Happy Birthday, Momma. I miss your laughter every single day. I know you hated your Christmas Eve birthday, because it meant fewer presents. But, you were the gift.
If I could go back in time, I’d remember to tell you that. Thank you for teaching me how to laugh, how to love, how to spell, to stand up straight, and to not pick my nose (in public).
Here are two versions of your favorite song. You thought that Night Train was “the sexiest song ever played.”
Dance up a storm.
Other posts you might enjoy:
- Shelly Needs To STOP Referring To Herself In The Third Person
- This One’s A Booger
- Another Requiem, Too Soon.
- “Miracle” Headache Cure
- Advertising Is Not Rocket Science, BUT…
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