Taxing

Tax season is probably the worst stress on my marriage (maybe a close second to moving). I am very proud because this year I used the F-word only three times on the subject. This is an exponentially great improvement over years past. Maybe by the time we hit our 50th anniversary, Scott and I will have paid our taxes in full, on time, and without exchanging a single cross word. I dream of that lovely day.

Here are some baby feet: