God is high in his heaven. But since I can't get there, I shall hie to Kolob. Reaching just as high as I can...
There are days (like today) when the burning question on my mind is what I would do if I didn't have children and a husband who bring home donuts and garlic bread slathered with butter or have birthdays and beg for Oreo-cookie-ice-cream-cakes from Dairy Queen.
You all know I'm a live-and-let-live kind of person, so I surprise myself sometimes with my visceral reaction against breast implants, liposuction, facelifts, and other types of elective surgery. It's not only that I don't think they're safe, or that their cost could feed a small village for a year, or even the standard feminist argument against them. There might be a teeny bit of "you-didn't-earn-that-body-by-slaving-away-in-a-hot-gym" to it all.
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