I'm really getting into it now. The wind is picking up as the sun goes down, and our decision to sit out on the patio is starting to seem like maybe not as good an idea as we thought.
"Look at the trees and imagine: every nine months your lungs shrivel up and fall off," I say.
Katie is having none of it, though, saying, "No, it's just that their time goes by so much slower that they're just breathing once a year."
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One year ago: Our New Addition (Tumor Edition)
Two years ago: Disppointed in the Body
Three years ago: Attention to Detail
Four years ago.: Just Don't Call Her Late for (Insisting On) Breakfast
Eight years ago: 5/15/09 - I talk too much (again)
Nine years ago: 5-15-08 - Paranoia, Stil.
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