This is Ivy-girl, with her knee socks and Elmo underwear, and a plastic bighorn sheep. She posed dramatically and did modern interpretive dance moves, and told me about the neighbors' dog, and out of all the pictures I took, for some reason I chose this under-exposed one. I like it. It looks like dusk actually looks, on the late summer afternoons when you stay out until Mom says you have to come in and take a bath.
I have made a helpful graph for Heath to refer to regarding how I'm feeling. Perhaps it will save me some whining. Now that I look at it, it looks a bit like a watermelon, the very thought of which makes me queasy, because it is not an english muffin or a glass of ginger ale. The writing is very tiny, but I don't want to make it bigger, because then it would be a very big watermelon.
I am glad that Ivy is so charming and amusing, so as to remind me why I'm so happy to feel like crud.
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