On another note, isn't this the cutest little pineapple you have ever seen? Ever since we moved to the tropics, Mr. E and I have been having an on-going argument...er discussion...about whether pineapple grow underground like potatoes (his opinion), or above the ground like, say THIS rogue pineapple (my opinion). I mean, have you ever had to brush dirt off your pineapple? Neither have I. I think this picture settles it.
Tuesday, February 24
Traumatized by previous post...
Sorry people, I've been so completely bugged about my last post and it's messed up alignment that I've been discouraged from subsequent attempts at blogging. But, in the words of my charming 16-year-old, "Some people have real problems, Mom." So I'm back in the saddle again, armed with the five hundred or so unpublished photos I finally convinced tech-support (said 16-year-old) to upload, all of them itching to get published. (I jest about the number of photos. It's more like four hundred.) Oh, and if you're wondering why I haven't bothered to comment your posts as you so faithfully do mine (even horrendous scrambly ones), it's this simple: It has taken many years to teach me how to make a text box in Word (something I still cannot do unaided), and when I read your beautiful entries and admire your pictures and anecdotes and get all warm and fuzzy inside and itch to leave an eloquent reply--I cannot for the life of me find the comments page. Much less create one. My apologies.