While I’ve been in and out this week, one of my paralyzing fears is that I’d miss a story of such importance that it’d shake our national identity right down to its very core. I’m talking about a story that once the ashes settled, the way each and every one of us looked at the importance of life would never be the same.
This isn’t that story, but haha, look at her butt. A baby came out of it.
(Okay, so maybe this post did have some gravitas. I’m my own worst critic.)