It is a beautiful day here in Sparkle City, South Carolina. The wind is blowing, and the birds sound like the soundtrack to The Masters Golf Tournament.
I read somewhere that when networks are showing golf and the birds aren't singing up to par (get it? Up to par?), they will pipe in additional bird chirps and tweets. Bird watchers all over America were up in arms one time because the birdsong that accompanied the golf broadcast came from a bird who didn't live in that region of the country. Evil TV networks. I totally side with the birdwatchers on this one.
Anyway, it's been about three or four weeks since last I blogged, and I was finally feeling inspired, so I came outside for a little time alone with my thoughts and the iPad. I had just formulated something brilliant which I would record for future generations when my daughter came out with the dog and said she (the dog) just threw up all over the rug.
So instead of blogging, I will now go inside the house and do what I And many other moms do best: Gripe while cleaning up someone else's mess.
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