#238

Hi, all.
Here's where you'll find most of our creations. . .

. . .and we have some little gee-tars made by yours truly listed on etsy. . .

Yesterday was our daughter's 18th birthday, and it will be remembered as the day her boyfriend gave her a black eye. No, it's not what you're thinking. If it were, I'd be writing this newsletter from jail. The way it really happened was all very innocent, and a complete accident. They were just roughhousing. No, roughhousing is too masculine a word for what they were doing. They were giggle wrestling and her boyfriend's noggin landed a blow to her face that knocked her glasses off and made her eye swell up something fierce. Happy birthday!
We are less than a week away from our big move to Sherwood, Oregon, and about 90% of our belongings are already in the garage waiting for me to back up the U-haul. The remaining 10% of our belongings still in the house make the place look like it's inhabited by squatters. The computer is on a folding table, and the laundry is in garbage bags. We are living in a no man's land between the old life and the new one. While we're still here, I've been riding my bike to the beach every opportunity that I get. I will sorely miss the beach. Where else can an oddly dressed man walk at 3 AM without looking suspicious?

-Dylan