And the best way to start is to hit... Start. And up comes the toolbar. That's what she said.

As most of you probably know, I suffer from lepidophobia. I know. At times it is nearly debilitating. Like when a bird-sized moth flew into our friend’s house. I tried to hide from it while the boys (who were also freaked out, I might add, with good reason, the thing was a real-life Mothra, its nasty body was the size of a fist) attempted to usher it back into the Jamaican wilderness. Someone finally had the presence of mind to turn off the light, and Mothra went in search of brighter bulbs. I did not sleep all night, thinking that every bug, lizard, and frog bumping into the walls was Mothzilla, returning to exact its revenge on us for swatting at it with hats and dirty t-shirts. This happened months ago and I am still a bit shaken. Anyway, I’ve always been a bit ashamed of my inability to deal with the appearance of grotesque flying worms. Today I was vindicated by SpongeBob. He and Patrick (the starfish, not the lovable human) were terrified when a butterfly got loose in Bikini Bottom. The whole town was thrown into a panic until the Texas squirrel thing came and captured the monster in a jar. I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed watching cartoon characters in an uproar over a “harmless” creature. SpongeBob and I both know that the scaly winged terrors are far from innocuous. If you disagree, then you should google “fear of butterflies.” There you will find long lists of losers who have formed help pages and internet support groups for those of us who keep constant vigilance for moths and butterflies. I must say that this didn’t make me feel as good as the cartoon did. I know I am irrationally afraid of creatures that most people find “pretty,” but I see this as quirky rather than weird. Especially since I embrace slimy scary animals. This makes me more interesting than pathetic like the people I googled, right? I may also be a bit scared of cats, but everyone knows they are spawn of Satan. So they don’t count. Man, Bret Michaels likes the hussies. He definitely sent the prettiest girls home first, and kept the scrappy, wily, streetwalkers. Maybe that is why he is so unlucky in love. I guess you guys are probably more interested in what is going on here in Jamaica rather than in Bret’s love mansion. We were able to watch the Super Bowl. Power only went out twice and then only briefly. However, we did not get most of the commercials. Instead, we got the same three terrible Coors (yuck) Light commercials…in Spanish. They looked lame, but maybe they were hilarious, how would I know? Pretty excited about the Giants winning. Both P and I called it. It was a wonderful end to a lovely day. We may not have had cake, Ma, but I did make Patricio a whole batch of cookies for his very own. Now, 12 hours and half a tub of cream cheese mixed with most of a can of chili later, he is incapacitated on the couch. We did make an excellent dinner including surprisingly delicious Swedish meatballs and mashed potatoes. Funny story, P was in the back seat of a taxi when two other Jamaicans got in and forced him into the middle seat. The driver looked over his shoulder and began laughing hysterically, managing to stammer gleefully, “oreo cookie!” Heehee. I will conclude this decidedly hodge-podge email with yet another abrupt change of subject. So I don’t know if you all have looked at P big sis’s blog, but you should, the kiddos are pretty darn adorable. Apparently, Caroline’s baby brother is a bit of a chunk. Perhaps, but as chunky as his uncle?! You be the judge. (This is Patrick at 3 months, by the way.)


Although let's hope little James Patrick doesn't share Uncle Patrick's awkward stage. What was he wearing?

I'd like to sincerely thank my source for these priceless photos!