The Perch Party

Mother Goose smiles when a small idea becomes a BIG production!

It is a fact of nature that people, plants and animals start out tiny and then grow into miraculous and wonderful living organisms, and it was a fact of life yesterday that a little plan blossomed into a wonderful and loving Perch Party.

Knowing that David (a U.S. Marine who has fallen on rough times and has no home) likes perch, the wheels in the feathery head of Mother Goose began to turn. What kind of perch is best to serve? How do I prepare it? Where will I purchase it? And can I even do this, having never cooked fishy things before except those easy and adorable fish sticks from Captain Gorton?

Enter Kevin, my comrade from Easter Seals and a lifelong fisherman and outdoorsman. His recommendation was to serve up Lake Perch as fresh as I could possibly muster. Of course, Mother Goose is NOT one to hold a fishing pole, especially in single-digit weather conditions.

However, a quick side note: Brother Goose and his dear wife have done MUCH ice fishing this winter in their really nice camper/ice house. With cousins and friends, they pull their camper out three or four miles onto some GREAT big lakes in nordern Minnesota and set up a little fishing town where they conveniently fish from the comfort of their warm rolling home and watch NASCAR races on the big screen.

But oh my gooseness, I digress…

Mother Goose happily added Kevin to the guest list, knowing that his cooking expertise would be valuable in the preparation of The Perch. And then the wheels turned a little bit more, and Mother Goose remembered her friend, Ms Murriel, who absolutely LOVES to cook for people and lives to see the happy faces of folks who have eaten more than their fill of a good dinner.

Mother Goose invited Ms Murriel who immediately offered to bake a lemon meringue pie. Everybody KNOWS how much Mother Goose loves pie…

All of the puzzle pieces for the Perch Party were in place — fish bought and breaded, spaghetti water boiling, salad tossed, pie chillin’ and we ladies chatting in the kitchen, waiting for the gentlemen to arrive when all of a sudden the phone of Mother Goose rang! I missed the call, but there was a voicemail from David saying that he was having phone problems, trying to reach Kevin, and would be on his way to meet him there.

But we didn’t know where “there” was, and we could not figure out where David was and would Kevin please find this man and please deliver him to the Perch Party SOMEHOW.

And Kevin did. Kevin always rescues somebody — he is one of my most special heroes, and you can go read more about him by clicking here…

Oh the food was delicious! If anyone ever asks, Lake Perch is about a thousand times better than ocean perch which is why Mother Goose capitalized it. And the meatballs and sauce prepared by Husband Goose — mmmmm, he’s got that recipe down just fine. And the bottle of German wine that Kevin provided was the perfect complement to the dinner. And I don’t even need to tell you how Mother Goose swooned at the first mouthful of lemon meringue pie…

But, my dear and loyal readers, what set this Perch Party apart and above and beyond all normal meals was the delightful and thought-provoking conversation and loving fellowship around the table. Sometimes the food can be tasty, the music playing softly in the background, the candles lit and glowing brightly, but the dinner falls flat because there is no love.

We enjoyed an abundance of love at our Perch Party. The Lord lavished His grace on us, and our conversations were sprinkled with the sweetest words of wisdom and kindness. There was much laughing and a little teasing and a heart-felt camaraderie amongst us.

Can a goose get anymore grateful?

Thank you for coming to The Perch Party of Mother Goose…

Brother David, Husband Goose, Ms Murriel and dear Kevin.

Brother David, Husband Goose, Ms Murriel and dear Kevin.

Tonight, It’s Perch


Mother Goose had the idea — invite David to dinner. When she asked him what she should prepare, he quickly replied, “Perch.”

You will certainly remember David as being the veteran who I found out was spending the nights sitting up and sleeping at the “Dunkins”. This week, he has been staying at our mutual friend, Kevin’s place, so I also invited Kevin for perch.

What the guys don’t know is that Mother Goose has also invited our mutual friend, Murriel, who will help with the preps and serving of the perch…

This is going to be a really great dinner party for all of us — stay tuned as Mother Goose takes a chance and makes a mess of perch for her friends…

Art Matters to a Goose

Many of my loyal readers have asked, “Mother Goose, does art even matter in this high-tech society?”

This story will address that question, and I’m sure that my most astute readers will already know the answer…

Mother Goose was kindly invited to join her friend, Linda, and Linda’s dear daughter, Sarah, on a trip to visit Chicago’s world-reknown Art Institute. Because I live in Oak Park (which is actually the center of the Universe), I was able to easily catch an “El” train downtown whereas my two lady friends had to ride in to the city from the far distant suburbs on a Metra passenger train. I arrived at the museum several minutes before they did and was able to take an early morning picture of one of the iconic lions.

You can almost see a lion behind the iconic head of Mother Goose...

You can almost see a lion behind the iconic head of Mother Goose…

The ladies arrived in due time, and together we began our exploration of the ever-growing and ever-changing Art Institute of Chicago. We made a unanimous decision to run quickly to the place of the special exhibit, “Impressionism, Fashion and Modernity”.

This exhibit was wonderfully educational and inspirational. We ladies especially love the Impressionistic style of art — in fact, it’s really the only part of the museum that we ever see. Something about the colors, the great globs of paint, the light in the paintings, the Frenchness of it all. We absolutely adore Impressionism!

This exhibit looks at the fashion of the time, French haute couture, of course. The paintings are arranged topically and with the added bonus of seeing the actual dresses from those fashionable times. What a thrill to see the painting alongside the actual dress worn by the model in the painting! Mother Goose nearly fainted from the historic wonder of it all.

Unfortunately, photography was not allowed within the area of the special exhibit. We frowned and made little mutters about that strict rule…but as soon as we left the special exhibit, our 21st century cameras clicked crazily in all directions. Well, actually, only the camera of Mother Goose was flashing and clicking as Sarah’s REALLY nice camera died of uncharged battery syndrome.

Let’s just let these photos speak for themselves…

"At the Moulin Rouge" by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec

“At the Moulin Rouge” by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec

"Water Lilies" by Claude Monet

“Water Lilies” by Claude Monet

"Cafe Singer" by Edgar Degas

“Cafe Singer” by Edgar Degas

"Two Sisters (On the Terrace) Plus one" by Peirre-Auguste Renoir

“Two Sisters (On the Terrace) Plus one” by Peirre-Auguste Renoir

Does art even matter?

If you ask these ladies who laughed, lushed and looped around the Art Institute of Chicago for more than five hours without even realizing how quickly time flies when you’re loving art, the obvious answer is a loud honk and a resounding, YES!

P.S. We also toured a related exhibit: “Undressed: The Fashion of Privacy” which explored informal dress and undress. Mother Goose was asked to stop her gawking and twitters in these galleries — seeing so many nudes makes a goose giggle nervously.

When the Goose Goes to Racine, Wisconsin

You meet the nicest people on Facebook!

Here’s a little story for you this morning:

Once upon a time, the brother of Mother Goose along with his dear wife adopted a fine young English mastiff pup from a breeder family in northern Wisconsin. They named him Harley Windsor of Sturgeon, and he grew up to be an excellent helper to Dana when he is working on his mud racing truck.

Harley and Dana working hard on the racer.

Harley and Dana working hard on the racer.

Through some interesting online connections, we all came to know the ladies who adopted two of Harley’s sisters.

Stella and Chelsea

Stella and Chelsea

The girls just adore their Auntie from Minnesota!

The girls just adore their Auntie from Minnesota!

My dear sissy has been down from nordern Minnesota visiting Mother Goose this past week, so we made a special trip up to Racine to visit the girls. Racine is a nice town plopped down right on the eastern coast of Lake Michigan, just over the border from Chicago. They have lovely empty beaches and rainbows in Racine.



We had a lovely dinner at Oh Dennis! where they specialize in ribs and steaks of various sizes, shapes and designs. One thing that Mother Goose learned is that you can’t tell a book by its cover in Racine, Wisconsin.

Yuuuup, yeah hey the food is pretty darn good, eh?

Yuuuup, yeah hey the food is pretty darn good, eh?

We left Racine with THREE quarts of homemade dill pickles, THREE amazing and authentic Danish Kringles from Bendtsen’s Bakery and hearts full of love for our kind friends who we would have never met except through the magic of Facebook. Thank you, Tammy and Carmen, for showing this goose and her sister such a great time in Racine!

Tammy, Carmen and a happy piglet

Tammy, Carmen and a happy piglet

The Night Goose

We could almost call this The Lost Weekend of the Goose! The fun of the wine tasting party was just the beginning of a wild weekend for the Gooses — the good times just keep rolling on and on!

Yesterday was a glorious 63 degree day in our fair town — Mr. Goose found it appropriate to get his golf bag out one more time and enjoyed time chasing the little white ball around the course with his friends.

Of course, Mother Goose deemed it much more to her satisfaction to apply her “mystery shopper” skills to an afternoon in the city — I successfully spied on many grocery store employees, coercing them with many prompts for product knowledge, samplings and escort services within the store. I am still amazed and grateful that they pay me to do this!

After going our separate ways for the day, we regathered in the Goose home and prepared for the next big adventure — dancing the night away with friends, Michael and Amy.

When Michael informed us that we’d meet at Venuti’s Vlounge at 10:00, we had some reasonable doubts about our ability to meet this social obligation. The bedtime of Mother Goose hovers around 9:30 any given night of the week! However, I love a good challenge and was feeling spunky. Mr. Goose was not feeling quite as energized as Mother Goose, but after a long soak in his whirlpool tub with the extreme jets pounding into his aching muscles, he recovered nicely and put on his dancing shoes.

Away we went!

Mother Goose assumed that we would be dancing to the music of Frank Sinatra, Tony Bennett and maybe some swing tunes. After all, this is a place called Venuti’s, obviously Italian, obviously suburban, obviously a place for an older crowd (late middle-age…) to gently kick up their heels and waltz gracefully around the dance floor.

Classic Italian architecture, so festive for the holidays!

Classic Italian architecture, so festive for the holidays!

In other words, we were not prepared for the DJ mix at the Vlounge or the flashing disco lights or the steady pounding and pulsing beat of this modern dance club.

But we had a great time nonetheless! One thing about Mother Goose, she can easily adapt when her expectations are skewed by her reality. I tasted a nice glass of pinot grigio and shouted some nice conversation with Amy and Michael.

Amy and Michael

Amy and Michael

Showing off their modern moves...

Showing off their modern moves…

As soon as I heard the remix of Prince’s “When Doves Cry”, I dropped my glass and went charging out on the dance floor. (Prince sounded good thirty years ago, and no matter how you remix him today, he still gets my heart pumping and my knobby knees thumping.) In my zeal, I knocked over a couple of thirty-something women. They were tossing their bleach blonde coiffure and showing off their shapely young legs and moving with all the latest gyrations.

“Look out!” Mother Goose honked at them and stepped over them. “It’s my favorite song!”

Mr. Goose and I stayed on the dance floor until Prince was finished with his song, and then the music morphed into some other heavy beat but we didn’t even notice because we were lost in the magic of the moment. Smiling happily and moving somewhat in time to the music, we each went into our own private worlds of old school dancing. There’s a time for dialogue in a night out, and then there’s a time for just being cool and showing off. Mother Goose tossed back her head, threw her wings in the air and acted out all of her nightclub fantasies there on the dance floor.

Of course, the dance floor immediately cleared out, giving Mother Goose more room for her private dance show.

I remember applause. I remember seeing stars. I remember thinking that maybe I was the star of Dancing With The Stars.

I remember Mr. Goose quietly leading me back to the table whilst the other dancers applauded and cheered. We said our goodbyes to Amy and Michael, and I waved happily and smiled for the cameras of the paparazzi as we left the Venuti Vlounge.

You may know me as Mother Goose, but some call me The Night Goose…

Mother Goose barely broke a sweat in all of her dancing exertions...

Mother Goose barely broke a sweat in all of her dancing exertions…

The Faithful Friend of a Goose

Once again, Mother Goose must honk the praises of a very fine feathered friend. Michelle has been interested in me for such a long time — it’s almost scary to think about the years that have passed! When our middle children (Ben and Ellie) still had their long curly blonde baby hair, Michelle and I became BFF’s, and that was long before BFF’s were as common as they are nowadays.

Michelle and Mother Goose

She’s an incredible woman (as are all of the people who would consider a lifelong commitment to a goose), and she’s precious in so many ways. Let me count the ways right now, whilst I’m thinking of them:

1. Michelle is kind and thoughtful. She has helped me to pack up my kitchen more than once when I was moving. She has brought our family more meals than I can count and baked us more muffins than there are stars in the heavens. She writes me letters and sends them through the mail. She always remembers to ask about each of my goslings even though they are numerous.

2. Michelle is faithful. I know that Michelle is praying for Mother Goose. Perhaps she has even prayed life into me when I was feeling as droopy as a ragdoll. Her conversational prayers are not showy and all high-falutin’ and fancy like some churchy people — she talks to God wherever she is. She knows that He’s there too so we might as well talk to Him. Her husband was unemployed for more than a year, and Michelle never stopped believing that he’d get called back to his airplane mechanic job at United Airlines. Guess what? That’s where he is now!

3. Michelle is generous. Whenever I visit her, she gives! She gives hugs like they are going out of style. She gives whatever’s in her fridge or pantry. She gives little scraps of wisdom that she finds and saves just for me. She gives blankets, Fisher-Price kitchen sets, smiles and heart-to-hearts.

4. Michelle is brave. For as long as I’ve known her, Michelle has had ongoing troubles with bipolar disorder and needs to take various medications to stay stable. And like Mother Goose, she has a multiple sclerosis diagnosis on a medical chart somewhere in some neurologist’s office. Her migraine headaches are relentless in their attack, and sometimes her hands tremble. But does she ever complain about these ailments? No. Never. Not once. She takes it all in stride, trusting that tomorrow will be better.

If Mother Goose was to identify Michelle as a certain type of bird, I would call her a Purple Finch. She’s lovely and sociable with such a pretty song to sing. When we were neighbors in Carol Stream, I would enjoy hours of listening pleasure with the finches AND with Michelle. I pray all sorts of blessings on her today and everyday!

My finch of a friend, Michelle.

The Puck Stops Here

You just never know where Mother Goose will be next! A college hockey game, Mother Goose? Seriously?

And yes, indeed, that’s where you could find the goose last night — in attendance at a DePaul University hockey game with friends, Doug and Debbi Brooks. (Many of my faithful readers will recall that Debbi is a professional photographer.) This friendly couple have two sons, James and Steven, who are both amazing hockey players. When Mother Goose asked Debbi what position Steven plays on the DePaul team, she proudly answered that he’s on defense, number 24 — it’s the number he’s worn on his back ever since he was a little hockey mini-mite.

The evening began at the Brooks’ home with warm pulled pork sandwiches, UNBELIEVABLE scalloped taters and taffy apple salad. Just a tiny side note: Mother Goose made the taffy apple salad remembering how tasty it is and how it REALLY does taste like a caramel apple. When I was finished with the preparation of the salad, I taste-tested it. “Oh how delish!”

I was happily honking about it, when suddenly I realized that my mouth, tongue, throat, lips and nose were itching terribly…and then the remembrance came into my smallish goose brain that with the advancement of my years, I’ve developed an allergy to raw apples. HONK!

But everybody else enjoyed the salad, and the dinner was a smashing success! Off to the hockey game!

Oh! Here is another side note: Mother Goose is originally from northern Minnesota where little boys and girls learn how to ice skate before they can walk, and hockey sticks are common Christmas gifts for two year olds. If you are an old avid hockey buff, you may recognize the names of Joe and Pat Micheletti, professional hockey players in the 1970’s and 80’s. This legendary hockey family is from Hibbing where Mother Goose graduated from high school.

Please be patient — I’m really taking the long way around here, but Mother Goose played flute in the Hibbing High School Bluejacket Marching Band, and we never missed a hockey game. No, we did not march on the ice, but we did play peppy songs whilst the guys skated madly back and forth, up and down the ice. We did not even mind when our fingers stiffened up and our lips (and beaks) froze to our instruments.

I hope you’ll enjoy these pictures from last night’s DePaul hockey game — Mother Goose was completely tipped over by all the action, and could barely follow the puck as it was shot all over the rink — by the way, DePaul whupped the Illini 5-0.

Steve Brooks #24 DePaul University Hockey Team

Total hockey action

Intense hockey action

The team played really well, easily defeating the Illini

Debbi had the big guns out for this game!

The Zamboni is covered with images of food from the Peapod company. THAT’s something you don’t see everyday!

Very proud parents of defensive line player, #24.

With an easy victory under their belts, the team left the rink and changed into normal clothes. Defeating the Illini with a score of 5-0 proved once again that DePaul Hockey is a satisfying sport for the young men. Also, I’d like to say that with the NHL lock-out still on, college hockey is a GREAT alternative. They play aggressively, but they also play nice. There were no fights, and only the most minimal checks up against the boards.

Mother Goose was quite comfortable with the level of play, and easily adapted to the chill of the rink and the explosions of pucks hitting the plexiglass repeatedly.

We returned to the Brooks’ home for dessert — a beautiful and fine apple pie, vanilla ice-cream, chit-chat and steaming hot coffee.

Check out the pretty little cut outs — Debbi made this from scratch!

Beyond the Blue Horizon

In respect for Petty Officer Zane Stotesbury, regular programming can wait until Tuesday morning. My prayers and love, Mother Goose

See you in the bright and distant morning, young sailor.

Mother Goose Addicted?

In the spirit of all good Twelve Step Programs, including Alcoholics Anonymous…

“Hello. My name is Mother Goose, and I came here this afternoon to admit that I am an ice chewer.”

The first step is always to admit that you have a problem. Yes, I have that problem. Even now, as I type this sentence, I am thinking about ice, cubed and crushed. But the good news is that I am getting free of my addiction; in fact, I’ve gone nearly 48 hours without chewing, except for a small bit of Joe’s slushy yesterday which I dumped in the sink as soon as I got home.

“Mother Goose,” you ask. “How did this happen? Why did you start? What was missing in your life that you needed to turn to ice, cubed and crushed?”

I can only hang my head in shame.

Like all addictions and OCDs, it all began so very innocently. It was a warm day in Oak Park, and I needed to cool off. I walked to the refrigerator and held my cup under the ice-maker spout. The ice cubes happily chunked out and into my cup. I added some water. Mother Goose is in the stage of her life when “hot flashes” are an issue, so sucking on ice cubes and drinking ice water throughout the day seemed reasonable. In fact, it seemed practically medicinal!

When the ice cubes became soaked in water and softer, I would chew them. They crunch so well between my teeth, making a satisfying solid sensation. Within the span of a few short days, that crunch feeling combined with the cooling effects of the ice became an unusual obsession for Mother Goose.

I was sneaking ice. When nobody was looking, I’d get just a few more cubes in my cup. I would hastily steal other people’s ice from their cups when they weren’t looking. The middle of the night ice. The first thing in the morning ice. The cup of ice for the road. One for the car. One to take along on my walk. Two for the afternoon baseball games, one for the movie theater. It was becoming so overwhelming.

I walked into a bar, and honked, “Gimme a cuppa ice, and make it snappy!”

Oh poor Mother Goose…her large rubbery feet were taking her down a very slippery road. Many of her family and friends expressed concern, even alarm, as she consumed more and more of the frozen substance. Even my precious nine year old AnnaRose googled “chewing ice” to find out what she could do to help her mommy.

“Please, Mom, at least eat it crushed instead of cubed,” she pleaded with me.

I’m so embarrassed to say that Mother Goose simply shrugged her shoulders and greedily took another cube into her mouth.

And then the side effects began to bother me. The constant chill in my mouth caused 24-hour dry mouth syndrome. I bought a special mouth spray product to help with that. See how one problem can lead to many? And then my tongue became sore and inflamed — no amount of pain relief gel could ease my discomfort….or my guilt.

The syndrome of ice chewing is an OCD, an obsessive-compulsive disorder. It even has an official medical name, Pagophagia. Chomping and chomping, day and night, for weeks now Mother Goose could not bear the thought of having an addiction. I was living on ice and denial.

“Seriously,” I told myself and others. “This can’t be a real problem.” Twenty years ago, I quit smoking cigarettes. That was a real problem, and it was very difficult addiction to quit. How would I be able to kick this new habit? Is there even a “patch” for this?

Mr. Mother Goose has tried to reason that there must be a logical explanation, an underlying medical condition which lays just below the surface of his wife’s problem. He has consulted with women friends, and has been told that Mother Goose must be anemic. Surely a daily iron pill down the gullet will refresh her and cure her disorder within a month. Though I certainly do appreciate that diagnosis, I must point out that Mother Goose has been a blood donor for over a year, and my blood is checked every three months for anemia. I have never been told that I have low iron, or even borderline low iron. We must dismiss that diagnosis…

I can only confess that I am a goose with a problem. I can only take one day at a time to get over this. I would humbly ask for your prayers for strength and courage to overcome my addiction.

My family, I beg your forgiveness. I now realize how badly I have hurt you, how selfish I have been — thinking only of myself and where I’d get the next cup of ice. How could I have been so misled to think that chewing ice could solve my problems? Please forgive me and please give me another chance to prove that I’m a healthy goose with a good grip on life, that I don’t need this ice crutch anymore.

Tomorrow, we’ll look at “Coping with the symptoms of Menopause — healthy alternatives to ice chomping”. I hope you’ll return for that informative post.

In the meantime, please share with Mother Goose your own personal experiences. Are you a recovered ice chewer? Do you have other OCDs you’d like to discuss? Is there a better way to cool off? Is there hope for Mother Goose?

Never a Plain Jane

She was born with a fancy name, Jane Marie Belongea. Though she entered our world in the usual way, she was in Wisconsin. And if she stayed there, she’d never meet Mother Goose. So after many teenage adventures, Jane learned the trade of fashion design, earned the degree of textile delights and moved to Illinois, where I was already waiting for her but she didn’t know it.

Because we were both living incognito lives at a local grocery store, she as a Salad Bar technician and Mother Goose as a Bake Shop clerk, Jane and I immediately recognized in each other the mysterious presence of the Holy Spirit. There is sometimes a wonderful, knowing look in the eyes of a new friend when you just know this is going to be good.

We shared a back room, behind-the-scenes work space at the grocery store. It was a dark and stormy evening outside, but where we worked the air was filled with the sounds of laughter and camaraderie as I prepared the bread and rolls for baking and she assembled hundreds of chef salads.

Suddenly Jane shrieked in horror — I went running to her side. “What is it, Jane dear? Are you OK?” I asked with much concern.

“I’ve lost my heirloom pearl earring,” she exclaimed with great sadness. “I thought I was wearing it when I got here, but now it’s gone. I’ve looked on the floor, but I just can’t find it. Do you suppose it fell into one of the salads?”

Mother Goose looked at her new friend with amazing compassion. “I will help you find it,” she offered.

Jane smiled gratefully.

Together, the two friends opened and perused the hundreds of pre-made chef salads. With our delicate touch, we carefully dug through the cheese, the turkey and ham strips, the hard-boiled egg halves, the lettuces and carrots. For hours we searched for the lost pearl earring — salad after salad — trying not to disturb the artfully arranged beauties in their clear plastic houses. The pearl, the pearl….where can the pearl earring be?

Of course, we never found it….because it was at Jane’s house, lying on her bedroom floor where she had accidentally dropped it!

And so began our sweet, always interesting friendship which has amazingly lasted nearly twenty years.

She was hysterically present at the birth of one of my babies. She designed and stitched my most recent wedding dress as well as several other fancy dresses for me. She has always been a great source of inspiration and good cheer. She has weathered many storms and tragedies. She has redefined and redesigned herself so many times, I have nearly lost count of her many identities. Oh, but she has always remained a true sister in the Lord.

Here are just a few of her many personas — you may begin to think that she is like poor Sybil with all the fascinating characters she has living inside of her:

Bridal and formal wear designer
Salad bar technician
Personal tailor to a well-known midget gentleman
Loving mother
Faithful wife
Wilderness camp director
Missionary to the children of Cabo San Lucas, Baja, Mexico
Professional stylist to Christian recording star, Virginia Hill
Devoted coach of the high school girl’s track team
Stephen’s Ministry counselor
Avid cross country skier and able canoeist
Licensed real estate professional
Amazing and forgiving friend…

We don’t see each other often because of our crazy schedules, but Mother Goose is all in favor of a good texting session. Just last Saturday we brought each other to tears of joy and incontinence with the following text conversation. The cell phone of Mother Goose sometimes predicts what she wants to say — with hilarious results. By the way, we were attempting to encourage one another with some paraphrased thoughts from God’s Word…

Jane: Hey sweet dear Mother Goose…hope u r doing well! Sorry for the late response… working 3 jobs lately…LOTS of hours…coming to an end soon! Luv u!
MG: Oh precious friend…let the joy of the Lord be your strength
Jane: Oh ya! He is sew faithful!!! 🙂
MG: His mercies r new every morning!
Jane: Shelter in the time of need!
MG: By his grace I can leap over the wall
Jane: Praise the Lord, I heard His call
MG: He rejoices over us, singing love dongs
MG: Ha ha songs
Jane: wat r love dongs?
MG: I’m laughing so hard, tears
Jane: lol!….ouch!
MG: Kum BA yahoo my lord
MG: OMG hilarious
Jane: Tears…!!!!!! Wetting pants now!
MG: Thx for the laughs honey
Jane: U too!
MG: Love u Jane Marie dear
Jane: 😀

Overjoyed with Jane.

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