I think perhaps we are beginning to take this whole "we don't talk to our families" thing a little too seriously. Ponder this conversation:

Me (to Daddy): When is the last time your Dad called?
Daddy: My birthday.
Me: When's the last time you called him?
Daddy: Right after we got back from Florida.

SO, that means it has been 174 days since Burgh Baby's Grandpa was last able to prove that he knew how to use a phone. And that makes it 127 days since we used a phone to call him. We are a pitiful lot.

While I am admittedly even worse about using the phone (oh, how I hate the things), I vow to stay in touch with Alexis when she grows up. In fact, I think I shall harrass her daily. As long as we are able to get her to move out, that is.

(This blog post brought to you by Daddy who requested that I add a countdown widget to the blog to count the hours/days/minutes since anyone called us. I opted to tone down his request since we are also guilty as charged.)

The pond? Looks really good this year. Alexis agrees.