April 11, 2002

  • My 7 year old wrote a poem . . .


    muck, muck
    splash
    splash
    funp, fump
    pahm, pam


    fun


    mud


    sing about it.


    We planted seeds, some plants, and a new rose bush yesterday.  It was a beautiful day in Salem, Indiana.  The sun was shining, the birds were singing.  (I stopped in at Darrel's office when we went out to lunch and bummed a book to read this weekend.)  Did I mention we went out to lunch?  And I got a new nightie.  Life was good.  Then this morning, my baby is writing poetry.


    Some people have to drink to feel this high.

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