Broken blog

My blog seems to be broken! I can not pull it up. If you can, let me know! I e-mailed this in. Thanks!

Freaked out

OK, I am officially freaked out! I just read that a High School classmate of mine has a son graduating from High School. Grant it, she was one of those sweet girls who had it all together until she got pregnant her senior year. She married the father, also our age, and they are still together. They have beaten the odds and, from what I hear, are a very sweet family. BUT STILL ...a child graduating from highschool???!!! Stars above, it just can't be so!

It really freaks me out that they have a 17 almost 18 year old son! Kolby is 7. Rhett is 3. I cannot imagine being this age and having a teenager! Isn't 35 still young? What really freaked me out is I just realized that my 20 year high school reunion is in less than 3 years. WHAT??? I think I blinked my eyes and missed a decade somewhere. How can this be?

The older I get, the faster time flies. Just had to share my freak out with you blog world!

Place in this world?

I have been thinking a lot about my time in Kenya since I posted about it last week. I have e-mailed the missionaries I worked with in Nairobi and asked them what happened to my precious gate kids. The second picture I posted of them last week is burned into my memeory. Those eyes! I really did want to pack those two and bring them home with me! I will let you know what I find out. But mainly this week, I have been thinking about the poverty I witnessed in Kenya.

I did a little research. According to this site's data on Gross National Income, the USA has the forth highest Gross National Income, per capita in the world. This means if all our wealth was distributed evenly amongst the population, we would all be making $37,610 annually. The good people of Luxemborg lead the world with a GNI, pc of $43, 940, Norway $43,350, Switzerland $39,880 then, the USA at $37,160. (All of these figures are in US dollars.) Of course we know that many employable people make much less than $37,160 and many make much more. In the US, as in most countries of the world, it is believed that 80% of the wealth is held by 20% of the population. With this 80/20 factor, it is easy to see how there can be so many poor people in the wealthiest of nations.

Now look at a country like Kenya. Kenya is one of the most economically, and politically stable countries in East Africa. However, Kenya's Gross National Income, per capita is about $390. Yes, $390.00! Now apply the 80/20 distribution standard found so prevalently all over the world to Kenya. It does not take a math whiz to understand that many if not most people in Kenya are living in poverty. (By the way, for those of you who are tempted to say that things cost much less in Kenya so the dollar goes further, not so! There is not as wide of a price gap as you would think. For example, thirteen years ago a 2 liter of processed milk in Kenya cost what was equal to an American dollar... only about 30% less than it cost in the US at the time. There are some exceptions, but most things are that way.)
For those of you who are more visual, I think these block graphs explain the Population/Wealth ratio for the world.
Block graph of the worlds population


Block graph of the Global Wealth

So what does that mean to me, a housewife in central Texas?

It means that at my birth, I won the world lottery. It means that I have more economically than a far greater percentage of people in this world. It means it is a privilege to get to choose to stay home with my kids for a few years even if it means driving 10 year old cars, not going to Disney World, and not always being able to splurge on things we want. It means the $150.00 I spent in prescription co-pays last week for my families sinus problems is more money than many Kenyans will make in a year of hard labor. I have a responsibility to live up to all I have been blessed with and to reach out to those with less... for there are so many with less. And today, it means I feel grateful and satisfied, not filling my mind and time with the unending pursuit of getting more.

Then there is the spiritual side of all this. Does God love the little girl born to a poor hungry family of 8 Kenya less than he loves me? Has he blessed me economically more for a reason? Do I have more responsibility to that little girl than she has to me? What would God want me to do for her? Many questions. Most of which are very hard to answer...or are maybe the answers are very hard to live with?

Please don't think I am saying that all of us who have more than most of the world are selfish horrible people. Not at all! I think guilt is a gift of the devil, not a gift of God. What I am saying this: My knowledge of the world and my economical ranked place in it should motivate me to live a life of unselfish service and gratitude. I have to be reminded of that often.

I'm very bad about getting caught up with all I want to do, or buy, or give my kids. Not that that is all bad but, it can not be the center and purpose of my life. This week my memories of Kenya and the incredible people I met there have reminded me that this life is not about our "place in the world" per say. This life is about our place in eternity. For me, that eternal perspective must stay in the center of all my thoughts and actions or I start to get caught up in the woes and woos of this world.

Where am I going with all this? I am really not sure. But, my hope is that my God and Savior will continue to use the people and events of my life to steer me towards the center HE wants for my life. My prayer is that I will not get in the way!

Not Much

I have often said I enjoy reading blogs more than I enjoy posting. This week that really rings true. When I click down my blog role, by the time I have read to the bottom, I have nothing to say. You guys say it all so well for me! For those who know me, I am sure it is hard to imagine me not having much to say...but it's true.

So, if you came here looking for more than not much, here are some suggestions. If you want to read a "kick you in the spiritual pants" blog, check out what Ms. Judy has been saying the last three days. DJG always has some great analogies. Then there is Mike Cope and Brandon... Geez, there are no better blogs than those! If you want to hear about a fun weird named festival, jump on over to my good friend SJ's blog. If you want fun life stories with kids...well take your pick, as there are so many!

It isn't just the eloquence of my fellow bloggers keeping me off line, its SPRING! For me Spring means perfectly beautiful days and allergies! Currently, I have a sinus infection due to Waco spring allergy season. (Which for me is not half as bad as Abilene's, but much worse than San Angelo's and Fort Worth's spring.) Anyway, when I am not coughing, hacking and talking in a "man voice" as Rhett calls it, I am outside watching the kids ride bikes, pulling weeds, and avoiding all the projects I need to do inside the house. It's just to pretty to be inside.

Bike riding has become my kids favorite thing! Kolby lost her training wheels a month or so ago and Rhett...well Rhett is so kamikaze with training wheels, I shutter to think how bruised his little body would be if we were to let him take the them off! (And yes, at age three, he has actually tried to remove them himself with the pliers!) So you can imagine what I am doing when not blogging. Maybe I will be a better blogger when things will calm down this summer....Hey, I can dream, right! :) Have a great weekend blogworld!

Kenya dreams

I found an older Bible the other day. This picture fell out of it.


Summer 1991 Njeri, Wshera and me outside the KCITI/ Eastleigh C of C gates in Nairobi, Kenya. Njeri (in-Jerry) was 5 or 6 and Wshera (Wa-she-ra) was 3 or 4.

These two stole my heart. I must say they were the favorites of all the interns. They had a baby brother named Zoom! He was only one years old and so cute. Wshera and Njeri lived in a two room shack just outside the church compound gates with their mother and at least four other siblings. They, along with half a dozen others, were always waiting for us at the gates so we called them the gate kids. I never understood who or where their father was. I'm not even sure of their tribe..Kikuyu maybe. But for two summers of my life these were my kids.
Njeri & Wshera

Many a Sunday night Wshera would fall asleep in my lap at church. Njeri would sit beside me doodling forever. I brought something for them everyday in my bag. Food, sweets, small toys, soap. I think they actually called me the Swahili version of "the bag lady" for a time. I had so many nicknames during my brief time in Kenya.

The second summer I brought them each two outfits from Wal Mart and some tennis shoes. It was the first time either of them had ever worn new clothes. Most of the people I knew in Kenya bought second hand clothes. I am not even sure that you can buy new clothes in Kenya unless you can afford to go to the newer expensive shopping centers. Almost none of the people I knew could afford this. Anyway Wshera and Njeri were thrilled with their clothes. Their mother was too. Wshera and Njeri wore their 'merica clothes with great pride.

A month into my second stay in Kenya, Njeri did something awful to her hand. I am not sure how it happened but the skin was just hanging off her little palm. I was not there the day it happened. I think I had been on Safari for a few days. When I came back, Njeri was no where to be found. Finally a guard told me she had really hurt her hand. I told one of her sisters to bring her to me. She looked very sick. Her little hand was wrapped in dirty torn fabric and was burning hot to the touch. My fellow intern Tonya and I were appalled. But we knew her Mama was doing the best she could. She lived in a corrugated shed, with dirt floors and no running water or electricity. What was she to do?
Mama Zoom and family in front of their home.

Tonya and I had no car that day so we set off on foot to take Njeri to a neighborhood clinic about two miles away. They refused to see her even though we were willing to pay. My Swahili was as bad as their English. We made the trek back to the church in disgust. The workers at the church said the best we could do would be to bandage her hand and give her some chai. Chai! She needed an antibiotic and maybe some stitches.

So Tonya and I rebelled. We took Njeri down to the main street, hailed a proper English cab...Hard to find in those parts.. And asked the driver to take us to the nearest hospital for Wazungus. (visitors or White Men) I didn't care how much it cost. I don't even think I asked her Mom. We just told the guards at the gate where we were going and we were off. God put us in the right cab. The driver took us to a nice clinic miles away on the nice side of Nairobi. It was like a regular western hospital.

We saw an English speaking doctor who never asked us who Njeri was or what happened to her hand. Njeri was so excited and amazed by the clinic and the big x-ray machine that checked for broken bones that she never cried. She would not let Tonya or I out of her sight though. Her eyes were as big as saucers. It wasn't until later that I realized how big of a culture shock that must of been for her.

The doctor said that nothing was broken but her cut was badly infected. He gave her a few stitches and a shot of antibiotics. He asked me if she had had her inoculations. I had no idea. He went ahead and gave them to her anyway. I think it was a tetanus shot. He said she would be fine with little scaring but that her hand had to stay clean for the next two days. He wrapped her bandaged hand in plastic. He also said something about her being lucky to have good friends like us as she could have lost her hand if gangrene had set in.

By the time we were ready to go, we had reached the missionary to let them know where we were. I think Scott Sewell came to pick us up. The whole visit cost less than 50 dollars. Tonya, Scott and I split the cost. Fifty dollars to save the hand of a precious little girl. I would have gladly paid ten times that. This was my second three month stay in Kenya. I had trudged through the filth of Mathari Valley, seen kids play in sewage streams, watched mothers line up at the trash cans behind the meat shop to get the fat cut off of meat by the butcher, yet it never really hit me what poverty was until that moment. Poverty is not the absence of plenty, it is the absence of enough.

The fifty dollars we spent might have been more money than Njeris family would see in a year. Her little hand could have been lost but for fifty dollars, roughly what I pay for a good pair of shoes. That is poverty. Many families in Nairobi had it much worse. Luckily, I was too young and naive to dwell on such things. It would have been too hard.

After we returned to the church, Tonya and I decided that to keep Njeri's hand clean and safe she would have to come home with us for a night or two. We should have asked someone if that was Ok culturally, missionally, ethically, and politically, but I don't think we did. So that Njeri wouldn't be too scared, we brought Wshera too. Her Mama, Mama Zoom, was grateful and never hesitated to send her children off with us.
The gate kids loved to crawl and climb all over us!

I learned more about Kenyans in those two nights than in the six months I was in Nairobi. The kids acted as though we were taking them to Disney World! They had never been outside of their working class lower income neighborhood of Eastleigh. They couldn't speak much English and we couldn't speak much Swahili, but we had so much fun.

As you can imagine, after feeding them, the first thing we did was give them a bath. They had never seen a bath tub. They were a little afraid to get in. They feared the water would be too cold. They were amazed at the warm water and the bubbles we made with shampoo. They slashed and laughed and talked really fast in Swahili to one another. When it was time to let the water out, they were amazed! They kept looking under the tub to see where the water was going. They talked to a missionary on the phone later that night and told him that we had taken them to America where the water goes down the house and disappears.

Every little thing we did was a total thrill. When it came time for them to go to sleep, they were amazed at the bed with white sheets and the pillows. Wshera kept wanting to lay under the bed. He thought Tonya and I would lay on top of the bed. When we showed him our beds in another room he asked were all the other people were who lived in this village? (It was a three bedroom two bathroom apartment we got to stay in because the owners were in that states for a few months. )

Since Wshera and Njeri had no electricity in their own home, they were used to going to bed when it got dark and getting up at first light. Our lights fooled them into going to bed a bit later, but not into waking later! It was a wonderful day and two nights! I learned more Swahili from those two than from all the books and classes.

When we returned to the church/school compound with them, Wshera & Njeri were super stars among their little friends. They told everyone that they had been to America with us, even though we told them we had only gone ten miles away. Ten miles, and two worlds! Looking back I have worried those days may have been too much for them, but at the time it was great. I pray their time with us was positive in the long run.

I have no idea what happened to them. I know a tender hearted intern who paid for them to go to school (no public schools in Kenya) for several years. As cute as they were and as close as they lived to the church, they had a better chance than most to get an education and do well. Wshera would be 16 or 17, almost a full grown man by Kenyan standards. Njeri would be 18 or 19, a woman who might have kids of her own by now!

Sometimes my time in Kenya seems like a far away dream. It seems I was someone else back then, a lifetime ago. I wonder if I will ever go back to Kenya. I would love to see the kids and others I came to love while I was there. I would love to take my family. I would love my kids to see what life is like for these people who are just as good and hard working as we are. People who have a much harder life than we do only because they were born in a poorer part of the world. People who are happy with out what we Westerners deem necessary. I was so shocked to find joy in the midst of proverty. Shocked, ashamed, and comforted all at the same time.

I would love to go back to Nairobi to see if there are any lasting sign that we were there. I know the church has grown by leaps and bounds and there are several other churches that have been planted. I wonder if the youth camps and the VBS we did there had a lasting impact? Or our teacher training sessions? Or our hours and hours of teaching new songs, crafts and BASKETBALL? One of our main focuses was to grow strong leaders in the Kenyan Christian teens that participated in the Boys and Girls clubs operated by the church. I wonder if those kids grew up to be church leaders? I hope so.

I wonder if my going to Kenya helped anyone as much as it helped me? There were times that I felt selfish for going to Nairobi because I gained so much more than I gave. I hope and pray that somewhere in Nairobi there is a Christian man or woman who came to know Christ better because the work God did through us so many years ago. And, I hope someday I will meet Wshera and Njeri again, if not in Africa, in Heaven where we will all be in awe of the marvelous home God has prepared for us. Cu la la!(Swahili for go to sleep!)

Day Dream

Did any of you catch the "Super Nanny" on Oprah the other day? Oh my! I have to say that there were some things that she said that hit me right between the eyes. I was very thankful that my kids are not as out of control as the ones featured. There was one comment she made about kids behavior ALWAYS being a reflection of the parents that sent me to fear and trembling. What am I teaching my kids? What are they going to reflect? But I know there are some good things they could reflect.

Watching the Super Nanny in action just added a layer to that fantasy I have about reality/ improvement TV adopting me and making-over my life. Not that my life is that bad or anything... do fantasies have to make sense?

In my life make-over fantasy Trading Spaces could spruce up my house, and Clean Sweep could sort through all the stuff and painlessly purge and organize. Or Tye Pennington and Extreme Home Makeover could just come gut the house and build the beautiful, functional, organized home of our dreams in its place. What Not To Wear could have a stab at my closet and my "Mommy" wardrobe. Rachel Ray could get me cooking 30 Minute Meals that are light, healthy & tasty. Oprah could help me Make the Connection and get thin and fit. Extreme Makeover could suction, primpt, whiten and exfoliate the flaws Making the Connection didn't solve. Suzie Orman could straighten out all the finances and get us ship shape for a bright financial future. Dr Phil could help make sure my attitude and head were properly adjusted and ( here is the newest part) the Super Nanny could help me be an in-control, scheduled, disciplined Mom. ...And we could win the lottery and all go to Disney World for the summer! What a daydream!

Sometimes I feel like I am not the woman I should be when I day dream such things. Where is God in my daydream? Why do I want everyone else to fix me? This line of questioning could evoke much soul searching and many other questions, but alas, the sun is out, it's 72 beautiful degrees out side, and the backyard has graciously supplied a ton of weeds to pull! Questioning and soul searching will have to wait...or join me out in the back yard.

Any of you dare to daydream? Any daydreams you want to share? (By the way, this blog is rated PG : ) Happy Friday blog world!

The things they say

Pulled up to the gas station the other night and Kim Mulkey- Robertson (KMR for short) was pumping her gas. She is a celeb in these parts after coaching the Baylor Lady Bears to a national title last Tuesday. Kolby looks at her and excitedly stutters out "Hey it's ... Makenzie's Mom". Bet that is not what she was expecting to hear!

I brought donuts home for the kids from Shipleys. Each had a chocolate sprinkle and a bear claw. Rhett informed me that he didn't want a bear claw... he wanted a Lady Bear claw.

Yesterday watchng the Super Nanny on Oprah. Rhett turns to me and says " Don't ever, ever let her come to our house Mommy."

Last night tucking Kolby in she asked me if I could name the seven "incontinents" .

Kids!

History

"If I were to try to read, much less answer, all the attacks made on me, this shop might as well be closed for any other business. I do the very best I know how - the very best I can; and I mean to keep doing so until the end. If the end brings me out all right, what's said against me won't amount to anything. If the end brings me out wrong, ten angels swearing I was right would make no difference." Abraham Lincoln
SOURCE: The Inner Life of Abraham Lincoln: Six Months at the White House by Francis B. Carpenter (University of Nebraska Press, Lincoln, Nebraska, 1995), pp. 258-259

I wonder if every President since Lincoln has felt that way? When I first read this quote I was sure it was going to be credited to our current President. Last week for the anniversary of his death, I watched a documentary on Abraham Lincoln. I was surprised to find out that while in office, he was not popular. In fact many doubted that he would win re-election.

He was described as a "country hick and a buffoon". His detractors doubted the legitamacy of his Presidency. They said he was wrong to go to war to save the union. They said his reasons were economically and politically motivated. They said he had no regard for human life. They said war was not the answer. They said he had no right to free slaves from their legal humane bondage. They said his leadership would divide the country forever and end our fragile union. (Red states/ Blue states? Does any of ths sound familiar?) Although those who supported him were extremely loyal, those who didn't were extremely strong in their opposition. Several attempts were made on his life. Finally, one succeeded.

I love history! History teaches us so much about why people are as they are. History tends to repeat itself. Somehow I am comforted to know that the same arguments heard on Capital hill in 1905 are still being heard in 2005. Somehow I am also frightened and saddened by this. What will history say about our generation? A hundred years from now will there be a Republic of states bound in union known as the United States? What will history say about our President? The war in Iraq? The red state/blue state divide? Though time will tell, history gives us some pretty good hints.

The Churches of Christ have been accused of ignoring history and to some point I think that is a very valid accusation. We are quick to point to the Bible as our history, but we shy away from the period time between today and where the Bible historically ends. There are a lot of years between then and now. I grew up going to church three times a week and have enough hours to have almost minored in Bible at ACU but, beyond the last 60 years, I know very little about our church history. (But how many of us would show up for a class on church history?) I have heard a lot about the Restoration movement, but couldn't tell you (with out looking in a old text) what that was all about. Today many churches are entering a period of emergence. I wonder, if we really look at it, how different this movement is from movements of the past.

I know, I know! Boring History ramblings. Maybe I'll be a History teacher when I grow up! I guess my point is, we think our time is unique to us, all our ideas, revolutionary, all our methods, ground breaking. While some are, a good look at history will show that we are basically the same people we have always been. I do not suggest that history has all the answers for the problems of the country, the church, or even for us as individuals... but it does give us incredible insight.

I have come up against some very personal struggles lately. (Creamed corn, creamed corn ...and no it is not anything life threatening, horrible, or really even worthy of mention) There have been times I felt overwhelmed and wondered where to start or how to get a foothold. My old friend history has really helped. True, one can spend too much time examining yesterday and what went wrong, but before I can move forward, it helps me to know where I have been. Here's to History!

Sorry to be so cryptic and "out there" as of late. Someday I'll explain it all - it's really not a big deal. In the mean time, thanks for reading and letting me air my thoughts! :)

Farewell Candy Season

This post is a few weeks late.
Candy season ended two weeks ago.
What is "Candy Season" you ask?

Candy season ususally starts in September, if not late August, when all the stores set aside a few aisles for Halloween Candy. The day after Halloween, if not sooner, Christmas candy starts to infiltrate the candy section. By early November Christmas candy dominates the aisle. While shoppers are gobbling up after Christmas Sale items on December 26th, stockers are filling the candy shelves with all things, red, pink purple and sweet. High calorie confections are bestowed on the ones we love on February 14th. On February 15, amongst the 75% off candy conversation hearts, the chocolate bunnies arrive. What better way to celebrate the coming of Spring and the resurrection of Christ than with a Reeses peanut butter egg?

Easter candy left early with an early Easter this year. For the next five months, flip flops, bug spray, floaties and sunscreen will dominate most of the Candy season aisles and candy will again be confined to it's regular aisle and the check out stands. Candy season is over. I always feel a bit of relief this time of year.

As the title of this blog suggest, I find myself wondering about a lot these days. I wonder why in a country where 4 out of 10 children age 12-14 are obese, we have 7 month candy seasons? I wonder how much it cost to make M&Ms and Sweettarts take on new seasonal colors and shapes? They would not bother if we didn't buy it. Seems like a lot of money, time and resources spent on fluff. And hey, I am all for fluff from time to time...But 7 months out of the year? I wonder if we are dedicating more of our time and creativity to fluff, while issues of real substance are left far behind. Have we become a Candy Culture?

But what I really wonder about is me. Have I bought the lie that the Candy Culture sells? Do I spend more time, energy, and money on fluffy irrelevant things, ignoring the very things that meet my basic needs for substance? Am I a Candy Christian? Do I stock the shelves of my soul with fluffy sweet pleasures more times than I feed on the basics necessary for a healthy, active, growing faith? Where do I spend my time, my energy, my emotion? Is there too much "candy" in my life? Is life made sweet by the fluff or by the fruits of labor, dicipline, devotion and unselfish love?

Much to ponder as I bid Candy Season a fond farewell.

Supercalifragilisticexpealidocious

Mary Poppins said to use this word whenever you don't know what to say. Well here it is
Supercalifragilisticexpealidocious.
The biggest "issues" in my life right now are completely unbloggable. Not bad or good, just not bloggable. I like how DJG described these moments as trying to ignore the elephant that is sitting in the center of the room. I have found that when I can't talk about something,, that is all I can think to talk about! UUUGGGHHH! So pardon me for a while blog world! Would someone plaese pass the creamed corn?

How 'bout those LADY BEARS!!

Ok I am usually not a big Baylor fan. Why would I be?
But that has changed some this year. Kolby started my conversion. She thinks of Baylor as the home team. She loves the Baylor Bear. She loves Baylor football games where she sees all her little friends. Then Rhett started cheering for Baylor. Anytime someone is in a Green/Gold/ or White uniform, he is sure it is Baylor. Rob is such a sports fan... it didn't take him long to adopt the Bears. Our next door neighbor is an assitant coach for the mens basketball team. So the neighborhood( like all of Waco) is very pro- Baylor.

This year Kolby's first grade class has three PALs from the Jr High & High School who come and read with them. This semester, Makenzie is Kolby's favorite PAL. As it turns out, Makenzie's Mom coaches the Lady Bears. So now of course we have had to watch evey minute of every game to see if we could spot Makenzie in the crowd. In the process I have become a big Lady Bears Basketball fan! How could you not love this team and coach? I thought I was going to have a heart attack during Sunday Nights game against LSU when the Bears were down by 15 and came back to win. What a great game!

Rob is wearing his BU polo shirt to work. My kids are wearing their Baylor shirts to school with pride today. Tongiht we will let them stay up to watch the game. Rob has a softball game at 9:30pm but we are praying very hard for rain. ( We even comtemplated a "Bull Durham rain out" but didn't want to get thrown in the slammer. Not that big of fans...yet!)

It's sorta fun to be a fan, especailly when "your" team is playing for a national title. All of Waco will come to a screeching halt tonight at 7:30. We will be here watching with great anticipation as the Lady Bears and Coach KMR play in the NATIONAL Championship game! Just one win away from a National title! WOW!
GO LADY BEARS!!!

Once adored?

Rosie O'Donnell blogs.

i'm not suggesting
that you read it
you can't comment on it.
everything is a poem-like
though don't think
that is her intention
she writes well, spells bad
to that i can relate
the "spells" part anyway

the blog is called
Once Adored
is she not adored any more
does she think that
coming out
made her unadorable
did it

she really does
not like the president
to put it mildly
i do
to put it midly
i wonder if they ever met if she
would like him more or less
somehow i doubt they ever
meet on common ground

Seems this rose is always sad
Beneathe the laughter
Under the spunk
In the whirlwind of her fight
For homosexual human rights
She just seems a bit sad

mother died of cancer
father couldn't see her
turned to the theater
she let the culture raise her
did she have another option
always make us laugh
does she also make us cry

she seems nice
seems to care about others
seems to want to do good
seems scared.
things aren't always
what they seem
but sometimes they are

Jesus still loves rosie o
doesn't he
i think i need to remember
that the person i judge
is loved by God even if
not loved by me
aren't they

well that's it for my
"rosie" blog
feeling way to weird
it's really not my style
i just like plain
sentence typing

must go rescue
the living room
from small
mess monsters

Happy Monday!

No Saturday

No birthday parties.
No meetings.
No games.
No traveling.
No dinners or luncheons.
No playdates.
No sleepovers.
No grocery stores.
No malls.
No errands.
This is the Saturday of nothing.
It only comes around once every few years.
I relish every nothing filled moment of it.
No more blogging.
Happy Saturday!