Tib mouthed these words while she nursed her latest brood:
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death.
Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more.
It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
Do you see what I’m working with here??
She just gives and gives AND GIVES.
Ah, suckle away…

See how I give and give and give??
At least I have feet.
Oh, and Jen and I chose the cards for The Spring Release!











(I was just as stoic as the woman in the above illustration while they performed my surgery. Eyes wide open, no tears.)