Loren found my spoon!

I was talking to him, asking him if he'd gone to the second hand store to see if he could find that box, when I suddenly got a second image:

The spoon, pressed up against the clear plastic front of those drawers.

I told him, begged him to go look, and he told me he hated me, and sent me a picture of the spoon sitting on his desk.

Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!

Loren is my hero, even if he's full of hatred and spite. ;)

Spoon, spoon, I can't wait 'til I get to eat ice cream from my spoon!

That's the best. My little green bowl, and my little silver spoon, and a mound of chocolate ice cream.

But the spoon is the most important part. It doesn't mangle the icecream like regular spoons do because it's edge is quite thin (but strong!), and it's handle is super strong and never even thinks about bending.

Dear, dear, lovely spoon!

(I know, I know. As Loren said: "I must say, you have some strange attachments to the funniest things." And as I said: "Well, I could be attatched to worse stuff." Like drugs. Or cigarettes. Or shopping.)

Speaking of ice cream, I think I'm going to attack that Haagan Daas in my freezer again.

I tried to pig out the other day out of self pity or something, but barely made it down an inch. It was soooo rich.

But I felt better, for what ever reason. ;)

.

Rosie.

PS, Send me the first letter, Candace!

PPS, We could start two games, eh?

PPPS, And Chelsea, if you're reading this, reply to my letter already! Oh, but I've moved, so email me first to get my new address.

Before&After