Oh, the anxiety!! Our homestudy is tomorrow, and, of course, I am completely freaked out about it. Cory is far more zen-like in his approach so at least one of us is calm(ish). I, however, have decided that something is going to go terribly wrong--this whole experience has been pretty smooth, so the other shoe has to drop at some point, right? And for some reason I have convinced myself that the problem is Maggie, our 11-year-old furbaby. She is known as the Photoshopped Dog (my sister's nickname), as she has a spaniel face, a lab body and toothpick legs, with large ballbearing google eyes that generally point in opposite directions. She’s a beaut, let me tell you. As she is regularly beaten up by our cats I don't know why I am convinced that she is going to leap into action, Cujo-style, and disembowel the social worker, but there you have it. If you haven't met Maggie yet, here is a picture:
She had a long day of hiking and digging trenches in our campground, and was tired and cold. This picture just screams fatherly love, doesn't it? Someone get this man a baby, and make it snappy!!