I suppose I could write about all the reasons why I couldn't post in the last umm...few weeks. I'll just cut to the chase and give it to your straight, I was abducted by aliens and they wouldn't let me have internet access. They had me wearing my hair in two buns over my ears and sitting in a stainless steel room in a white robe. They kept calling me by my catholic confirmation name, Leah and absolutely no wireless access.
In my bloggy absence it appears as if life has gone on here at the cul-de-sac. The 7 year old has declared herself more genetically related to her father (her words, not mine) due to the fact that she has discovered a true and deep everlasting love for meat. Yes, meat. I made pulled pork in the crock pot after the aliens dropped my ass back in suburbia and this is what I got.
Declaration that the adopted child does indeed have more of her father's ever-loving carnivorous self pulsing through her veins than the broccoli I've been pushing for six years. This scene was following by a very groovy happy meat dance. Highly entertaining, if you don't get out much like me.
Liv has been up to good stuff as well. She rides a bike now. She's three. No training wheels. Proving that her people were circus people, she spent 4 hours riding one way in a circle this past Sunday in the cul-de-sac. She never fell, not once.
It's strange but true. Her sister and friend next door were highly embarassed, as they only rode scooters until Sunday. They each hopped on a bike and started riding for the first time as well.
When you look at the last picture doesn't the music from Wizard of Oz when the wicked witch is riding her bike play in your head? Dunt dee dunt dee duhhh duhhh.
I was kidding about the alient abduction thing, no really I was. I'm jsut super busy with ye' old little business. Follow along as I post pictures of my new iron, the shark...and see if I can make 18 bags in 18 days while maintaining some semblence of mental sanity. Follow along at Pink Evita if you'd like.