Sunday, November 6, 2005

Walking Uterus

"Almost twenty-six, Belle," my cousin intoned, downing the last of his Busch beer. He looked out over the stone terrace, to the hills of Vestavia and let out a long, hollow belch. "When are you gonna pop out a few babies for the family to enjoy?"

Back down South for a long weekend... I've crossed the Mason-Dixon and, once again, been relegated to the status of a walking uterus.

Back to the Big Apple on Tuesday...

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