I have searched our entire 700 sq. foot space and cannot find my childhood scrapbook, so I can only conclude that it grew legs and walked out. But imagine if you will, the vintage scarf pictured in the banner, tied over the head and under the chin of the small hula-hooper on the right.
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I am not a gardener in any sense of the word. When my husband comes back from being out of town, he doesn't bother to ask if I've watered the plants - he just grabs the water bucket and does it - first thing. I forget we have plants, although I like them.
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At Mile 15 in last year's Bataan Memorial Death March, you came to walk beside me. I could see faint images of you on either side of me. The only sound, however, was that of my feet on the dusty rocky trail at White Sands Missile Range.
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