Happy Birthday, Linds!

It's my older sister's birthday today.  Happy birthday, Lindsey!

I thought I'd share a little of our "good old days":

We each had our own issues -- Lindsey with her fingers, me with my binkie.

But who cares?  We were so darned cute!  And sweet, too.

We always found intelligent, exciting ways to occupy our time out on the farm.

And we've always had a great backside.

We have always been at the height of fashion.

And we've got talent to spare.

Here's to the good old days!

It's "Miss", Please

This is a note to all of you young service people (usually boys).  You know who you are.  The ones who bag my groceries, check out people at Office Max, workers at Target asking me if I am finding everything okay.  Yeah, you.  I'm talking to you.  I know that I may have a few laugh lines, my boobs may no longer be in the upper-half of my chest, and I drive a mini-van, but I am only 31 years old.  I am not old enough to be your mother.  I don't wear clothes from the old lady section yet.  Nevertheless, it seems that lately, even when I don't have my 5 children trailing behind, leaving a wake of destruction in our path, that you have the audacity to call me "Ma'am".  You should know that every time you do that, it makes me want to hurt you.  A little tear escapes my eye when I get into the mini-van I swore I'd never drive.  Then I go home and run another two miles on my abused treadmill.  I pull out my college ID card and wonder what happened to that girl.  So please, for the sake of my sanity, from now on, it's "Miss" -- not "Ma'am".  Thank you.