I am sure that little boys are the best of Gods creation. Don't get me wrong, I love little girls too, but little boys are just tops. I know 3 three year old boys, and they have the funniest sense of seriousness. Everything is so amazing, or cool, or serious. Life is big, and little things are such a wonderful big deal. One of them is very much into Buzz Lightyear, and every time I see him he says "Come on, we gotta find Zurg! To infinity, and beyond!"
One of them said to me today "I got a Hulk."
"A Hulk?" I said in amazement.
"Yes, and he's very cool. He's so cool, and green, and HUGE!" he exclaimed, his eyebrows touching his hairline.
"Wow, that's cool."
"Yeah. He's very cool" he agreed, flashed a grin, and scampered out.
I think I'll have a whole bunch of boys, and figure out a way to keep them 3 years old.

Do you ever suddenly realize that you don't know yourself half so well as you thought? The story of your life is playing out, and something happens, that makes you stop and look at yourself a little more closely. "Oh," you say in surprise, "I didn't know you were like that. Is there anything else I should know before we continue?" And it might not be necessarily bad or unpleasant, just enlightening. A reaction you have, or a conviction you discover you strongly hold to, the fact that you can suddenly raise one eyebrow - anything, really. I think it's fascinating that we still have so much yet to learn about everything, even ourselves.

My little sister entered a Mr. Potato Head contest last night, and WON! HOORAY, HOORAY, HER POTATO WON THE DAY!
Hers was definately the cutest potato there. She glued red yard on it for hair, and put a mustache and gotee on him, with marshmellow eyes - I never thought a potato could be cute, but hers was.
But she only won a jump rope. I think they should have given her at least a $20 gift certificate to Wal-Mart.
I love kid stuff.

Isn't it interesting how, if you live in a small town, you can follow the lives of complete strangers?
You notice when the bankeress gets a new shirt.
You notice when the produce stocker boy graduates into a checker.
You notice when the cute guy at the store works during school hours, because this means that he is over 18.
You notice when the person you always see in the library gets a haircut, or new shoes.

Then you start to wonder - are you just abnormally observant? or are people noticing things about you too? And if they are, what kinds of things are they observing? Hm. I... love ... small... towns...

We have a dog. Everyone loves our dog. Except me. I do not love the dog species. I don't know exactly why; they just irritate me. When the dog barks, he irritates me. When he jumps around and gets mud on me, he irritates me. When he gets in my way in front of the gate, I am definately irritated. However, there are moments of near-affection displayed on my part, such as me throwing his amazingly slobbery ball for a full ten minutes. He loves me very much when I do that.
One day, I was finishing math homework. The room was so desperately stuffy, that stepping outside and breathing the air was marvelously refreshing. Our dog ran up and panted his bad breath violently in my face. I looked upon him, and said "Louis, can you appreciate how lovely and clean the air is? Or do you notice at all?" Upon these words being spoken, a poem presented itself to my mind. I do not usually write poems about animals, but I don't have the heart to refuse Inspiration access to my brain, so thus this little work was born.

Ah, Louis.
To live
To feel
The air to breathe.
A fragrant
wind
my soul does feel.
But nought,
methinks,
you understand;
You lack the
breeding
of
a man.
An animal in
every way,
Your chief desires -
Eat and Play.
Poor Louis.
Immense my pity,
though,
may be,
Still not enough
to favor
Thee.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"

He took his vorpal sword in hand;
Long time the manxome foe he sought -
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
He chortled in his joy.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

- Jabberwocky
by Lewis Carroll