dear rats,
please stop dying under my house. go pester someone else, bitte.

no hard feelings, s

...

dear pest control guy,
prevent them from getting in rather than poisoning them once they get there. remind me what i'm paying you for again? [because this smell isn't it.]

disgruntled, s

begin: second quarter.
(happy birthay to me! for nine more mintues, that is)

everyday should begin with cookie cake and the daily show.
although i could do without the roofers across the street....

my pick won the caldecott!
(sorry, i've really sucked at this blogging thing of late)

two things that made my day (apart from spending the afternoon with anna and then seester):
tale of the worst massage ever
dan brown rippage

thank you, huffington post.
thank you.
i love this kid.

rolltide.

this is how we feel when we win a national championship. great faces all around, friends.
(we're going to pretend that i don't look pregnant in that last one?
it's the dress, i swear.)

you know how the stereotypical battered wife gives the "i ran into a door" excuse for a black eye?
yeah. i actually did that today. face bounced off the door frame on the way to the floor.
thermal ski socks + wood floors = bad news.
bellaswan out.

huzzah! if only that gray part dipped a little farther south...