The difference between a CHUNK and a HUNK is a C and a few pounds!

Tacumwah last night on top of the cabinets.

Tacumwah

Mommy is uploading two photos of Tacumwah today because she thinks she finally took some photos of Tacumwah where she doesn't look mean.

Mommies are going to the farm today to take photos. It is very cold out. I am glad I do not have to go out. Tacumwah is snuggling with Little Bear on the wool blanket that has become a permanent addition to the sofa. Marquette is curled into the back of the swivel rocker. My new favorite place is the comforter on Mommy's bed though, right now, I am dictating this post to Mommy from across the living room where I am curled up on the recliner.

Mommies are drinking caramel lattes and Mommy Bonnie is doing work for her job.

You know...the only difference between a Hunk and a Chunk is a C, right? How awful that we label people. I get called a chunk all the time. Mr. Chunkie. I hate it. Let's drop the C already. Better yet, let's just call me Possum.

See if you can guess who this was written for:

He has a killer body
that is sleek and muscular
from tip of nose
to ends of toes.

I love his perpetual grin,
slightly lopsided.
You are never certain
what he has been up to.

And his swagger!
As though he is packing
more between his legs
than he can comfortably carry.

A sharp dresser always,
with every hair in place.
Mischief twinkles in the eyes,
of this little twin I love.

He walked out of the woods
and straight into my heart.

How about this one:

The pudgy twin,
not long and sleek,
not built on stilts,
he hugs the ground.

So grateful for everything,
so humble, so accepting.
Wanting to be loved
and even more to love.

Putting himself last,
he never complains.
He lives for the moment
and loves unconditionally.

The twin who had to
struggle on his own
so he might appreciate
that family is everything.

He is the whipped cream and cherry
atop the sundae that is our family.

~There is no such thing as a free kitten!~