200
200 years. Today marks 200 years since Joseph Smith, the prophet of the Restoration, was born.
Mr. Coffinberry and I celebrated the day with a trip down to the temple in Littleton. It was a particularly special trip, because some close friends of ours were having a special ceremony to celebrate the adoption of their youngest son. It was an emotional occasion. For a second day in a row, I shed many tears.
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In other news, poor Shadowfax got a hot surprise when he decided to jump up onto the table this evening. Mr. Coffinberry had just set two pizzas hot from the oven on the table, and had turned to tell the kids to come for supper; I was fetching the pizza slicer from the kitchen drawer. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a black and white streak do a somersault in the air, land on the floor, and zip down the stairs. Looking over the counter, I see the reason for his sudden acrobatics - two footprints squashed through the cheese, hot tomatosauce oozing between toe marks. Poor baby. He was licking his paws all evening. (I thought about cooling his paws with water, but I prefer unshredded skin, thank you very much.)
As for the pizza, we just cut out the stepped-on-parts and ate it anyway.
Mr. Coffinberry and I celebrated the day with a trip down to the temple in Littleton. It was a particularly special trip, because some close friends of ours were having a special ceremony to celebrate the adoption of their youngest son. It was an emotional occasion. For a second day in a row, I shed many tears.
***
In other news, poor Shadowfax got a hot surprise when he decided to jump up onto the table this evening. Mr. Coffinberry had just set two pizzas hot from the oven on the table, and had turned to tell the kids to come for supper; I was fetching the pizza slicer from the kitchen drawer. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a black and white streak do a somersault in the air, land on the floor, and zip down the stairs. Looking over the counter, I see the reason for his sudden acrobatics - two footprints squashed through the cheese, hot tomatosauce oozing between toe marks. Poor baby. He was licking his paws all evening. (I thought about cooling his paws with water, but I prefer unshredded skin, thank you very much.)
As for the pizza, we just cut out the stepped-on-parts and ate it anyway.
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