Thursday, December 19, 2013


Being pregnant just gives me ENDLESS writing material.  At 37 weeks I'm more or less in the clear to go into labor. As you can imagine the sheer belly size of third trimester makes any kind of physical intimacy with my hubby an act of creativity and physics, usually resulting in just a nice moment of cuddling. 

Oh Charlie Hunnam...please find a less violent show soon so we can be together.

This last week, however, I'm experiencing a surge of hormones that has me looking at my husband like a big cartoon ham. He's been growing his beard out too. 

In short, I'm a little boy crazy. This post is dedicated to all the men making me swoon. In the event my juicy ham is reading this, don't be jealous, sweetie. . . I assure you this is going to work out in your favor. 

George. Long-haired hippies, please apply

 Weirdies who shred on guitar. Yes, yes. 

Colin Kaepernick. Tattooed pipes. Go niners. 

Boys who rock buns. Hawt.

Tattoo'd super dads. Mmmhmm.

Ragnar and your savage ways. Quit looking at me like that. (And bring your brother). 

Johnny. Always and forever. 

Fifty is my new age ceiling. Happy Birthday, Brad. 

Adorable nerds. Yep. 

Jack and Sawyer. Oh Kate, boohoo, poor you. 

Oh damaged. Just this once. 

Okay maybe one more time. 

PS. All image sources except the ham can be found here

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