Well, I tried my hardest to find a smart and snappy photo to accompany this here blog entry (see above google search captioned in the headline), but came up empty. I came up with a number of strange photos though, including one that seemed to suggest that blondes (spell check tells me this is an incorrect spelling, makes me nervous, but I'm going with it) actually do have more fun. Lame joke. Where's the laugh track? I think I'm making myself embarrassed, I can't imagine how you feel...
So Rachael is back at home, in her familiar confines, sans bedpan and feeling good. There is nothing to complain about. Rachael and I both feel blessed (never used that word before) that she has been able to carry these babies into the middle of the 34th week. All kidding aside, she has done a great job and is truly amazing.
Now. Pause. breathe. Let the sentimental moment take hold.
This is the band that I want to leave Rachael abandoned and bedridden to see tomorrow night at the Grog. I wish I was heartless enough to do it.
I have wanted to see this band for years. Sacrifice.