To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time, And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more; it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.
Me playing putt-putt
What my niece did during her "naptime" hehe (click on the next 3 pictures to get the full effect :) )
Carnations I got for Mother's Day~ The white one in memory of my "mom" Charlene and the red one in honor of my mom, Anne
Made possible by Gretchen at 5:33 PM
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