instead of weeding the garden beds

The other day my four year old daughter screamed and pointed to the TV. “Daddy! I just saw Gravedigger!”

My work here is done. My relationship to GraveDigger is well documented, and I’ve passed the gene. Rock.

—we’re not actually GOING to the monster jam even though every single year I ask for monster jam tickets for Valentine’s Day. For several years the excuse has been “I didn’t think you were serious!” but this year he’s changed it up a bit and now we’re not going because people keep getting called back to heaven while innocently trying to enjoy an up close look at a the bitter rivalry between Gravedigger and Maximum Destruction. (I”m not linking to MD because I am loyal) And since we don’t believe in heaven my husband’s not sure where we’d end up. What if he had to go all What Dreams May Come on the situation- who has time for all that?

I bet my family’s sure where I’d end up, though! Hey, family! If I go missing, make sure you direct my husband where to find me. I bet you’ll know the way.


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