Happy Birthday, Rebekah.

I can think of several different things to write about today. Really, I can.

I was going to tell you how the Tennessee Titans are 9-0 and my husband has just about decided to put our house up for sell and move into the club seats at LP Field.

I was going to tell you how we all curled up on the couch this weekend and watched 88 Minutes with Al Pacino. And how the Academy of Arts and Sciences would probably like to write me a letter and ask me to refrain from watching their awards program ever again due to the fact that I find Al Pacino to be one of the worst actors I have ever seen.

Or I was going to tell you how my mom called me on Friday morning and the first thing she said was, "Hey baby, are you busy? Can you talk?" To which I said, "Well, no, it's not really a good time. I am running into the pediatricians' office. It's freezing and raining outside, Remi's crying and I'm trying to feed Rocco." To which she replied, "Okay good. Listen, I was wondering...do you think you can make me a hair appointment when I come in for Thanksgiving." I love that woman.

But I'm going to be honest. My fingers will not allow me to type anything but this...

Please go here and read my friend Teresa's blog.

Do it for me, because I love her.

And because she's worth it.

And because even if she's not, Rebekah most certainly is.

And then leave her a comment and let her know you came by; a "Happy Birthday, Rebekah" will more than suffice.

Teresa and I have similar foxholes. And I am proud to call her another Soldier In Arms.
So scoot over, Teresa, you are not alone.