Correspondence

I get a lot of spam e-mail on my school account. Sometimes...I like to read said spam, especially when the subject line is something like this "ATTENTION HONORABLE BENEFICIARY" because -- well, wouldn't you want to read that??

I read it. And I replied to it, ya know, just to see what would happen. Originally I wanted to post the entire first e-mail here, but it is pretty long...and I don't want to bore you.

Here is the breakdown:

--I have recently come into an inheritance authorized as per our "oral discussion" with the President of Nicaragua.

--The inheritance can be placed on an ATM card for my convenience, all I have to do is send my information to revjohnbrown2008@gmail.com (obviously the government of Nicaragua would be using Gmail for their official correspondence.)

I personally like this little portion of the email "the ATM card payment center has been mandated to issue out ($8,300,000.00) as part payment for this fiscal year 2008. also for your information, you have to stop any further communication with any other person(s) or office(s) to avoid any hitches in receiving your ATM payment." In other words, don't talk to anyone about this.

So I wrote back, informing them of a few things.

1. While accents are undoubtedly charming in person, they come across slightly shady in written format (which obviously, the Government of Nicaragua would never want) so I felt they should work on their English.

2. I have never been in "oral discussion" with the President of Nicaragua, so they must have accidentally mixed me up with someone else.

Imagine my surprise when I received an reply from none other than the Rev. John Brown. This one I will paste for you...

"Attention: Martini Jerry,

I received your email letter in this office stating that i should explan more about this offer before you will proceed to send your information, and i have noted your comment as you stated.

I will like you to give me a call for more explanations, but if you know that you can not call out of your country then try to send me your number so that i will call you immediately.

here is my number +234-703051_5611 call me immediately you get this message or you send your number to me so that i can reach you.
Regards,

Rev. John Brown

Director."

Things to note...at some point I became Martini Jerry. I think I may just keep that new moniker.

Oooh Rev. John Brown wants my number!

Does his number look like a real phone number to you?? Not that I would actually call it mind you.

I'm totally going to write back, I'll keep you posted. This is surprisingly fun for me, any suggestions on things you think I should make the Rev. John Brown aware??

Croquet is STUPID!

Croquet is one of those games that I just don't get(much like bowling, but even bowling is better. And bocce. Bocce is weird, but I would still rather play that than croquet). I don't like it. The whole concept defies logic to me.

You set up tiny little metal gates(do those have a name?) and try to bump a ball through them with a large wooden mallet. Okay...sure, that makes sense...I guess.




But then what is with the rule that allows my brother-in-law to send my ball flying across the yard? And why do I have to come all the way back around the little metal thing if I pass it? Why can't I just send my ball through the other way?


It's not fair I tell you! Injustice! Injustice!


Still...I try. As you can see here...I am still at the beginning, because my first swing only made the ball move about a foot. You can also see that no other balls are anywhere near me. I am always WAY behind.I mean...look at that form! Which part of the swing is that? Doesn't look like a back swing, yet the ball isn't in sight, so it must be...right?
Here Matt is trying to give me so pointers. I don't want pointers. As you can see from my posture. I am such a mope.

Here is what you can't see.

Stop telling me what to do, I can do it on my own!!!!

Only, we both know that I can't, because apparently I was actually born without any kind of hand-eye coordination whatsoever.

I wonder if insurance covers that? It should, because this deficiency is seriously decreasing the quality of my life (haha oookay that's definitely not true).

Mine

I think I would like to tell you a little more about my significant other (by the way how weird is that term? are there insignificant others?).

Matt and I have known each other for over 4 years now, but have only been together for 1 year. He makes me laugh almost every day, but instead of telling you all the mushy details of our relationship, I think I'll just tell you some of the not so mushy things that I love about him.

We can start with this:

D-O-R-K.

He is goofy...and he is(most likely) going to kill me for posting that picture.

I told them to smile...they did that, I can't explain it and I don't try -- I just keep laughing.



He plays the guitar...I didn't know that I liked that until the first time he played for me and I almost melted.



And he looks cute in hats. That's very important to a relationship you know.



He is WAY taller than me, so I feel like a munchkin next to him...I am a big fan of feeling little. Look I am even on my tip-toes here.
That's another thing I love..I have to stand on my tip-toes to kiss him...it's a good calf workout. Apparently I need more workouts (see post below).




He has seen so much and done so much. This is him in Ireland, he went backpacking there BY HIMSELF while he was at school in Madrid(yeah, school in Madrid -- umm...I went to school in New Jersey...why do I feel like that isn't quite the same?).

Speaking of doing so much and seeing so much, last summer he went to Peru to teach English (again..I melt). Did I mention he is a teacher? I don't know if I did or not...well, he is a teacher. Now you know. While there he ate some weird stuff as I have previously mentioned here. Here he is with his class, because a normal picture would have been too much to ask for.

He is good with kids. Seriously, how cute is this picture? That is Juliette, my cousin Roro's youngest daughter. She loved him, it was adorable. Later we went out to eat, Juliette was happily sitting in Matt's lap, she was so relaxed she pooped...all over his leg. I found this to be hilarious. He didn't really like it. I have no idea why.

He is one of the boys. I love seeing the Matt, Ev, and Brandon together. They are usually making fun of me, but that's okay. I think this is where Brandon and Matt are saying something scandalous to my little brother. Look how red Everett is turning. That cant be good.

Girls stare at Matt like you would not believe. I am not the jealous type, I'm very secure in our relationship. But, for instance, this picture...Matt is talking to Trinity, my uncles girlfriend. But whoa cowgirl. Back off, I'm right here! (why do I feel compelled to take pictures of things like this?)

It happened again last weekend at the grocery store. A young lady was unabashedly staring. So I licked him. I had to! I was staking my claim!

Have you seen that Volkswagen commercial where the man licks the car to claim it as his? Well...I claim Matt as mine. Look here is another time where women were flirting with him. It was too funny to not stand back and document. Two inebriated cougars wearing feather boas making awkward conversation with my fiance while our goofy puppy tries to lick his face.

Perfect.In 9 days...he is officially MINE.

Extra Weight

I love hot air balloons.

Every year a nearby park has a hot air balloon festival. I find hot air balloons to be so beautiful.

On the second night of the festival they have what's called a "balloon glow." A balloon glow is when the balloons are inflated but are kept on the ground. They wait until it gets dark and then the fire up their heaters to music. It is extraordinarily beautiful.

Two years ago I went to the balloon glow, found a spot under a tree, and sat back to watch. As the balloons were being filled one of the pilots came over and asked if we could help!

I was so excited! Help with the balloon glow?? YES PLEASE! To me, this was like asking the average guy if he could help park race cars.

Little did I know the help he needed so desperately was for us to stand in the basket of his balloon as EXTRA WEIGHT so it didn't take off.

Extra weight? really? dangit.

Of course I did it. I have no dignity. I still got to stand in the balloon basket! (Thanks to my derriere.) It was really cool, if somewhat degrading.

Dinner in 1 Hour.

I just walked into the break room to feed my morning addiction -- err...get a cup of coffee, and I happened to notice a magazine sitting on the table.

"Dinner for 6 in 1 Hour!" It screamed.

One hour? One hour? Are you serious? I'm pretty sure I remember my mother bangin' out dinner for 7 in about 20 minutes on a regular basis. No really! I swear! The woman is just good like that!

I on the other hand...well, I think I'm going to go cut that article out.

I (and some friends) once made dinner for a couple of friends in the Dominican Republic. An older gentlemen felt the need to tell us that based on the quality of our cooking he thought we would probably never get married.

How charming.

HA! Proved him wrong!

The Great Transplantation

The great transplantation? Transplantation? Really? I don't know.

Point is: Matt and I moved last weekend. It was...okay. I'm sure you all understand me when I say it was "okay". Moving is exciting until you actually start doing it, then it is excruciating.

Friday I had to work, so Matt, his brother Mike, and my brother Everett did a great job moving most of the stuff over. Read: Bekah didn't have to help actually move stuff!

Then, that evening my friend Skye came over to help, so we went bowling. Because when you have about 600 boxes to unpack the very best thing to do is leave.

Obviously.

Had we not been moving, I probably would have said that I didn't want to go. I am not a huge fan of bowling. It has lost something for me ever since 10th grade gym class when they would bus us over to the bowling alley to learn to bowl. By learn to bowl I mean they would sit us in a backroom smelling of stake smoke and we would watch instructional videos filmed in 1973. Why men ever though it was okay to show that much thigh in their gym shorts I will NEVER understand.

But the thought of 600 boxes motivated me to work past my deep-seated emotional issues involving bowling (what?) and give it another try.

And you know what...it wasn't half bad. The company was good, I laughed until I cried, Skye almost got taken down the alley when she tried to use a 15 pounder. Why did she try that? 'Cause she is Skye, that's why! Mike and Matt got their "groove" going...sometime I have to figure out how I can expose you to their dancing...it's beyond funny. Thing is, they are pretty good dancers, I think it's just the concept of them dancing that makes me hoot with laughter.

Oh, and apparently those bowling videos from 1973 paid off, because by some bizarre twist of fate, I won.

And anything I can win I will continue to do.

Now, about those boxes...

Stud-muffin age 7

Branson has reached the ripe old age of 7. On his birthday he gave me a big hug and I did what every adult does when a child has a birthday..."So, do you feel older?"

I remember being asked that and thinking it was the DUMBEST question ever when I was younger. I remember awkwardly laughing and saying "no, not really" while rolling my eyes. 'Cause I was WAY too cool for that question.

And there I was asking it. What transition occurred in my life that made me think this question now makes sense? At what point did I stop being way too cool for the stupid adult questions and become the stupid adult?

I am ashamed.

He did tell me, however, that when he woke up he felt achy. Well, what do you know?? He does feel older! I am pretty sure age is merely a progression of aches and pains. Ahem, but not wrinkles...no I refuse to get them. I CHOOSE not to wrinkle.

That is optional right? I'm pretty sure I read that somewhere.

Anyway...Branson...

After turning 7 he began to speak a new language. What language that might be I have no idea, but it is most definitely not English.

I saw him last Sunday, he ran over, hugged me, smiled and said "lukit wati madiclas!"

Blink, blink.

He wiggled his drawing in my face...Emily translated that he was telling me to look at what he made in Sunday School.

They aren't sure if it is because of the summer, or because he is now senile at the age of 7, but seriously, you gotta work pretty hard to understand him now.

And I'm really just not up for that kind of effort. I can't figure it out. I have tried and tried all day long. Eventually I just pushed him in the pool. I saw no other option.

RAMBO

Have you seen the new one? I just watched it on Father's Day, because that's the kind of together time my dad and I usually have. I had seen the other Rambo movies, and although I can appreciate a good action flick, Rambo never held my attention the way a movie like Predator could. Maybe it's because I love Rocky, and every time Sly opens his mouth I am waiting for him to say "Yo Adrienne." I find it hard to focus on much else when I watch him.

But anyway...I watched Rambo. And you know what....I loved it! I mean...no the plot isn't intricate, and yes, it's pretty darn gory. But it was so real to me. Maybe loved it isn't the way to describe it, maybe it would better for me to say I appreciated it and respect what they were trying to do. Going into it I had no idea what it was about.

Turns out it is about the genocide and slaughter of the Karen tribe in Burma/Myanmar. If you have been keeping up with this blog, or reading for a while, you might remember when I told you about this trip I took a few years ago to Thailand.

What I neglected to tell you about that trip is that for three days we went up into the mountains that border Burma. And we stayed in the homes of the Karen tribe. They opened up their homes to us and shared what they had with us.

And the children...oh, the children. Everywhere we went we had a following of about 20 or so boys and girls, each one clamoring to hold our hands. They loved to walk around wearing our shoes, and to take pictures with us. I'm hesitant to post those pictures because I worry about any effect that might have on the village where I was staying. I'm probably being a little over cautious with that, but here I am wrapped in my cocoon of safety while they are about 30 minutes away from a military regime that may just decide to exterminate them at will. I would rather they have no association with an out-spoken American than suffer for anything I might say. You can read more about the situation in Burma here.

At the time I knew that the Karen tribe was pretty much as low as you can go on the social status totem pole. I did not know that they were being actively wiped out in Burma. I vaguely remember men with machine guns strapped to their backs, but I never truly felt threatened. I have been in other situations in other countries, but with the Karen I never felt that hostility. I know now they were carrying them for protection, and that breaks my heart. A village of 100 houses has to arm themselves to try to protect their families from a regime that cares only about its power and control of the Opium produced. The monsters hide behind their weapons and their military while annihilating the people of their own country. The people of Burma are treated like animals, they are played with and killed. The situation in Burma is worse than that of Darfur, and yet we sit back and do nothing.

Please see Rambo. I will warn you that it is violent, but that is toned down from what is actually happening. Please make yourself aware of the violence that is being perpetrated on others throughout the world, we can't work for change until we are aware of reality.

Holy Waste of Money Batman!

Are you kidding me??

You have GOT to be kidding me.

A Public Service Announcement

Yesterday I wrote an article for Divine Caroline, a website where women can write about whatever topic they gosh-darn want to write about. Today it was one of their top stories for relationships, which excited me to no end. Even though I'm pretty sure anyone can publish there, and they publish a lot, I am still very, very excited.

You can read it here although I will warn you it is not the usual writing you read on this blog. It's still real, and it's still heartfelt, but it is also relatively negative. I felt like I needed to express some thoughts that had been building in my mind about this whole wedding thing.

*Please note I said WEDDING, not MARRIAGE. The two are not synonymous in my mind.*

Then I saw my article on Yahoo buzz! Right above the article about Britney Spears...

What does that mean? Am I crazy? Have I been lumped into the same category as Brit? Oh my Lord. But I don't want to shave my head! I don't look good with short hair! No really. I don't!

Please understand that I have a lotta female emotions running through my head, and don't take anything I write too seriously! I certainly don't.

We will now return to the normally scheduled nonsense I write on this site. Please see below for my piracy dreams.

An Exchange Through Text

Matt: I had a dream about the rehearsal dinner last night. You looked beautiful.

Bekah: I had a dream I was a pirate again. Complete with eyepatch. I was even wearing the boots of another pirate I had killed and plundered.

Matt: Hahaha really?

Bekah: Oh yeah, really. They were black crocodile skin cowboy boots, which, now that I think about it, doesn't fit in with the swashbuckling dream.

Matt: Hahaha

Bekah: Is it weird that you are having wedding dreams and I am dreaming about being a pirate?

The Flight of the Coward

A few days ago I posted this picture of Noel and Jaco:

And some of you were scared. Don't be scared! I promise...Jaco taunts that dog like you would not believe. Despite the fact that he is half her size, he knows that he is much faster than her. This snarl was well-deserved.

He carefully lines up his trajectory.

He takes a leap....

And seriously...this happens a LOT. He clears her. Right over her back.

Did you watch Wishbone? That show with the story-telling Jack Russell? I think Jaco would make the same sound Wishbone did when he flipped over backwards. Waa-ta!

Then he takes off like a coward.

I love the look on Noel's face. "Stand and fight you little punk."

Sometimes he does not clear her, and that's when the fireworks start...like in the first picture. Or in this one:

Like I said...he had it coming!

What's in a Name?

A lot actually. And I happen to like mine. I do. REBEKAH. It's different but not weird. I mean...I'm not obsessed with it or anything...I don't excessively doodle my name on every piece of paper I come across.

So WHY is it that someone I have been communicating via e-mail with for OVER 6 months still writes "Hello Rebecca" as the subject of all of her e-mails. I make a point of typing out my full name at the bottom of all of my e-mails to her, hoping against hope that someday, someone will notice that my name is R-E-B-E-K-A-H.

I have nothing against the C-C-A spelling...but come on!

I went through an entire week of summer camp being called Rachael because the doofus counselors COULD NOT figure out what my name was. Is it really that hard?

Spell check always picks up on my name and tries to tell me it is spelled wrong. I add my spelling to the dictionary of any public computer I happen to use.

The last straw though, and the reason I felt the need to post this, came today when logging on to my work computer. Apparently our computers were updated over the weekend.

It greeted me this morning with.."Good Morning Rebecca!" My cry of dismay could be heard throughout my floor. Oh...and I can't change that. No, only an administrator can change that. Excuse me while I go pout.

R-E-B-E-K-A-H.

R-E-B-E-K-A-H.

Random Thoughts by Bekah

11 people die every year in vending machine mishaps....this boggles my mind. How does this happen? I mean...I guess people are shaking them to get a drink out, but come on.

The average person eats 4 spiders a year while they are asleep. This alone is enough to fuel my insomnia for nights on end. Ew. AND...yesterday I woke up with a bite on my elbow...I'm scared y'all. Real scared. I don't wanna eat a spider!

Malaria kills more that a million people every YEAR. 90% of those are African kids. One every 30 seconds. A mosquito net costs $10 US. While that may not be doable for people in Africa...it is doable for me. I'm linking a site on my right...you have the chance to save the life of a child...will you take it?

http://www.nothingbutnets.net/

At the risk of getting up on a soapbox...America -- we can do more. There are things that we cannot and will not change. There will never be world peace, or equality...we may never eradicate AIDs, but there is no reason that we can't prevent babies from dying of a disease that only costs $10 to prevent. No reason folks.

And now I'm going to step off that soapbox...I'm not sure how I got up there or where that came from, but since I write this blog I can say whatever I want! So there!

Product Review - Bamboo Furbuster

**This is not a paid advertisement...but if anyone out there wants to pay me I am all for that, just want to throw that out there**

I never had any intention of reviewing products on this blog, but I really was impressed by this one.

Do you know what this is? It is an "fur-buster" made by Bamboo. The last time we were up at Matt's parents his mom had one, and while it didn't make an amazing difference on Jaco(he has pretty short hair, but it did make a difference), I really wanted to try it on a dog with a thicker coat. I searched high and low for a willing participant.

Enter Noel. Noel is the dog that my parents had had since my freshman year of high school. She is a mellow chow/German Shepherd mix. Chow chows have an insane orange coat, Shepherds also have pretty thick coats. Mix those and you get a large, fluffy, orange dog with a splotchy purple tongue.

See.

So this is my very first pass over her back. Do you see that black looking fur?? That is her undercoat coming out...

Someone please tell me what is wrong with my hand. Oh. my. Lord. That is one scary extremity.

After that picture I had to put down the camera, because this job required both hands.

15 minutes later this was the scene on the patio. Just a suggestion, definitely do this outside, and have a garbage can nearby. The undercoat is really fluffy, and was blowing around in the grass for the next two days. This is what I could catch and pick up.

I think that with regular use using this tool will make an even bigger difference on her coat. The only thing about the tool that could be considered a con is that after about 15 minutes she yelped a little so I stopped...I think she was getting a little tender. Whether that is actually the fault of the tool or the user who is to say. I forgot to take a good after picture, so here is this one...

Um...aside from being scary as all get-out, she really does look thinner. Jaco likes to pick fights with her. I don't know why, because I'm pretty sure that if I ever saw this a foot away from my face, I would never ever ever mess with that dog again.

Hey, I never said my dog was smart. Cute, yes. Playful, sure. Goofy, absolutely. Smart, no not really.

My Brush With Celebrity

I was reading this blog today...and it made me think of some of the concerts that I have attended. Which I realized is a LOT. I enjoy live music...I like the rush of the crowd, there is something about being held spellbound along with thousands of other people but just a few artist on a stage.

Once at a Coldplay concert I looked over at my friend Jeff to see tears streaming down his face. After I stopped laughing I thought about how music can do that. How it can reach right down into our hearts. It's pretty incredible really. Then the guy next to me passed out and spilled beer on me...that part of concerts I could probably live without.

During my freshman year of college, Maroon 5 came to play at my school. I went along with two good friends, Jess and Skye. We wormed our way right up to the stage. The concert was fun, of course, but at one point Adam(the one that sings..I totally had to look up names), came right up to the edge of the stage, looked me in the eye, and continued to sing. I kid you not. He really did.

That one...right there in the front. I laughed SO hard. SO SO SO hard. It seemed so..staged? Is that even the word? Jess elbowed me frantically in the ribs -- I think she was embarrassed by my lack of star-struckedness. Yes that is a word. Okay okay its not...I made that word up..but the story is true.

AND it gets better!

Adam(singer dude) eventually got tired of my laughter and went to find a more suitable person to sing for, understandable. We had a lot of fun, and the concert as a whole was a blast. Did you know girls actually DO throw underwear up onto the stage? They do.

After the concert Jess had to take off...I think she was still embarrassed by my laughter actually. Skye and I desperately needed to find a bathroom. We knew the building pretty well, we were students there after all, so we just headed down the stairs to find a restroom. We got a tad turned around down there and were having trouble.

We found a door that led into a locker room, and everyone knows there are toilets in locker room. What we did not know is that that particular locker room had been turned into Maroon 5's dressing room.

OOPS.

Haha...AWKWARD! We said hi, good show, then asked where the bathroom was. They in turn asked where their bus was.

We pointed the way out to the parking lot...I have no idea if that is where their bus was or not..but it seemed like a logical bet.

We then continued our hunt for the restroom, but security found us. Luckily I had history class with the security guard...so it was fine, he just showed us where the bathroom was.

And that, children, is how I met Maroon 5.

What are the odds...

..that my brother-in-law will ever turn his back on me again?? ***that is a BB gun...NOT a real gun. I would never aim a real gun at him on purpose. Mostly because no one would ever trust me with a real gun to turn their back on me for a second. Oh! And I totally didn't shoot him.

My brother shot me right after that picture was taken...but that was as punishment for the outfit I was wearing. Good Lord Almighty what was I thinking? It's like hobbits gone bad. AND it looks like I have a gut...which to date I do not. I don't think my body is anything rockin' or anything...but I know I don't have a weight problem.
Of course you could never tell because my hips look incredibly LARGE in this picture. It's true...you can't deny it. I used to love that skirt too...now I see it is out to get me.

Matt calls that last one my redneck sister-in-law picture. The open-mouthed laughter has something to do with it I am sure.

Forgive me, for I have sinned against the laws of fashion.

It's not the first time...and it's probably not going to be the last...

A Big Happy Birthday to Mosaicroro!

Happy birthday to my dear cousin Rachael. She is my kindred spirit. There is a 10 year age gap between us, but seriously...she gets me. I don't know where that comes from, I mean our mothers are sisters and all, but still.

For instance..the other day she emailed me an idea for table numbers at the wedding...little did she know I had already decided on that same exact idea. Maybe you don't have goosebumps..but come on, that's weird.

Oh! And we share the black thumb. For some reason, we are unable to keep plants alive. Just doesn't happen. They realize they are in our care...and they give up. (I think she does have a thriving cactus though). When that little similarity came up, this was her reply:

"Scruff...only Jesus knows why we were passed over when He was blessing our dear close relatives w/ the green thumbs. He has a higher purpose for us I suppose. Maybe a humbling of ourselves to realize that keeping something alive is not our gift. ....yikes...If that is the case, I am lucky this kids have survived as long as they have..."

(Scruff is me...I'll explain some other day)

I love it. She gets my quirks, my sarcasm, my weird little tics. And if you didn't know I tend to be sarcastic and thought that I was being literal in this blog..I apologize for the confusion. I'm not THAT weird. You can read her blog, or you can check out her beautiful pictures. She is one of those rare people that everyone loves and that loves everyone. Really..she is..you can't know her and not be interested in her life. She lives far away from me now...so I love looking at her pictures and pretending I am there.

She has three beautiful children. And I know everyone says that about children...but seriously...these kids are too much.

*disclaimer...I totally stole this picture from her pictures...I didn't have a good one*

And to prove how wonderfully classy we are....I bring you this...

Shame? No, I have none.

Blue eggs and Hammy

On Friday I promised you a story about my little brother and an egg. And it is a doozy. Something you should know before hand -- my brother used to be called Hammy when he was little, that is relevant only to the title of the post, but I still thought you should know.

Okay, where was I?

It all started on a hot summer day (or maybe it was a mild spring day, I don't actually remember that detail). Emily and I had found a perfect blue Robin's egg laying in the grass, and struck by its beauty, we took it home, put it on the porch, and forgot all about it.

I decided to ride my bike down the lane, I had gotten to the end by the road and was on the return leg of my sojourn, when I heard a blood-curdling scream. Really folks, blood-curdling. It was bad.

I knew that something terrible must have happened to cause a person to scream that way. I worried that someone was injured, possibly missing a limb. I pedaled as hard and as fast as my eight-year old legs could pedal.

I spun around the barn and saw my Mom and brother standing on the front porch. I threw my bike onto the yard and rushed up the front steps.

Then I saw a little bit of something yellowish dripping down my brothers chin. On the porch I saw some crushed blue eggshell.

To his three-year old mind, that bright blue Robin's egg looked just like a malted milk egg, so despite the fact that he found it outside and it wasn't his, he crunched right into it.

In his defense...it is kind of hard to tell, and to a three-year old they are pretty much identical.

Egg-killer.

Today...

...my dear little baby brother is graduating.

Sniff. Sigh. He is way to young for this. Seems like just yesterday he was laying on the floor watching cartoons. Oh wait, no, that was yesterday, but still...my point is...he is way to young....

Way, way, way, way to young to be a "grown-up."

I'm going to want you to forget you ever saw this picture. Oh! and according to Brandon(on the left), that is his "sexy face," oh dear.

I don't know if I will allow this. He is too sweet to grow up. Just last week, my dog caught a bird and Everett, being the kind-hearted individual he is, tried to save the life of the bird. Of course it didn't work because my dog has remarkably large teeth, but still...its the thought that counts right?

Such a cute little fellow, but I promise to never let him forget his roots. Like riding our sawhorse, Biscuit. And, I have another story about an unfortunate incident with a bird egg. I'll share it with you next week. I promise.