That's funny....I never saw a "For Sale" sign...

Huh. What's one to think when a band of trolls move in to one's sinuses? They've successfully installed plumbing through my cheekbones and forehead. It runs into the roof of my mouth and then hangs down, as though abandoned, in the back of my throat. Apparently, trolls are not the greatest of plumbers.

Funny thing is, Jenni has it too, and she's nowhere near me geographically. Lots of families at church have had this particlar band of gypsy trolls setting up camp, going from house to house, ransacking faces and leaving great heaps of runny crud in their wake. And everyone I see on the networking site I stalk check out from time to time seems to have the invasion of trolls, too.

Are they aliens? When did they land? Who turned my face into their own personal real estate? And why didn't I see a sign??

At any rate, My Frog made a gigantic pot of the Ultimate Troll Weapon: chicken soup. Ha. Take that, Trolls!

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My Monkey had his BIRTHDAY on Wednesday! He is now officially 3 years old, which in his book CLEARLY means he's no longer a baby. I might find room to disagree.

The Frog made a cake for him. She's quite a hand in the kitchen, thanks be to God. Here's what she came up with:


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This evening, My Darling has taken our big girls on a date. Not just any date though--this is the Annual Father-Daughter Dance, which is a big stinkin' deal put on by our home school group. It's quite the tete-a-tete. The girls get all gussied up (and I mean that as a a fact; I did, indeed, gussy my girls' hair, for Pete's sake!), and the Daddies all wear their Sunday best. They all come together with their desserts and hor d'eurves in the gymnasium of a Catholic grade school, and dance the night away thanks to the bumpin' tunes played by a DJ from a company that uses mostly oldies.

*Shwew*!!

And what does this leave?

A Mama at home with two boys, neither of whom are feeling particularly well, and a very small Snuggle Bug, who yesterday turned 3 months old. Or, as my Dad would have said, 25%.

She's feeling fine, thanks to Mama Milks--or Ohs, as we say in these parts. I hope it continues, because I don't know how much more Troll Goo I can clean up.