Smarch lives on

Without fail, Smarch reminds me of McBones, the scrumpiest friend I have. Hi TN, if you read this, I miss you and our bantering. I also miss Haribo Smurfs candy, and drinking on the Seine, but that is a different story for a different blog post. 

There is the Scrumpster himself, pouting in Rome no doubt because his gelato fell off the cone or because we had to go see yet another art museum or because his anti-frizz serum no longer worked. 

Smarch is half over. We did it! Hoorayyyyyyy now let's take a nap.

PS: I happened to post this at 4:20pm. COINCIDENCE? I think not.