Cullen was playing "baseball" (really just underhand pitching, hitting, and retrieving) with Stuart last night, when our last wiffle ball rolled under the porch. It was far out-of-reach, and dinner was almost ready anyway. So Cullen explained to Stuart that it would be better to go inside for the time-being, and worry about how to get the ball out
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Oh wait...you meant human bones... if you could always do something like this
http://images.travelpod.com/users/john_and_chloe/1.1248669649.kutna-hora-bone-coat-of-arms.jpg and use it as a selling point for your home. There *have* to be some goths in Ellsworth that are in the market for new digs :)
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leo would be game (the child loves balls, chasing things, and little hiding places), but i'm going to have to say no this time...i mean the airfare alone is equivalent to a lifetime supply of wiffle balls. :)
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