We’re about an hour and a half away from dinner. Everything is done or just needs to be put in the oven, except the potatoes. My brother and I are sick and the Butcher claims he’s not sick but he’s acting like it.
But…
Because everyone is feeling crappy, which in our family means that we are getting along.
Right now, they are bagging on Bret Favre. Ha.
Tiny Cat Pants 