Yago just set up our wireless last night so I'm not longer having to write and fight Ralphie for the trash can at the same time. He just woke from his morning nap and is upstairs babbling (loudly). I'll let him babble for a few minutes...
I spent the last few days trying to squeeze a pimple on my lip, it's finally exploded to a full blown coldsore. Yuck. They're so gross and I hate the stigma attached to them. The first one I got was in fourth grade or something, it's not like I was doing nasty things. Why does a person feel so ashamed to have a coldsore?
Last night I made homemade focaccia again, that stuff is evil good. I can eat the entire loaf/batch whatever. Sam helps me and we have a good time making it. He pokes the indentations, brushes it with olive oil, and sprinkles the parmesan cheese on top. It's so tasty.
Well, the babbling has turned in to crying and shouting. Time to go.
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