind of love, is it? Even Mister Jether’s [Anna’s name for Jesus] love is not the same as Mister God’s because he only came here to make us remember.” The first salvo was enough for me; it all needed a bit of thinking about, but I wasn’t going to be spared the rest of her artillery. “Flynn, why do people have fights and wars and things?” I explained to the best of my ability. “Flynn, what is the word for when you see it in a different way?” After a minute or two of scrambling about, the precise phrase she wanted was dredged out of me, the phrase point of view. “Flynn, that’s the difference. You see, everyone has got a point of view, but Mister God hasn’t. Mister God has points to view.” At this moment, my one desire was to get up and go for a long, long walk. What was this child up to? What had she done? In the first place, God could finish things off, I couldn’t. I’ll accept that, but what did it mean? It seemed to me that she had taken the whole idea of God outside the limitation of time and placed him firmly in the realm of eternity. What about this difference between a point of view and points to view? This stumped me, but a little further questioning cleared up the mystery. Points to view was a clumsy term. She meant viewing points. The second salvo had been fired. Humanity in general had an infinite number of points of view, whereas Mister God had an infinite number of viewing points. When I put it to her this way and asked her if that was what she meant, she nodded her agreement and then waited to see if I enjoyed the taste. Let me see now. Humanity has an infinite number of points of view. God has an infinite number of viewing points. That means that - God is everywhere. I jumped. Anna burst into peals of laughter. “You see,” she said, “you see?” I did, too. “There’s another way that Mister God is different.” We obviously hadn’t finished yet. “Mister God can know things and people from the inside, too. We only know them from the outside, don’t we? So you see, Flynn, people can’t talk about Mister God from the outside; you can only talk about God from the inside of him.” Interesting, isn’t it? I had to mull it over for a bit. While God sees everything from every known and unknown perspective, I see things from at best three or four, and that’s only if I search very, very hard. In the meantime, I miss other points of view equally, if not more important. This knowledge gives me great pause when something happens involving other people. I may be right from standing over here, but another person standing opposite of me holds a piece of knowledge, a perspective, that forces me to move - if I'm smart enough to take that knowledge. I’ve been moved. To silence and to humility. From "Incomprehensible Invitations" :I at first thought, “What the hell? How is it I keep attracting all this controversy; all these heated religious discussions where harsh words like ‘blasphemy’ get bantered about? All I’m doing is talking about my faith! Sheesh. I don’t claim to know everything; I’m certainly not (intentionally) preaching, pounding my blog page with my electronic Bible and screaming ‘Thou shalts’ and ‘Thou shalt nots or else.’” Then I had an “Ah ha!” moment. By the mere mention of God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit, the Trinity (not in the Bible, by the way  ), faith, religion, and scripture on a public forum, it’s opening the door wide to all those with often such disparate points of view, I’m left beyond confused. Should I really be stunned and overwhelmed by the passions of others when it comes to their faith?That being said, dear God what a gift! I can’t think of a better way to discover more about God than by discussing and listening to others who share the same desire. God wants us to be challenged, to question our preconceived notions, and scrutinize our faith, sometimes to the point we think we have none. That’s the only way we grow closer to Him. We are but finite humans, using a paltry 10% of our 8 pound brains trying to grasp at the ungraspable, to understand the inconceivable, and to encompass that which the entire universe is but the point of a pin in comparison. Because we can’t understand all God is, He gives us tiny glimpses – bread crumbs if you will – to lead us in the direction He wants us to go. Anything more we couldn’t take. I’ve been filled with the Holy Spirit, so full I begged Him to leave because I felt as though every cell in my body would explode. I know that sensation couldn’t have been a thimbleful of God’s being. Thank God, because anything more would have likely killed me. Is it any wonder then, when we disagree over who or what God is? We each see only a minuscule part, and more often than not from a different angle as everyone else. I go back to my entry on this very subject a few weeks ago: "God's love and points to view" . Every new piece I find or is given to me only makes God that much more incomprehensible. I’m less inclined to “put Him in a box” the more I learn. One thing about God hasn’t changed, however, and never will: He loves us and wants us near Him, loving Him in return. From "God is a Simpleton" :As I said in my last entry, God is far beyond what any one of us can comprehend. Yet, with Him also being about the impossible, could He not then choose to become as simple, or as small as He wants, such as a burning bush, a whisper in a wind, or a human being to teach and suffer death so we won’t have to? I thought of this after David McClain commented in my last entry: I am a simple man and not one given to deep introspective thought. I simply hold to some basic truths in my life.God is. I know this because I feel him every time I am rocked by life's storms. He is there to quiet my racing heart and still my fear. I really can't worry about what others believe or not believe...that is for them to figure out for themselves. For me....God is. I am content. I love that. I wrote back saying I wish I could be like him more. I can never be satisfied. I’m always seeking, tripping and falling many times along the way. I wouldn’t be surprised if I die stumbling over something. I’ve always said, “God is wherever you find Him.” Perhaps you saw God in your child’s first toothless, shiny-with-slobber grin, in the blinking, yellowish-green flight of a firefly, or in the astonishing complexity of a fingerprint. Since God wants nothing more than to have a loving relationship with all His children, He can become as small as He likes. Some might say that point of view puts God in a box. To start, perhaps, but though we see Him at first in a small thing, He doesn’t stay there. The closer our relationship to Him, the bigger He gets. |
| What is it about using lines of songs for my titles lately? How is it a song I haven't heard in years pops into my head and won't leave? Can you explain why the blue of my last entry shows up only in the title on my computer at work, but the title and the text below it shows up as it's supposed to on my computer at home? How does it look on your screen? In one of our many conversations last weekend, my sister, Margaret, and I talked about the necessity of interacting with other people. We’re not meant to be alone all the time, because we will go insane. One benefit of being around others is their ability to see things we miss - especially about ourselves. I want to highlight two comments Nada left in my blog since I started discussing my pregnancy:From "My New Companions" : Wow Viv...may I point out that motherhood is mellowing you? Soo adorable, and enjoy the bonuses now!From "Counting Dollars" : Viv, surely you are not questioning how to just believe anymore. God has blessed you in so many ways. So wonderful to witness your happiness now!I admit to sensing a change - a certain calmness I’ve rarely felt before, especially not for any great length of time. I wondered at that at first, even considering if I had set my faith aside because my mind was so caught up in my pregnancy. I felt a little like Abraham, how he loved Isaac so much, God tested him to see if the love of his son exceeded is love of God. Had I reached a point where my child means more to me than God? After mulling over Nada ’s comments, I realized I didn’t set my faith aside at all, but instead grew more comfortable with it.There’s also an added element: Life isn’t just about me anymore. I can’t worry about the nuances and small shadows of my life and my faith, because there’s a helpless human I now have responsibility for. He needs the focus and attention I once used for the little things that in the end matter so little. I still talk to God all the time, perhaps not as much as I should or need to, but I’m not sweating it, either. I still want my faith and relationship to grow stronger, but I’m not pushing it to the point of stress. When God wants to teach me something, he’ll let me know. It’s a strange, but ultimately freeing to know God walks with me, and is ever-attentive even when I don’t feel him near. Without any conscious effort, I now trust him more with what I can’t control. Perhaps I learned a little patience after all - both with myself and with God. That’s not to say I won’t have trials and tribulations, but that’s in the future. Jesus spoke at length more than once the importance of not worrying, and living in the moment. It only took me 38 years, but I now understand why. Too busy worrying about future and past what-ifs, we can’t enjoy God’s gift of the Now. =========================================== Many times I’ll write an entry a day before posting it. As a consequence, I later have to either change it or add to it later because something happened or changed. Today’s entry is no exception. I had another doctor’s appointment and ultrasound this morning. My mom met me at home then we drove separate cars to the clinic, and we met Dave there. We had a few minutes to chat before we left the house, and Mom noted also how calm I am. Not only is it because of the reasons I noted above, but being pregnant is a natural progression of life, much like breathing. While I’m so looking forward to meeting the little one, the pregnancy part - especially since it’s progressing normally - is not something to be anxious or excited over. Even though I’m feeling Thomas, and seen much of him in now three ultrasounds, he’s still an abstraction. Seeing him, touching him, and hearing him once he’s born, however, I know will change me in a way I can't imagine or describe. I told Dave the other day I did hope Thomas would perform during the ultrasound. I couldn’t get over the first time watching him move around, and I wanted Mom to see that as well. He didn’t disappoint. At one point he kicked hard, and I felt that. The rest of the time, though he moved a lot, I didn’t feel much of it. He’s still too small, yet. The technician measured his spine, his skull, brain, his little bladder, stomach, arms and legs. We saw not only his heart beating, but all four chambers of his heart working. Now that was neat! Mom was as awed as I hoped she would be. Thomas weighs a mere 12 ounces, so now I call him my little Pop Can. Afterwards I met with the doctor. I had a few concerns, such as carrying the baby so low and some aches and pains in my lower abdomen. He said not to worry about either. Carrying a baby low is typical, and the aches and pains are the normal part of the uterus expanding. In short, everything is proceeding as it should, both for me and the baby. |
| Good day! I hope all is well with you. We had much fun on our little vacation. The trip up was uneventful, though I traveled better than expected. An answer to a prayer, that. I prayed I wouldn’t be miserable, and it ended up quite the opposite. Perhaps because the seats were better designed than I’m used to, or God decided to give me a break. Either way, I’m thankful. It rained mostly through South Dakota and parts of Wyoming, but not so bad as to make driving difficult. We saw loads of antelope and at one point came close to running over a flock of turkeys. Rufus traveled very well. She had plenty of room in the back, and slept most of the way. I didn’t need a whole lot of breaks, but still stopped every few hours. We made the 690 miles in about 12½ hours. As for the weekend, we didn’t do much more than visit. Fine by me. I didn’t end up a gasping pile of goo, thank goodness. In fact, other than chapped lips and cracking cuticles on my fingers from the dry air, I did really well. I guess my lung capacity didn’t shrink as much as I feared. My sister and her husband live close to a small river named the Michigan. A creek by North Dakota standards - only about five feet wide and on average two feet deep. Still, it was enough for Rufus to have oodles of fun playing in it and fetching sticks for Dave. Sorry, no pictures. I brought my camera with, but kept forgetting I had it. That was one thing the lack of air did to me - stupidity. So many times I forgot simple words (cracking everyone up more than once as I struggled to speak), and walked around like some kind of zombie. I provided much amusement for all, I’m sure. We went to the local museum, and for a small town, it was impressive. 27 rooms, three floors, and over 200 years of history to peruse through. Most of it, like most small-town museums, was donated by local families who have lived there since the 1700s. That’s a long time by American standards. We decided in order to see it all, we’d have to go at least three more times. On our way back, Dave and I stopped at the Laramie Prison Museum. That was a bit of a disappointment. It was a small prison, and simply didn’t have enough history to make it all that interesting. I told my sister when she asked about it last night it’s not worth taking a special trip to see it, but they should stop by if they happen to drive by and have an hour or so to kill. Since we stopped at the museum, and otherwise took our time, we arrived home at about 9:30 last night. I brought in a few things, then went to bed. What is it about driving long distances that wear a person out? Not having used a computer for four days I found 29 emails in my email. One to my utmost surprise - and not a little trepidation - was from Winsun Literary Agency. I admit I didn’t open it for a few minutes. In short, they had a few minor editing suggestions, and afterwards want my book proposal. Looks like I have some serious work ahead of me! I suppose it’s a good thing I didn’t edit much on my other manuscript this weekend. It’ll have to be set aside again for a while. I did manage to read parts of “Self Editing for Fiction Writers”, but not much more. Which reminds me! Thank you Michael Wonch for the merit badge!:![Merit Badge in Appreciation
[Click For More Info]
For the recommendation of a GREAT self-editing book. Really, saved my...um...tush. I OWE YA!!](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/general-Appreciation-1985.gif) I emailed him back saying I’d recount the story about how and why I bought it. I am equally appreciative of the person who recommended this book to me - though the circumstances were quite different. I’ve written about this before in my publication journal, "Ah, the pitfalls of seeking publication." , but instead of making you go there, here’s the entry, written - wow, almost two years ago now - 9/18/05:Rejection #4 This was the hardest rejection yet, but the most useful. After doing much research I thought I found the perfect agent for my book and bookmarked him, both in my "Christian Writers' Market Guide" and his website. I then saved up my money to attend the Christian Writer's Guild "Writing for the Soul" conference. There I met with three agents to plug my book. Only one seemed genuinely interested, but she said they take agented submissions only. She, along with the other two recommended only one agent to me. I figured it was a sign from God, because all three recommended the one agent I already bookmarked. So after much more editing and putting together my proposal, I sent it off. Again, I figured I was a lock in getting accepted. My SASE came in the mail. I knew by how thin it was it contained only one sheet of paper. I only saw one word when I opened it up: "Unfortunately . . ." After that, all the other words flowed into the center of the page and morphed into one single word, "REJECTED!" Teary-eyed, I had my husband read it. "This is actually a really good letter," he said, "But I know you don't see it." I burst into tears and he hugged me. "It just hurts to know I'm not ready yet." I sobbed. Two weeks later, I read the letter again, this time with a less emotional eye. What a great letter! The agent liked my premise and said, "You have a really good story concept," but (I hate that word as much as 'unfortunately' and 'sorry') "we feel that the writing just doesn't measure up to what is on the market today." It didn't end there. He pointed out two examples in my manuscript that didn't meet his standard of excellence (I should have expected this since he was an editor for 15 years prior to becoming an agent). He then went on to recommend the book, "Self Editing for Fiction Writers" by Browne and King. I purchased the book and read it in four days. Afterwards, did I know what the agent meant. My writing indeed . . . sucked! I was actually embarrassed for sending it out when I did. But the whole experience was the best thing that could have happened. The first thing I did was delete the first three pages of my manuscript and continued on through to the end. I cut out so much superfluous material, I had enough room to add three more scenes, and still ended up 4000 words fewer than when I started. Whether or not my manuscript is ready for publication, I don't know. But until I send it out again, I won't know. After I finish “Self Editing for Fiction Writers” I will tackle my second-favorite writing book. It’s “Write Tight: How to Keep Your Prose Sharp, Focused and Concise” by William Brohaugh. As the title suggests, it gives excellent advice on how to tighten writing, both fiction and nonfiction. It’s also a fun read, because some of the examples he gives on flabby writing are hilarious. I have but one other book in my Essential Writing Library: “Elements of Style” by Shrunk & White. Most of you are familiar with that one. If not, it outlines the common mistakes every writer makes as far as word usage and grammar. Every editor and writer I’ve talked to and read recommend this small reference above all others. I will finish all three before I tackle my manuscript once again. As for my proposal, I asked Winsun for more information on what they expect such as the length of the synopsis, how to structure my bio and introduction of the book, and if they’ll want the entire manuscript or the first several chapters. I have most of those done but I’ll have to rewrite them, both because they need it, and to meet Winsun’s criteria. Because I'll be busy with my book, and recuperating from my mini-vacation, I can't promise when I'll be able to catch up with the rest of you. |
| Early tomorrow morning Dave, Rufus and I leave to visit my sister in Colorado. I learned a few things that will make this trip a bit of a challenge. Driving the 60 miles to Linton on Monday, after a mere 45 minutes, I was ready to get out and take a walk. Sitting for that long was very uncomfortable. And here I'm planning a 12 hour trip - one way! It may take us quite a bit longer, as I know I'll make Dave stop every two hours or so. I'm really glad we have the Cherokee now. Even with Rufus and 4 days worth of gear, if I lay down the back seats I will have lots of room to spread out if need be. Also! With my sudden lack of lung space, how will my body react going from an elevation of 1800 feet to 8900? Yep, I bet I'll be a pile of gasping goo the first day. I'll take it easy and drink loads of water, so I don't anticipate too much trouble. Then again, with as much water as I'll be drinking, we may need to stop more frequently. I printed out one of my novels, and during the trip I'll bleed all over it with edits. I started on it yesterday, and though it needs lots of work, it's not horrible for a first draft. I may take along my copy of "Self-Editing for Fiction Writers" by Browne and King as a refresher, and to further get me into editor mode. We plan on returning Monday night, so until then, have a great one - whatever that 'one' may be! ADDENDUM I almost forgot!! welkerdeb gifted me one of them pumpkins, but I'm having trouble coming up with a saying to add to it. You have four days to wow me with your ideas!! Thanks muchly! |
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