Overnight I developed a fever blister on my lip the size of Mt. Chirripo. Probably from all that chocolate candy I ate yesterday! I haven’t had one of these babies in years, but whenever I do, they are doozies. As if they are making up for lost opportunity between eruptions. Remember in Alien when the guy had the baby alien on his face? That’s what I look like.

My husband, who gets a real kick out of himself, took to naming my adornments because they were so huge. He’d name them Chester. Or Lloyd. Then, of course, he’d start referring to me as "y’all." As in, "You and Lloyd, y’all need anything from downstairs?" The little boys would get a REAL kick out of this. They’d all just laugh and laugh. Don’t you love hearing your family enjoy those real belly laughs?

This morning, they were all standing around staring at me’all and decided Lloyd wasn’t a big enough name for this baby. They pondered for a moment, tossing out suggestions, finally deciding on Llewellyn.

"Maybe a walk would make you and Llewellyn feel better."

"You and Llewellyn look like maybe you could use an aspirin."

"Y’all look kinda pissed off."

Isn’t that nice they had such a good time? No wonder I’m depressed. My angel Leah, the only one who still cares about me, brought over some magic cream that has reduced Llewellyn to a Lloyd. I will be beautiful again in no time and those boys will be sorry they made fun of me. I know they will be sorry because I hid the rest of the candy, including the double stuffed Oreos. Llewellyn and me, we can be vengeful.


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