
Will the gentle people from the United States yield for a question? If a little-known rep from a non-headline-making state wants to get into the history books for all his descendants to see, what should he do?

Amen.
My daughter said to me "I think you'll be sunshine." 'What?' from me. "When you die, and you come back to visit me, the way David visits Daddy as a bird. I think you will be sunshine." Unrequited joy.

There's only one tree on my block with leaves on it. It's in front of my house. It drops a seemingly never-ending shower of leaves on the lawn that my husband so painstakingly cares for all year long. Raking is futile. I shouldn't find that funny, right?
I'm having an incredibly hard time releasing my daughter into the world, even just a smidge, so she can have a little freedom. I've become a storied clown fish on this issue. Funny.
The tepid temperatures, while gorgeous and silky and sumptuous, are enjoyed with a modecam of modesty. Either they are a generous gift from God, a benevolent, unexpected respite to distract from all the other woes and worries - OR - they are a sign of the end of days. Tough one.
I've regressed from my earlier statement about staying home on Thanksgiving to wear comfy pants and eat pie. Having family and friends in the house on holidays is part of the whole thing. Somebody talk me off that ledge, please!
At what point do you call it quits and realize that no amount of cleaning will ever render your house clean? I believe I'm nearing the finish line and I just want to know so I can do a little 'woot woot' dance.

Totally plan on writing a book. Any second now. As soon as I can collect three or four thoughts that go together and make sense. Might not be any second now.

Let me guess: Sara made the comment about you being Sunshine...
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