Blast from the Past

I've been busy scanning pictures over here at Neenaw's.  She's starting to think my butt is glued to the computer chair.

My tragic past

Here we are, on the patio, almost twenty years ago - me, Melanie, and The Missionary.  One thing I probably never told you about The Missionary is that he had a giant cotton ball for a head.  He was really helpful when I needed to take my nail polish off, but whenever I kissed him, I always got cottony fluff in my mustache.  That's the real reason why we broke up.  I finally thought, "I can't live my life like this" and told him to take his giant cotton ball noggin and hit the road.  He said, "It's because my head is a cotton ball, isn't it?" and I said, "Yes.  I'm sorry but it's just not going to work."  I figured, why lie?  Eventually he'll have to deal with this cotton ball head thing and maybe he'll do something about it.  What he could do about it, I don't know.  I do know I wasn't prepared to deal with a lifetime of being married to someone I would have to make excuses for.  "He can't sing in the choir, he has a cotton ball head."  "No, I have to be the breadwinner because he has a cotton ball head."  "I'd let him change the baby, but he can't really see what he's doing because of the cotton ball head."

Instead, I married Bunny, and it all worked out for the best.