Frankly Mr Shankly
So, this mornning I walk into the boys' bedroom to help them get dressed. I notice that on top of Gabe's dresser is a collection of pictures of me, some of them several years old, some predating his own existence. A shrine to his Poppa! Including this one:

I don't remember where or when that's from, but them're definitely my feet.
(Why do feet inspire the use of bad grammar? They always seem to for me.)

Honestly, who wouldn't want a shrine to me?

Here's an mp3 clip of my "Let's Subvert American-style Christmas" Xmas song. (Only for the iron-eared or tone deaf. It's that bad): XmasSongDemoClip.mp3