Dear Marc, I'm happy for you. I had a dream that you were back with Preston, and indeed you are! Congratulations. You look amazing. Congratulations again. Love (and proximity to handsome porn stars) becomes you.
Meanwhile, in Swedenland, we celebrated Midsummer's eve. A day when we dance around a giant pole cross, with a crossing pole penetrating two delicate rings of flowers. It's a pagan fertility rite, and there's nothing subtle about it.
Let me tell you the day in pictures. The kids spent their days in trees.
I found a new, yet old, baby sitter for Joel.
We ate traditional Swedish party food. Potatoes, pickled herring, hard boiled eggs, crisp bread. It makes you wonder what the traditionalists ate for their everyday meals. It's tasty but harsh. On an average day, what did they eat? Cardboard?
I served pie.
It was much appreciated. Plate licking good.
For dinner, the grill was out, because the food was supposed to be smokin'.
Apparently, this also went down well.
I thought I had more pics. But this was it.
Love, and once again, congratulations.