come in....

here's to living winter vicariously through photos

(the sheep??...it was white)

“If you are a dreamer, come in…

…if you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar, a hoper, a prayer, a magic-bean-buyer. If you’re a pretender, come sit by my fire, for we have some flax-golden tales to spin. Come in! Come in!”

     — shel silverstein

stuck in bed

this is what last week looked like.

{I, appropriately, was elephant}  and all this bed confinement got me feeling quite sorry for myself. but then i remembered this quote:

Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift…that’s why it’s called the present

-master Uguay

{kung foo Panda}

such words are hard to believe on a day like today

when it feels like i ate a dead hamster for breakfast.

but i gots to stay positive 

cause soon my sickness will subside 

and the universe will trade the nausea, 

for basketball sized boobs.

which, contrary to poular belief, is not a gift

but a curse!

but OOOOOOH babies!!

...that is how I know today really is a gift after all :)

why fathers are important...

"Look, I don’t have a lot of personal life experience, but if i have learned anything from my “SIMS” family…it's that when a child doesn’t see his father enough, he starts to jump up and down, and then his mood level will drop….until he pees himself."

— Liz lemon

{find a shout out to the dads in my life here }

love notes by erin.

{picture by naomi davis }

Last week i asked you ideas of ways you show your love.  One of my favorite responses came from the very lovely ERIN...just read how sweet this is:

"My grandfather used to hide 'love notes' made on an old school label-maker (the kind that embosses the lettering) around the house. They all say "Joe loves Dot" and the date he printed it. My parents live in my grandparents' former home, and I love opening up a random cabinet and finding his little love notes."

pretty things.

{photo by this amazing photographer. who's blog is here } 

thanks anonymous ;) 

"A thing of beauty is a joy forever." ...unless it's a vase of flowers, cause then after a while it just smells like farts.

—john keats

{and then me}