Boxing Day

is on everyone’s calandar, but what is it?  I’m not sure.  Fighting?  Putting decorations back in boxes?  I know that I’ve read about it before, but the information escaped.

There are lots of things I want to write about, but it’s late and Nate is whimpering and will probably want me to come lay down with him.  Christmas was really nice.  At the end of the day, after Willow was asleep, I read this book (from Uncle G) to the big kids by the light of two glowsticks (stocking stuffers) under the boys’ new red bunkbed tent (Santa).  Then, while Sophie terrorized her Papa (something to do with wanting the boy from a frosty the snowman movie??), the boys and I listened to the last cd of this book.  It was one of those sorts of moments that I daydreamed about when I thought of what it would be like to have kids.  (Ahem, except for Sophie’s behavior.)  Why are those so rare?  Is it reality or attitude or selfishness or having too much or too little?  Am I too busy to see them?

Enough words, time for pictures!


there isn’t really supposed to be anything here, but I can’t make it not say "continue reading. . . " which happened a post or two ago, as well.  It happens when I start typing before the page is loaded all the way.  Meaning that my impatience wastes other people’s time, which I hate to do.

I am truly sorry.  How about a joke?

What is a pirate’s favorite letter?


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