When She’s Gone

Cati and the peanuts are still in Spain; and still, I am not [double entendre?].  But hey, duty beckons– we Americans didn’t put a man on the moon by taking vacations.*

This picture captures the all-too-limited extent of my interaction with my beloved “crew.”  I miss ’em sumthin’ awful; how lucky we are to have Skype though– it really helps.

Don’t worry about them; they are alright.  Here’s another Skype snapshot as proof:

To avoid being a fool who uses himself as an attorney**, I’ll employ Bill Withers to sing my case for me.

Sing it, Bill!

Hurry home, girls.

*Everytime I utter this sentence, and I do so often, Cati rolls her eyes in a long and archicing fashion.

** A laconic aphorism from someone more clever than me.

5 Responses to “When She’s Gone”

  1. Cati says:


  2. Cati says:

    BTWs, we’re coming home soon!

  3. Lydia says:

    AWWW………….you’re making me sad! I miss my girls too!

  4. Gina says:

    Cuties! All three of them!

  5. Teresa says:

    Muchas gracias, Yerno Hermoso!!! Es mi mejor medicina! Tu sabes que te quiero mucho.
    Tu Suegra (también Hermosa)