How's the baby?
Howsthebabyhowsthebabyhowsthebaby. Oh, you meant Mischa. I don't think of her as "the baby" anymore even though that's what she calls herself. "A baby loves momma," she says.
There's been another baby.
Allan Johnson died Sept. 4th.
I read a not-very-good book. I saw it at Walmart and just thought it looked interesting. Two little girls lost in the woods. One doesn't talk. Oh, but it turns out that she doesn't talk b/c she watched her baby sister be stillborn. And the town they live in? Willow Creek. And Willow Creek Woods and the place they play is Willow Wallow. So, one dead baby and my dead baby's name a few hundred times. I finished the book in two nights just so I could be done with it. (I couldn't just stop reading and leave those two little girls in the woods. I needed to know what happened to them.)
Night before last I cried and cried until I fell asleep. I cried and my heart ached. A literal pain in my chest. I wonder if that's anything like what a heart attack feels like.
