Travel & Lifestyle Freelance Writer | Market Research Consultant
Went over to Adam and Em’s to watch the final game of the NCAA tournament. We were rooting for Kentucky in support of Randy, so in the last minutes of the game, Mike offers the team a bit of encouragement: “Come on, guys. Score some more of those basketball points!”
Our kids, if we have them, are doomed to be enormous nerds.
I typically scoff when my husband mandates that we purchase the super soft, plush, gentle-enough-for-a-baby’s-bottom toilet paper. But I have to admit that it’s been a lifesaver for my recent hyper congested, blow-my-nose-every-five-minutes affliction.
So here’s a toast (of Emergen-C) to Mike’s tender tushy!
Incriminating evidence our quasi-pet squirrel trying to steal Mike’s underpants:
I guess the first question would be: “Why are Mike’s underpants on the deck?”
Second questions is: “What in the world would a squirrel do with them?”
Mike wore a look of despondency this afternoon when the hand mixer that he found on the side of the road more than five years ago appeared to have died.
But don’t lose any sleep over this travesty because after a bit of fiddling with it, he got it to work again. Whew. Close call.
Alas. I got the message too late …
And here he is looking veeeeery scholarly.
