Eye of the F*$@ing tiger

It is possible that I will be singing this song until the end of time. But watching it live in full leopard print might have been worth it. So Spinal Tap (which, by the way, I remember watching in your living room so long ago.) Speaking of those days, remember this truck. She's still kicking it here in Montana and that's genuine keep-the-cows-out-bloody-your-hands-western barbed wire pilled in the back under all that snow. Ain't she purty.

Life is rolling along here. Eliza has learned to say don't. As in "don't touch my butt" which she said yesterday. I found her today standing on the kitchen counter, reaching for the cabinets above her head because she thought there was candy in there. She feeds Lyle with a fork and completely ignores me when I tell her not to. At 2.5 she sends me some days to the edge of reason.

And then there is her sisiter. Juicy is sweet and smiley and as mellow as a bunch of hippies at the country fair. I'll let you decide who's personality traits are at play in each of our children.

Well, since you are battling cancer and all, and because I think about you nonstop, I've decided to do something positive with my Jess energy. I'm going to learn how to cook. I heard you just now. That little half laugh. That audible "I don't know about that." Well anyway, it's true. I'm thinking of getting some books and maybe spending some time on the Cooks Illustrated website. You'll see. You concentrate on showing the big C the door and I'll make you something good. No backwood Southern shit, I swear.

And between now and then, if you want company on those Forest Park walks, holler. I'll be on the next train. I'm serious.

xoxo,

savage