To Moving Forward, Even When…..

Our Princess chose to learn about sea creatures this year in Science.  She has really enjoyed reading and learning, and she has shared things with me that I didn’t know.  Like the sea turtle who eats plastic bags thinking they are jellyfish, or like today.  I didn’t know that Columbus and the folks of his time weren’t really afraid of sailing off the earth.  But they were afraid of something else.

“Mama, do you have any really, really old maps?”

“I don’t know.  How old are you wanting?” (Keep in mind she has lived almost her entire life in the GPS era.)

“Well, it says in my book that mapmakers used to draw sea monsters on their maps to warn the sailors of danger, and I wanted to see what they look like.”

Ahem.  After I assured her that I most likely didn’t have any maps THAT old in my collection, I told her we could look them up on the internet and see what we could find.

We did a search and found a great number of “sea monster” maps at .  (Very interesting, check them out if you have time.)  They are really amazing to see–the detail and the imaginations.  There are drawings of sea “monsters” that date back to the 12 century and pottery pieces that can be traced back to 1st century.

Absolutely fascinating for us–we sat together and guessed what animals the cartographers might have seen that made them draw the different creatures.

Some of those creatures though, we knew they’d been straight made up in someone’s head and drawn from what they imagined was out there.


So they imagined the worst and drew it out as a warning on these maps… though what they feared was real?  Giving the fear a life unto itself?

Huh.  Again.

I don’t know about y’all, but I might have been known to do that–a time or ten at least.

Taking what scares me, and bringing it to life in my head, so much so that I am afraid to move, to set my sails and take off into unchartered territory.

Frozen by fear.

There is so much to be afraid of in this world, so much REAL stuff.  When I looked at these maps today, I realize that I’ve bypassed the real stuff and gone straight to making up things to be worried about or afraid of.

Yeah.  When the real stuff that does exist is bad enough, I’m off drawing monsters that I can see in my head and trying to make them real…..because I’m that afraid.

Of something that may not even happen.

Of something that, thus far, doesn’t even exist.

Well.  It’s time to tear up that pencil and pad and find my boat.  The one that will take me places I have never been with people I’ve never met.  And where most of the things I imagined could devastate me will. NOT. even. happen.


Tonight I’m thankful to know that I’m not alone in breathing life into my worries and letting them chase me from the next journey I should be taking.  Our people have been doing this for hundreds and hundreds of years apparently.  Fearing what may never come to be, what isn’t even real.

Tonight I’m also thankful to be reminded that many sailors apparently did sail through waters they feared might be the death of them.  They sailed on and went forward.  It reminds me of a quote my very wise cousin shared with me two days ago, when darkness threatened to shut out all of the light and brokenness tried to win over love.  The line is from “Wish I Was Here” with Zach Braff.


Amen.  To moving forward.  Into the unknown.  Moving past our fears or dragging them along with us.  Either way, moving forward.  In the direction we were meant to go.

May we all have the wherewithal to do just that today.

Love to all.

The Word I Didn’t Want Him To Say, and Why He Said It

I got Cooter a book on engineers.  It’s a massive book, more detailed and much thicker than I thought it would be.  If his interest in engineering continues, it will grow with him.

Which makes me very happy–I love getting my money’s worth.  So far, with him, we’ve only really gotten our money’s worth on the Star Wars and Harry Potter Lego character books.  He looks and reads through those almost daily.

We were having a lovely afternoon, sitting on the back porch with the windows open, soaking in the calmness of a day that teased us with the promise of fall’s impending arrival.  The sun, the clouds, the bluest sky, the trees still full of their green leaves.  The crew had spent much of the day reading.  Our Princess had picked up our recently acquired copy of Trumpet of the Swan by E. B. White–one of my favorites from early on.  She was delighted and amazed at the turn of events in the first few chapters.  Her recounting of it had Cooter laughing, and I’m pretty sure I might find myself in a quandary when he finds a way to sneak her copy and read it.  Because really, those are two things that boy lives for–making his sister crazy with his sneaky ways…..and reading.

As we were enjoying the quiet of the afternoon and the unscheduled afternoon hours we had, Cooter piped up with a question, “Mama, what do you think is the dumbest invention ever made?”  I frowned. He knows I do NOT like that word.  At all.  I started to correct him, and he looked at me in all sincerity, “Mama, I don’t think there is another word that means the same thing as dumb, is there? Really?”

And in that moment, my brain froze and I couldn’t come up with a single one.  Not really.

He took my silence as permission to continue.  “So Mama, which one?”

I shook my head, maybe in the hopes of clearing the fog.  “I don’t know.  I heard the other day about a thing that you press on a banana and it cuts it into banana slices.  That’s pretty silly.  I mean, who can’t take a knife and cut a banana into slices pretty quickly?”

He stared at me.

“Really?  Ummm, what about children?” He looked at me with a stern and indignant expression.   “That way they don’t cut themselves?”

Oh yeah.  Right.  “Okay, well, I don’t know then.”

“Well, I do.  There was a guy a long time ago who put some rockets underneath a chair and then he sat down and told them to light the rockets and he tried to make the first…..rocket…..ship!”  By the last few words, he could hardly get them out, he was laughing so hard.  “I mean,” he breathed heavily, “who would do that?  Put themselves on a chair like that? With rockets? See, Mama, that’s just dumb.”

I still don’t like the word, y’all.  But yeah, I get his point.  For now, we’re compromising as long as he only calls actions and not people THAT.

He later read to me in great detail about this thing that happened in 1500 A.D.  This guy in China did the first recorded experiment in “manned rocketry.”  He was a Chinese government official, who attached 47 rockets to this chair.  Cooter delighted in informing that after all were lit and he took off, he nor the chair were ever seen again.  Cooter found this quite hilarious.

Anybody wanna bet the guy’s last words were, “Hey, y’all, watch this!”?


Some days I really, really love homeschooling.  I enjoy wacky conversations like these that are nowhere in the plans that lead us to even greater talks, like how words can hurt people, and we need to choose them wisely.  Be smart.  Like what that guy five hundred years should have been.  But no.  (Trust Cooter to find the wackiest story in a 360 page book almost as soon as he got it.)

I’m thankful for the quiet and for the laughter that fills it.  Both are good.  As are the interesting stories I hear from the things they’ve read.  Today had all of the best things–from E. B. White to engineers. From swans who can’t honk to rocketeers.

All the really good stuff.

And for a Monday, that will do just fine.

Love to all.

Why I Keep Repeating Myself

Today has been one of those years.

Y’all ever have one of those?

I was waiting on a service person to come out to the house.  I’m sitting here eight hours later, and still nothing–not even a phone call.

I was trying to motivate folks to clear a path so the person could actually get to the place that needed tending to.

I was also attempting to educate all the little people.

And so, today, I found myself thinking of the Goose from Charlotte’s Web.  And I felt empathy and kinship and I’m pretty sure she is my–and every mother’s–spirit animal.


Because she repeats herself



As I repeated AGAIN what pages to read or gave out my preferences about the relocation of the Legos for the umpteenth time, she came to mind, and I smiled.  I was weary, but I was smiling.

Because she understands.

Last week I got so tired of repeating myself, I put school lessons off and we focused on picking up, cleaning, and culling outgrown clothes and toys.  For two days straight, we worked and picked up and I was starting to feel a little better about the house.  And stuff.  I sat down to put my feet up for a minute in the only quiet room in the house.  That was when I heard Cooter come in.  *sigh*

“Buddy, please go in the other room and do what I asked you to do.”

“But, but, I’m doing this.”

I looked over where he was plopped down on the rug.  With a notebook.

“I asked you to finish picking up your Legos.”

“Nooooo.  I want to do my Math!  Please let me do my Math.”

Wait.  What?

After I finished laughing at the irony, we had a little lesson about applying yourself in school and how important that is if you want to have a say in what you do as a grownup.  (Granted, not much say, but he doesn’t have to know that right now.)

My children now refer to it as the time they had to do “manual labor.”  Amazing what a motivator that has become for doing their lessons.

Still…..after this day of repeating myself more times than Ms. Goose, I am thinking we might be due for another day or two of that.

Because apparently these creatures I live with need things REPEATED. Often.

May you all find someone who will hear you the first time.  At least once.

At least once.

Love to all.

"Anser anser 1 (Piotr Kuczynski)" by Piotr Kuczynski - Own work. Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons -

“Anser anser 1 (Piotr Kuczynski)” by Piotr Kuczynski – Own work. Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons –

The Bag of Chips I Didn’t Throw At the Wall

A couple of weeks ago, I took the littles to a class about fifteen minutes from home.  I knew they would be going in alone, and I knew I could wait for them in the lobby area outside of the classroom.  What I hadn’t done was prepare for what I would do during that time.

Rookie mistake.  (And one I won’t be making again anytime soon–once a month, I get a block of two hours?  YES.  That.)

I pulled out my device and opened up the “Kindle” app, hoping I had something worth reading that would suit my mood.  I’m old school and much prefer real, hold ’em in your hands books, but if there’s a bargain for a Kindle book, I’m all over that too.

I looked and several I was interested in had not been downloaded, and I had no wifi service there.  Finally I found one that I could read.  I was surprised, because I didn’t remember downloading it.

It was A Little Salty to Cut the Sweet:  Southern Stories of Faith, Family, and Fifteen Pounds of Bacon by Sophie Hudson.  I remember the title jumping out at me, because that’s what my Mama always liked to have after a meal and dessert.  At the pizza buffet, she’d have her pizza, then a small bit of the dessert cinnamon treats Daddy would pick out for them, and then she’d need “a little salty to cut the sweet,” which was usually a skinny slice of their buffalo wing pizza.  The perfect ending, she said.

In one chapter, Sophie Hudson, also known as BooMama, writes about marriage and the challenges of learning to live with another person.  She mentions a time when her husband threw a bag of chips at the kitchen wall because he didn’t want to share them with her.

I laughed at that one.  That just seemed silly.  Why would anyone throw a bag of chips against the wall?


It was a night or two later, and I was in the kitchen cooking up some supper in my very favorite cast iron skillet.  The Fella was in there too, and we were talking about some serious stuff like old married folks do.  The reason I point out that it was “serious” is because that’s the only way to explain what happened next.

He must’ve been stress eating.

For health reasons, I’ve changed up how I eat, and sugars and starches of certain varieties are not my friends.  Occasionally I will find something that I can enjoy with little to no guilt.  When I do, I tuck them off to one side to keep little fingers and non-discriminating tastes from devouring them in one sitting.

Recently I found some sweet potato chips.  While I realize that chips are not the greatest of foods, I haven’t been able to eat any in so long that when I found the sweet potato ones (an approved food), I was thrilled.  That they are also tasty is a huge plus.

I guess you might can see where this is going.  We were talking.  The Fella stopped right in front of where my bag of chips were sitting, waiting to be a tasty bednight snack later on, and he dug in.  And I mean dug.  No one or two chips, but a handful.  And then…..right in front of my eyes WHILE I WAS WATCHING HIM, he grabbed another handful.

Like he had no idea what he was doing.

And like I wasn’t shooting him with the freeze ray and darts contained in my eyes.

Because I totally was.

But I guess the conversation was so serious, he had no idea.  He was about to go in again and decimate the bag, when I *ahem* gently reminded him that there were lots of other chips at his disposal over THERE, and that I kind of liked the chips he was snacking on, and that was the LAST of them.

He stopped.

He’s a smart man.

And a kind one.

Which is why the next day I found myself feeling pretty low.  First of all, I asked Sophie Hudson’s husband for forgiveness.  (okay, figuratively speaking) I now understand why someone would throw a bag of chips at the wall.  I mean, I get it.  Chips can be a deal breaker sometimes, y’all.  The struggle is real.  Secondly, the Fella.  He works hard so we can do what we do, and so I can stay home and work hard here.  Yes.  When I realized I hadn’t let him enjoy something he was apparently REALLY, REALLY enjoying, I felt pretty bad.

So on our way home that afternoon from our day to dailies, I asked him to stop at the grocery store and let me run in.  I wanted to surprise him with a bag of chips.

I got three.

We came home, and I put his name on one of them with a big ol’ heart I drew with a Sharpie.  I held them out as a peace offering, hoping he’d forgive me.

He laughed.

After all these years, he gets me.  And I’m pretty sure he loves me too, the way he puts up with the hot mess that I am.

But I don’t think he knows I kept two bags for me.  But it was really the only fair thing to do, considering.  I mean, for the sake of the marriage and all.


Tonight I’m thankful for good stories like Sophie Hudson’s that have a life of their own.  I’m thankful for my home, my family, and the Fella and his laughter.  And I’m especially thankful for those sweet potato chips–and that there’s a whole ‘nother bag YET UNOPENED.

And that makes me very, very happy.

Love and your own bag of chips to all.


Oh My Heart

Today I was going over some of his Grammar/Literature work with Cooter.  In one lesson the concept of “cause and effect” was presented, and there were opportunities to talk about it in the context of stories.  Then he was given a situation and he had to think and write about possible causes.

The first one made me sigh and laugh:

Your brother or sister is crying.  Cooter wrote:  because Princess hit her  

(He and his older sister have been at odds lately.)

The next one was very, very true, but it rarely happens (the cause he described, that is):

My mother and father are very happy.  Cooter wrote:  because I cleaned my room

Yeah, buddy.  We sure would be.  *hint hint*

It was the last one that made my heart hurt.

You have a new shirt or dress to wear.  Cooter wrote:  to the feunerlale

translate:  to the funeral

Oh bless.

He didn’t know how to spell it, but he knows what it is.  All too well.  From way too early an age.  New shirt.  New shoes.  More than likely a funeral is happening. Or about to.

Tonight I’m thankful for these insights into my child’s mind.  And heart.  It is a privilege that I don’t take lightly.  But I do wish my children didn’t know so much about pain and loss.  Especially when tonight, just before supper, my little guy looked and me and said, “I want to call Maemae and Cap.”

If only…..

Hug your people.  Tell ’em you love ’em.  Hold on tight for as long as you can.

Love to all.

Turn That Music Down!

This morning Cooter took his math and headed to his room.

Where he started playing one of his CD’s.

At full volume.

And, for the first time with this boy child, I heard myself hollering, “Turn that music down!”

For the love.

He’s eight, y’all.

He really needs to rein it in.  What do I have to look forward to when he’s fifteen if he peaks now?

He says the music helps him do his math quicker.  As I walked in to make sure he heard me over the music, he looked at me and said, “See I’m already done with one page.  It does make me work quicker.  My brain works better with music.”

Oh me.

It’s been one of those kinds of days.  The ones where time is passing by so quickly I feel as though I am on a Merry Go Round, watching the world continuing to go on around me.  And in some respects, without me.

When did the little guy whom I cuddled his first night on this earth and promised all the good things to turn into this music loving, dancing, singing, Star Wars expert, silly joke loving, mischievous, passionate little man?

I don’t even know, y’all.

But I’m going need for time and my children to slow down.

Wishing you all a moment to step off the Merry Go Round or roller coaster or log flumes and just be.  Still.  In the moment.  Stay there for as long as you can.  Because I’m learning we can’t stop it from passing–but maybe in appreciating each moment a little more, we can slow time’s passing down.

Love to all.

Learning with my Littles

We have begun week 3 of school here at Zoo Crew Academy.  It’s summer in Georgia, so unless we want to go out and play between 4:23 and 4:32 every morning, it’s just about too hot to do anything but keep ourselves inside.

And so we do.

With our math and writing and books and crafts and piano…..

we are staying busy.

This year, I let them choose what they would like to learn about in science.  I was hoping they would choose the same topic, but that would have been too easy I suppose.  Our Princess chose aquatic animals and Cooter chose those of the land.  I’m okay with it, because I’m hoping that if it’s something they are really interested in, they will learn more.

Today Princess was reading from her book and got quite upset.  “Mama, look at this picture!  It’s a beached whale.  Why did it have to die?”

We talked a little bit about it, and she finished her reading, still sad over what she had seen.

This afternoon as we were on our outsandabouts, the littles were watching Gilligan’s Island.  At one point, I think it was Gilligan who said, “He looks just like a beached whale.”

“Well then, I can assure you he must be dead,” quipped our Princess, without missing a beat.

Bless her.  Yes, she can assure us all of that.  Because she knows that’s what happens in many cases.

Homeschooling win.

I love it when I hear them take something they have learned and apply it later on.  That’s what I want most for them–to be able to take what they’ve learned and use it again in some way.  Some way that matters.  That’s my number one goal and wish for them as their teacher and their Mama.

Tonight I’m thankful for this opportunity to learn alongside them, to watch their eyes open in wonder and amazement, and to help them find the answers to their questions.  After all, thanks to today’s lesson my knowledge about beached whales now extends past the Seinfeld episode “Marine Biologist.”  Yes, this is definitely broadening my horizons–and that is a very good thing.

Love to all.

"Southern right whale10" by Michaël CATANZARITI - by Michaël CATANZARITI. Licensed under Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons -

“Southern right whale10” by Michaël CATANZARITI – by Michaël CATANZARITI. Licensed under Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons    This is NOT a photo of a beached whale. because that would have been way too sad.  And there’s enough sadness in our world, don’tcha think?  

If You Need a Timeturner…..

Last week Cooter hit another milestone.  He has been reading this same book off and on for a couple of months.  A little bit at the time, minus the several days in there when he thought he had lost the book.  (I believe it was found in his abandoned “Indiana Jones” backpack.)

Cooter finished reading “Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.”

Cooter's very own copy from our favorite local used bookstore.

Cooter’s very own copy from our favorite local used bookstore.

Y’all.  The excitement in our house when he finished–it was palpable.

His oldest sister grew up with the books and movies.  She was able to watch the movies as they came out because she grew up with the characters.  Her siblings do not have that luxury, because all the movies were made long before they had even heard of Harry Potter.

To slow down the requests of the littles to watch the movies, I’ve invoked the rule as Headmaster of Zoo Crew Academy that one must read the book in full before watching the movie.  (Being Headmaster is cool like that.)

So you can see why he was so excited.  He was ready to watch that movie.

I am excited because he is reading so well.  His handwriting might still look like chicken scratch that only he and I can interpret, but by golly, my boy can read.

I’ll take it.

He had to wait a day for his big sister to come home from college.  They had agreed to watch it together.  I’m glad it was only a day.  As it was the littles were just about camped out at the end of the road, waiting for her arrival.  When she got here, they were thrilled.

It was everything they had imagined and then some.  They loved it.  And it was so rewarding for them to know they’d earned it by reading the books first.  I love hearing their conversations comparing the book and movie.  It was hilarious when our Princess got frustrated with me because I forgot something that had happened.  It’s been a few years since I’ve read the book and seen the movie.

At the first of this week, I was discussing scheduling of a couple of potential summer activities.  Our Princess was standing there, and she heard me trying to figure out if two things would be at the same time.

“Oh that’s no problem, Mama. I can just get a timeturner and use it.”

Bless her.  She’s still waiting on her letter from Hogwart’s too.  She will, after all, be eleven this year.

A timeturner is a device used in the third book by one of the main characters who has more than one class scheduled at the same time.  With this necklace she is able to go back in time and take the classes at the same time.  So to speak.

When my girl suggested that she might need one (and was totally okay with that, I might add), it hit me like a cold, wet rag in the face.


I turned to her.  “Baby girl, if we need a timeturner to get it all done, we have too much on our schedule.”

I think I was telling this to myself too.

As the excitement of wrapping up the school year grows and my oldest moves back home for the summer, I see all of these wonderful options and projects and things that would be great popping up–on newsfeeds, in emails, on flyers.  And while I don’t intend to hole up all summer in my Roost with a stack of books close by (oh my, give me just a minute–I went to another place for a moment *sigh*), I don’t think we need to sign up for all the things this summer.  So many good things out there, but so many good things can turn into a stress-filled summer of staying in the road and on the go.  While I’m proud our Princess is a problem solver, I am not happy that she thinks running hither and yon is the norm.

Oh me.  I think we all need a stay-cation.

As we all come upon the good things out there, let us remember it’s only good if we still have some empty space in our day to dailies. To breathe.  To visit.  To simply be.  There might just be such as thing as too much good.

And may we, none of us, ever need a timeturner to do the things that fill our hearts and feed our souls.

Love to all.

Cooter's motto most days, I'm pretty sure.  :)

Cooter’s motto most days, I’m pretty sure, that little mischief maker. 🙂

A Little Writing Assignment

Yesterday after our Princess finished her math and spelling exercises, I asked her to work on her creative writing.  Rather than giving her a prompt as I usually do, I told her she could write about anything she would like.

A few minutes later, I heard piano music.  The littles have been taking lessons since January.  Our Princess has really taken to it.  Cooter will practice when I remind him, but she will sit down and play a tune several, SEVERAL times a day.  And the tune is usually Alouette or Yankee Doodle.  She knows them by heart.

So when I heard the music flowing, I knew it was her playing.  I left what I was working on, and went into the room where she was playing.

“Ummm, hello ma’am, what are you doing?  I believe you are supposed to be writing something?”

She looked up from her music and seemed shocked.  “But Mama, I AM writing.  See?”

And there on her plain robin’s egg blue paper, she had drawn lines and was writing notes on the lines.

Musical notes.

Composing.  My baby girl was composing.  Writing a song.

After I leaned over and picked my jaw up off the floor, I nodded.

She grinned.  “I’m writing though, right, Mama?”

I nodded again.  Satisfied, she turned back to the piano and continued to plunk out a tune and make a note of it on her paper.

Bless it.


Tonight I’m thankful for the joy of homeschooling.  There are days (like today) when Cooter seems to misplace his math every five minutes, and we are still working on it at nightfall.  But then there are days like yesterday when I see the passion for a subject or activity, and I can help them grow wings and fly.  Or, you know, compose.  I’m also thankful for the way music seems to soothe our Princess’ soul.  When she was frustrated with an assignment earlier today, she asked if she could get up and practice one of her songs for a few minutes.  After she played through it a couple of times, she came back to her work with a clearer mind and a can do attitude.

I love that.

May we all find something that we love so fiercely that it soothes our soul and gives us peace.

Love to all.

Dancing With Myself

Cooter recently got a new CD.  He is convinced that listening to it helps him get his Math done quicker and easier.  Me, not so much, but at least he doesn’t WHINE while he’s doing his math, so hey, I’m all for it.  Studying to music is a technique his oldest sister uses, and it seems to work well for her, so I’m waiting to see how it goes.

This morning he started playing it while I was in the kitchen.  Some of the new stuff has such a great beat, you know?  So there I was, cutting up an apple and moving around the kitchen, minding my own business, when suddenly I was all “My hands are in the air like I just do not care”*–I was dancing.

Now I’m no professional and I’m not sure how much moving I would be doing outside of my own home, but y’all, the beat was good and I was in my own home.  So I put that knife down and I danced.

Our Princess still wrapped up in her favorite golden blanket, off to practice the piano, looked over at me as she passed. That look and then, “Thank goodness none of my friends can see you, or I’d be VERY embarrassed.”

Y’all.  She’s TEN.

I’m not sure, but isn’t that a little early to start this kind of attitude?

I looked at her, and then decided to forgive ignore her.  My feet had a mind of their own.

I remember my Mama dancing around her kitchen.  She loved to dance.  She could do the Twist like nobody’s business.  Seriously impressive.  I don’t remember being embarrassed, but I could be wrong.  I probably didn’t dance with her, which I regret, but I didn’t shudder at the thought.  Seeing her dance was actually a glimpse into who she was, other than Mama.  It was intriguing, like seeing her Prom picture with someone who wasn’t my Daddy.  Mama was a real life person before she became my Mama.  And even harder to process, WHILE she was my Mama.

I still have a hard time wrapping my brain around that.

But here’s the deal, my precious young’uns, I didn’t check my “Tara” card at the door of the hospital when I first became Mama.  I can be me and still be your Mama.  I can dance and still wipe your nose.  I can sing at the top of my lungs riding down the road and still get the spaghetti stain out of your clothes.  I can laugh so hard while telling a story until you can’t understand a word I’m saying and still help you with your Math.  I can cry over a movie and still cook your supper.

Just like my Mama did.

Tonight I’m thankful for the joy that music stirs up inside me and for the ability to move my feet [somewhat] in rhythm.  I love that I can still surprise my children, just as Mama did us.  She was always our rock and yet she could still surprise us in wonderful ways. I give thanks for moments with my children like we had this morning.  The one where I glimpse myself through their eyes, and it makes me giggle.  I even give thanks for the almost eye roll I got from our Princess.  I’ve been on this teenage roller coaster already, so I know to buckle up good, because for the second time, I’m in for a bumpy ride.  The reason I’m giving thanks is I know how it turns out–eventually they come around and become really awesome people.

Another preteen in the house?

Yeah, been there, done that.  Bring it.

In the meantime, I’m gonna keep on dancing.

Life’s too short not to.

Love to all.

I kept hearing this song in my head while I was writing tonight.  You’re welcome.


*Yes, this is a line from the movie “Home.”  It was really, really good by the way.  I highly recommend it.  Lines from it are already becoming standard around here.  Like this one.  Now y’all go dance.