So. I found those credit cards in less than five minutes, thank you very much. I guess the improvements in organization have really made a difference. This is a much needed boost of encouragement to keep going and finish making the house perfectly organized and easy to maintain before I go back to work. Assuming of course that I go back to work. Soon.
I found the cards, got online, registered and activated the new account number, and paid the $6.82 full balance. The due date wasn't until April 6th, but I couldn't see that until registering the new account number. So all was well. Until, I went on to pay the other credit cards.
And there on a differend card was a charge for Macafee. $42.39. We haven't had Macafee in over a year. Thus began the long drawn out process of calling and explaining to someone in India that I do NOT have a Macafee account, and someone has used our account number.
It turned out to not be fraudulent. It was a mistake, but not a case of stolen credit card numbers. They put through some sort of "auto re-enrollment" for our service that ended over a year ago. Nobody could explain how or why this happened. They seemed rather puzzled by it. But it's fixed. And now, at 11 am, I can go start the millions of other things I wanted to have done by lunchtime.
Please let me go back to work soon. This staying at home stuff sucks. If I had a baby here, it might be a whole different story. But it's just me and the dog. And a whole lot of organization to do. And floors to clean. Etc. etc. Today is also cat box day. See you all tomorrow.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Race against the clock.
And for today's drama, we have a credit card issue. I hate drama. And being that I went through the whole identity theft thing years ago and know the panic and fear involved, I really hate any issues relating to credit cards, bank accounts, etc.
It really all starts a few weeks ago when I casually opened an envelope containing two new Citibank cards, replacing our old ones. I thought these were just cards to replace ours when they expired. This happens on a fairly regular basis, and I thought nothing of it. I stuck them in the office, somewhere, and forgot about it.
About a month later, I got a call from a weird number with a 904 areea code. I ignored the call, googled the number, and it was Citibank's fraud line. Panic swept over me with a blanket of paralyzing fear. I called the fraud line back, and while looking at my account summary online, asked why they'd called. The woman was eligible for nomination to one of those Darwin awards. Completely stupid. She eventually said, "well, we're contacting you today because you have a $6 balance." WTF? I asked if the balance of $6 that she saw there showed past due. It did not. I informed her that I was looking at my account on the screen at that moment and it showed a zero balance. She was confused, fumbled around a bit, and I told her I'd call the 800 number and see what I could find. She was happy with this idea because it offered her a chance to avoid anyone expecting her to really think and so advanced problem solving, like read notes on an account.
I called the 800 number. By this time, I'd also noticed that the main screen online also told me that my card had been called in lost or stolen. Not so, I thought. It's in my hand. The guy who answered was far more competent than the looney in the fraud department, and he read through the notes, found out why it was hotlisted, and explained it had nothing to do with me, per se. They had a group of hundreds of accounts that were somehow "compromised." Coincidentally, this same thing just happened to our debit mastercards at the bank.
But here's the thing. Because I'm so responsible and organized and have kept the office sparkling since I last cleaned and organized it, I have no idea where I put the new cards. And, the payment (which apparently is $6 total) is due on either the 3rd, 4th, 5th, or 6th. It always falls on one of those days. Today is the 2nd. If that bill is due on the third, and I don't get the new account number registered today, it will be late. I'm never late. I'm disorganized as heck these days, but I'm never late.
So today, I'm on a quest to dig up those darn cards that I stuck somewhere for safe keeping. Wish me luck.
It really all starts a few weeks ago when I casually opened an envelope containing two new Citibank cards, replacing our old ones. I thought these were just cards to replace ours when they expired. This happens on a fairly regular basis, and I thought nothing of it. I stuck them in the office, somewhere, and forgot about it.
About a month later, I got a call from a weird number with a 904 areea code. I ignored the call, googled the number, and it was Citibank's fraud line. Panic swept over me with a blanket of paralyzing fear. I called the fraud line back, and while looking at my account summary online, asked why they'd called. The woman was eligible for nomination to one of those Darwin awards. Completely stupid. She eventually said, "well, we're contacting you today because you have a $6 balance." WTF? I asked if the balance of $6 that she saw there showed past due. It did not. I informed her that I was looking at my account on the screen at that moment and it showed a zero balance. She was confused, fumbled around a bit, and I told her I'd call the 800 number and see what I could find. She was happy with this idea because it offered her a chance to avoid anyone expecting her to really think and so advanced problem solving, like read notes on an account.
I called the 800 number. By this time, I'd also noticed that the main screen online also told me that my card had been called in lost or stolen. Not so, I thought. It's in my hand. The guy who answered was far more competent than the looney in the fraud department, and he read through the notes, found out why it was hotlisted, and explained it had nothing to do with me, per se. They had a group of hundreds of accounts that were somehow "compromised." Coincidentally, this same thing just happened to our debit mastercards at the bank.
But here's the thing. Because I'm so responsible and organized and have kept the office sparkling since I last cleaned and organized it, I have no idea where I put the new cards. And, the payment (which apparently is $6 total) is due on either the 3rd, 4th, 5th, or 6th. It always falls on one of those days. Today is the 2nd. If that bill is due on the third, and I don't get the new account number registered today, it will be late. I'm never late. I'm disorganized as heck these days, but I'm never late.
So today, I'm on a quest to dig up those darn cards that I stuck somewhere for safe keeping. Wish me luck.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Wordless Wednesday
Okay, I know this is supposed to be wordless, and these here are words, but I don't want y'all to think I'm loopy and forgetful when in fact I'm just behind in life. I was supposed to put pictures up last Wednesday for Amy, so she'd feel better about her bird's nest. Those pictures I spoke of? They live on an external hard drive, where all my photos should live. Well, life gets in the way. I haven't pulled out the external hard drive to back up the year of photos on this computer much less to pull the pictures I had in mind to show Amy. Next week.... Hopefully....
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Double edged sword
Ever get yourself into a situation where you are damned if you do and damned if you don't?
We're in one now. It's a small one - not a very big deal, but yet, we're in one.
We were a two-dog household. Our chow-chow came up to Michigan shortly after Aaron did in 2002. He was fine being the only dog. But we had to go and mess everything up, and get a second dog in 2005. Mackenzie. This ridiculous idea was discussed that we should be a two-dog household. I was younger and stupider then. I had no firm grasp on how reality dictates that we all have limitations to our capabilities.
Anyhow. Hurley, our beloved Chow, passed away last October. He was 16 years old. This is ancient for a Chow. Evidence of a good long life.
The addition that hit the household in 2005 has not recovered. We gave her weeks, then we gave her months. She's a Shepherd. A herding dog. Who had never ever to our knowledge been the "only dog" in her household before Hurley died. If we leave for too long? And she's home alone? Diarrhea for four days minimum. If we leave twice for too long in that four days? Diarrhea in the house.
She's 140 lbs. Imagine the mess.
There are so many things that have come to pass and given way to an easier, less stressful lifestyle. We no longer have to watch Kenz when she goes outside, despite having no fence. She never leaves. In fact, if you forget about her out there, which I often do, she'll whine at the back door and eventually make her way around to the front, hoping you might notice her there.
She has no desire to wander, only to be where her humans are.
And here's the problem. I need to go back to work the minute someone gives me an offer. I'm hoping to go back to school in May for a doctorate. Aaron works full time, of course, and also goes to school full time. In a matter of months, we'll be in a situation where we both have 14+ hour days, with stops home in the middle of work and school, and every time we come home, there will be a mess to deal with. Also, our dog will be miserable.
Sounds like an easy problem to solve, right? Get her a friend. I wish it were that easy. We are finally in an amazing place, where our one single dog fits in the back fo the jeep. We not only can run off and go camping, but we have extra seats in the vehicle too, for friends, or stuff, or eventually a carseat. Another dog changes all of that. We may have no choice but to put a fence up, stat. And that costs money. Food costs money. Vet bills cost money.
So we either take the financial risk and get another dog, or we take the risk of making our poor dog more lonely and more miserable and ruining our laminate floors. Getting rid of Mackenzie is not an option. She's family, and we love her.
Of the choices we have it seems best to get another dog, although I use the term "best" loosely. And, if we are going to introduce a new dog into the family, best to do it while someone is home all the time. How would we possibly change direction and bring home a dog when we are both working and going to school? That wouldn't work. We'd be in a world of trouble if we got to that point and didn't have things resolved somehow.
So over the weeks we've discussed that a dog will find us when the time is right. Someone who needs a home and fits into our family.
We went to the St. Patty's Day parade downtown, and Aaron was enamored by the Wolfhounds. He used to have one named Bob. A mix, actually, but quite a bit of him was Wolfhound. He really did have a fight with a real wolf at one time, and won, but that is a story for another day. Bob was a great dog. One of Aaron's favorites for sure.
So Aaron got home from the parade and spent some time over the following days reading up on the breed and whether or not there is a rescue spot locally that takes them when they need to be adopted out to new homes. There were none locally. No special rescues he could find. And, they only live approximately 8 years. The loss of Hurley is so fresh still that the idea of only having a dog for half the time that he had Hurley is inconceivable. The Wolfhound idea was put to rest.
And then, out of nowhere, an e-mail came in about a dog that needed a home. We get lots of these, and try to facilitate and pass this info around as much as possible. But this one sounded really interesting. This dog is a runner. He has his own champion chip. His owner runs 10K races with him. It's a male, which works, because we have a very alpha female, and another female would surely be problematic.
This dog is about Hurley's size.
And, it's a wolfhound mix. It has the same wirey fur and frisky look to him that Bob had.
He's been to puppy school and graduated. Fully trained. Knows over 25 commands. Two and a half years old - so he's still got a bit of puppy in him and will be resilient to the move.
Aaron brought it up somewhat gently. I thought it would pass. But he talked about the dog for two and a half days. I finally called. We're going to meet him today. His humans are moving back to Europe, and this guy can't go with them. He's free to a good home.
We're packing Mackenzie up in the Jeep and taking her out to meet this dog. They don't live close. We're all going to have a nice walk and see how the two animals interact. I have a feeling it will go very well, and we'll end up with this dog. It's a risk. But so is leaving Mackenzie alone and going back to work eventually. If the dog works out I'll just have to pray extra hard that I get a job sooner than later. Or, even better, that the darn condo sells in the next couple months. I can't ever remember having this much to pray for at one time. It's exhausting.
We're in one now. It's a small one - not a very big deal, but yet, we're in one.
We were a two-dog household. Our chow-chow came up to Michigan shortly after Aaron did in 2002. He was fine being the only dog. But we had to go and mess everything up, and get a second dog in 2005. Mackenzie. This ridiculous idea was discussed that we should be a two-dog household. I was younger and stupider then. I had no firm grasp on how reality dictates that we all have limitations to our capabilities.
Anyhow. Hurley, our beloved Chow, passed away last October. He was 16 years old. This is ancient for a Chow. Evidence of a good long life.
The addition that hit the household in 2005 has not recovered. We gave her weeks, then we gave her months. She's a Shepherd. A herding dog. Who had never ever to our knowledge been the "only dog" in her household before Hurley died. If we leave for too long? And she's home alone? Diarrhea for four days minimum. If we leave twice for too long in that four days? Diarrhea in the house.
She's 140 lbs. Imagine the mess.
There are so many things that have come to pass and given way to an easier, less stressful lifestyle. We no longer have to watch Kenz when she goes outside, despite having no fence. She never leaves. In fact, if you forget about her out there, which I often do, she'll whine at the back door and eventually make her way around to the front, hoping you might notice her there.
She has no desire to wander, only to be where her humans are.
And here's the problem. I need to go back to work the minute someone gives me an offer. I'm hoping to go back to school in May for a doctorate. Aaron works full time, of course, and also goes to school full time. In a matter of months, we'll be in a situation where we both have 14+ hour days, with stops home in the middle of work and school, and every time we come home, there will be a mess to deal with. Also, our dog will be miserable.
Sounds like an easy problem to solve, right? Get her a friend. I wish it were that easy. We are finally in an amazing place, where our one single dog fits in the back fo the jeep. We not only can run off and go camping, but we have extra seats in the vehicle too, for friends, or stuff, or eventually a carseat. Another dog changes all of that. We may have no choice but to put a fence up, stat. And that costs money. Food costs money. Vet bills cost money.
So we either take the financial risk and get another dog, or we take the risk of making our poor dog more lonely and more miserable and ruining our laminate floors. Getting rid of Mackenzie is not an option. She's family, and we love her.
Of the choices we have it seems best to get another dog, although I use the term "best" loosely. And, if we are going to introduce a new dog into the family, best to do it while someone is home all the time. How would we possibly change direction and bring home a dog when we are both working and going to school? That wouldn't work. We'd be in a world of trouble if we got to that point and didn't have things resolved somehow.
So over the weeks we've discussed that a dog will find us when the time is right. Someone who needs a home and fits into our family.
We went to the St. Patty's Day parade downtown, and Aaron was enamored by the Wolfhounds. He used to have one named Bob. A mix, actually, but quite a bit of him was Wolfhound. He really did have a fight with a real wolf at one time, and won, but that is a story for another day. Bob was a great dog. One of Aaron's favorites for sure.
So Aaron got home from the parade and spent some time over the following days reading up on the breed and whether or not there is a rescue spot locally that takes them when they need to be adopted out to new homes. There were none locally. No special rescues he could find. And, they only live approximately 8 years. The loss of Hurley is so fresh still that the idea of only having a dog for half the time that he had Hurley is inconceivable. The Wolfhound idea was put to rest.
And then, out of nowhere, an e-mail came in about a dog that needed a home. We get lots of these, and try to facilitate and pass this info around as much as possible. But this one sounded really interesting. This dog is a runner. He has his own champion chip. His owner runs 10K races with him. It's a male, which works, because we have a very alpha female, and another female would surely be problematic.
This dog is about Hurley's size.
And, it's a wolfhound mix. It has the same wirey fur and frisky look to him that Bob had.
He's been to puppy school and graduated. Fully trained. Knows over 25 commands. Two and a half years old - so he's still got a bit of puppy in him and will be resilient to the move.
Aaron brought it up somewhat gently. I thought it would pass. But he talked about the dog for two and a half days. I finally called. We're going to meet him today. His humans are moving back to Europe, and this guy can't go with them. He's free to a good home.
We're packing Mackenzie up in the Jeep and taking her out to meet this dog. They don't live close. We're all going to have a nice walk and see how the two animals interact. I have a feeling it will go very well, and we'll end up with this dog. It's a risk. But so is leaving Mackenzie alone and going back to work eventually. If the dog works out I'll just have to pray extra hard that I get a job sooner than later. Or, even better, that the darn condo sells in the next couple months. I can't ever remember having this much to pray for at one time. It's exhausting.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Spring winds of change
A friend said to me yesterday, "you can't save the whole world."
I've heard this before. And each time I've heard it, I've had the same immediate response resonate through my mind. "I'm not trying to save the WHOLE world, just a piece of it." And I moved on thinking that I was just misunderstood.
But I happened to have been reflecting back on much of the past year in particular at the time of this conversation, and all the sacrifice and difficulty that has been caused by many of my efforts to save just a piece of the world were front and center on my mind. And it hit me yesterday. My friend didn't misunderstand anything. Neither had anyone who had come forth with similar messages before her.
When I try to play too many roles for too many people, no matter how hard I've tried, I can't play all of those roles very well at one time. When I was a full time student and full time employee, I missed many family activites. So the role of daughter, sister, grandaughter, neice, etc. suffered. When I'm trying to be a foster parent to a child who's behavior should have landed her out on her bum months and months prior, and the screaming and throwing things and general tantrums make my home miserable for everyone, I'm too drained to be a good wife, or anything else for that matter.
My priorities have always been dictated by who or what needed my attention most urgently. You could call it a "fire fighting" approach. Foster kid melting down? Handle it. Dog whining? Run and let her out. Birthday party in 20 minutes? Run to Target and get a gift and a bag to stick it in. Husband seems like he wants my attention? Run from laundry machine to sit with him awhile, fold towels while I do. This reactive method of living isn't really living. It's just "getting by." It's tiring, and it makes you feel terribly exhausted and unhealthy.
Meanwhile, all the priorities that are important to me but not screamingly urgent never get taken care of. I don't do anything for my church anymore. I hardly visit my grandparents. For years, most dinners came out of a restaurant's kitchen because my reactive state of being finds the shortest path to rectify a problem rather than calmly plan and execute. Believe me, when you take on too much, there is no time to plan meals, grocery shop properly, and cook.
And then there are the PROJECTS! The dozens of projects that I've either wanted to do or signed up to do and I never get to. I told my grandmother I'd redecorate her kitchen years ago. I still haven't done it, but I swear I haven't stopped moving since. I still need to finish unpacking, clean and organize the basement and garage, etc. etc. And of course, there's the whole "getting back in shape" thing that always seems to go by the wayside because there are too many other issues demanding my time.
New priorities. I'm a wife, daughter, sister, granddaugher, neice, neighbor, friend, member of my church, and homeowner. I'm going to try to focus on just that for a bit and see if I can catch up and get things together. This isn't going to be easy. I find myself still checking e-mail three times an hour hoping the kid is okay, and thinking about whether or not to consider fostering someone new soon. But I have to get my life in order again before I can be of much use to anyone.
I have to learn to be a little bit selfish with my time and take better care of myself, and to focus on the tasks that have gone undone for far too long. I'm starting with giving up the computer ENTIRELY for a four day weekend. And when I come back here to this place on Tuesday, I hope I'll be able to say that I've caught up and I'm on track. Then I hope I can stay there, and not continue to take on far too much and struggle.
I've heard this before. And each time I've heard it, I've had the same immediate response resonate through my mind. "I'm not trying to save the WHOLE world, just a piece of it." And I moved on thinking that I was just misunderstood.
But I happened to have been reflecting back on much of the past year in particular at the time of this conversation, and all the sacrifice and difficulty that has been caused by many of my efforts to save just a piece of the world were front and center on my mind. And it hit me yesterday. My friend didn't misunderstand anything. Neither had anyone who had come forth with similar messages before her.
When I try to play too many roles for too many people, no matter how hard I've tried, I can't play all of those roles very well at one time. When I was a full time student and full time employee, I missed many family activites. So the role of daughter, sister, grandaughter, neice, etc. suffered. When I'm trying to be a foster parent to a child who's behavior should have landed her out on her bum months and months prior, and the screaming and throwing things and general tantrums make my home miserable for everyone, I'm too drained to be a good wife, or anything else for that matter.
My priorities have always been dictated by who or what needed my attention most urgently. You could call it a "fire fighting" approach. Foster kid melting down? Handle it. Dog whining? Run and let her out. Birthday party in 20 minutes? Run to Target and get a gift and a bag to stick it in. Husband seems like he wants my attention? Run from laundry machine to sit with him awhile, fold towels while I do. This reactive method of living isn't really living. It's just "getting by." It's tiring, and it makes you feel terribly exhausted and unhealthy.
Meanwhile, all the priorities that are important to me but not screamingly urgent never get taken care of. I don't do anything for my church anymore. I hardly visit my grandparents. For years, most dinners came out of a restaurant's kitchen because my reactive state of being finds the shortest path to rectify a problem rather than calmly plan and execute. Believe me, when you take on too much, there is no time to plan meals, grocery shop properly, and cook.
And then there are the PROJECTS! The dozens of projects that I've either wanted to do or signed up to do and I never get to. I told my grandmother I'd redecorate her kitchen years ago. I still haven't done it, but I swear I haven't stopped moving since. I still need to finish unpacking, clean and organize the basement and garage, etc. etc. And of course, there's the whole "getting back in shape" thing that always seems to go by the wayside because there are too many other issues demanding my time.
New priorities. I'm a wife, daughter, sister, granddaugher, neice, neighbor, friend, member of my church, and homeowner. I'm going to try to focus on just that for a bit and see if I can catch up and get things together. This isn't going to be easy. I find myself still checking e-mail three times an hour hoping the kid is okay, and thinking about whether or not to consider fostering someone new soon. But I have to get my life in order again before I can be of much use to anyone.
I have to learn to be a little bit selfish with my time and take better care of myself, and to focus on the tasks that have gone undone for far too long. I'm starting with giving up the computer ENTIRELY for a four day weekend. And when I come back here to this place on Tuesday, I hope I'll be able to say that I've caught up and I'm on track. Then I hope I can stay there, and not continue to take on far too much and struggle.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Fostering
I was just thinking about a comment from CJ. She mentioned that she "missed fostering." And it got me thinking.
We weren't really fostering.
I mean yes, we have a license, the kid came via the foster system, caseworkers, therapists, licensing teams, and heaven knows who else were in and out of our home constantly. But yet, our situation wasn't a real foster situation.
When we met this kid, she was 16, emotionally underdeveloped, deeply scarred, scared of everything, but sharp as a tack (or so it seemed.) She had a 4.0 GPA, and wanted to go to law school. She and I had so much in common as far as interests go, that it was FUN to work with her. Her situation was so unfair that we had to do something about it. We actually looked into adoption first, even though she'd be an adult in only two more years, because she so obviously needed a family. But we found out quickly that fostering was faster, free to us, and offered her far more support than the adoption system would. Literally, she would LOSE many benefits from adoption. She gets this special tuition incentive plan, certain things covered in her life through Youth in Transition funds, etc. etc. Foster wasn't the intent, it was simply the tool to acheive the means, which was to get her in a safe home.
I didn't deal with any bio parents or visitation. I didn't run her to the DHS office across town on a regular basis. We didn't have any of that, because she's a permanent court ward. There was no fear she'd disappear, because there was really noplace to disappear to, and no parent(s) out there to suddenly get his/her/their crap together and get her "back." She was intended to just become family, settle in, and stay forever. Somedays she wanted that, some days she didn't, and some days she had no idea what she wanted. I can understand some of it. I explained to her before that when you marry into a family? It takes months if not years before you really feel at home there. While she felt at home in our house and with just us, she felt awkward around the whole clan. She felt as if she didn't belong. And that is the theme of her life. She feels as if she doesn't belong anywhere. She was not willing to give it time. One of her biggest and most frequent complaints was that she felt nobody accepted her. Now in fairness, I'm not sure what she expected from anyoen to feel "accepted." Because our families were incredibly gracious to her. Nobody missed giving her a Christmas gift or a hug or an opportunity to be part of whatever was going on.
I wonder about true fostering. About the process of opening your home to a TEMPORARY situation, and caring for an innocent one until he or she can go back home again or forward to a "forever family" that will adopt. Of course the county has already asked us about it now that it's public knowledge we have an empty house. They need help. But I'm not sure about this right now. I'm exhausted, and my life is in shambles. This was way more work than I ever expected. I think we just need a break from everything whether we go back and do anything more with it or not.
We weren't really fostering.
I mean yes, we have a license, the kid came via the foster system, caseworkers, therapists, licensing teams, and heaven knows who else were in and out of our home constantly. But yet, our situation wasn't a real foster situation.
When we met this kid, she was 16, emotionally underdeveloped, deeply scarred, scared of everything, but sharp as a tack (or so it seemed.) She had a 4.0 GPA, and wanted to go to law school. She and I had so much in common as far as interests go, that it was FUN to work with her. Her situation was so unfair that we had to do something about it. We actually looked into adoption first, even though she'd be an adult in only two more years, because she so obviously needed a family. But we found out quickly that fostering was faster, free to us, and offered her far more support than the adoption system would. Literally, she would LOSE many benefits from adoption. She gets this special tuition incentive plan, certain things covered in her life through Youth in Transition funds, etc. etc. Foster wasn't the intent, it was simply the tool to acheive the means, which was to get her in a safe home.
I didn't deal with any bio parents or visitation. I didn't run her to the DHS office across town on a regular basis. We didn't have any of that, because she's a permanent court ward. There was no fear she'd disappear, because there was really noplace to disappear to, and no parent(s) out there to suddenly get his/her/their crap together and get her "back." She was intended to just become family, settle in, and stay forever. Somedays she wanted that, some days she didn't, and some days she had no idea what she wanted. I can understand some of it. I explained to her before that when you marry into a family? It takes months if not years before you really feel at home there. While she felt at home in our house and with just us, she felt awkward around the whole clan. She felt as if she didn't belong. And that is the theme of her life. She feels as if she doesn't belong anywhere. She was not willing to give it time. One of her biggest and most frequent complaints was that she felt nobody accepted her. Now in fairness, I'm not sure what she expected from anyoen to feel "accepted." Because our families were incredibly gracious to her. Nobody missed giving her a Christmas gift or a hug or an opportunity to be part of whatever was going on.
I wonder about true fostering. About the process of opening your home to a TEMPORARY situation, and caring for an innocent one until he or she can go back home again or forward to a "forever family" that will adopt. Of course the county has already asked us about it now that it's public knowledge we have an empty house. They need help. But I'm not sure about this right now. I'm exhausted, and my life is in shambles. This was way more work than I ever expected. I think we just need a break from everything whether we go back and do anything more with it or not.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Makin Babies
No, not us. The Internet. Because Amy shares ideas that are more fun than laundry.
Make your own babies at www.makemebabies.com
Make your own babies at www.makemebabies.com
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