Thursday, July 28, 2005
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Piddling Affairs
Tomorrow I go in for pre-op, which means waiting, filling out paperwork, and probably getting my vitals checked. The hospital has to check to make sure I'm fit for surgery, and of course, that my insurance will pay for it. Then I get to drink potassium citrate and have an enema. Reamed in more than one way. Add to that the joy of having only clear fluids tomorrow (I asked Eric, "does vodka count??"), and I'm going to be one bitchy person tomorrow. But hallelujah! Friday I get my "fundament" repaired, as my grandmother would say. It will be good to get off the piddle pad regimen.
Last night, Logan and I watched Diary of a Mad Black Woman, which couldn't make up its mind between being a comedy or a drama. There were funny moments, but rather schmaltzy moments as well. Earlier, we had eaten the Tuesday special, $2.99 taco plates at Rosa's, with kids in tow. Monday, Logan left the kids at home and after picking me up from work, took me to eat fish and shrimp at Long John Silver's. Yeah, I know, no great shakes as far as the food goes, but Logan was making a point to spend time with me before my surgery.
I've been inexplicably nervous about this surgery. I'm not afraid of the actual operation, for I know the doctor is skilled - I've read up on him. I'm wary of being put under, and how my heart might react. I have no history of heart problems, but given my weight, cholesterol level, and blood pressure, I'm worried. Add to that the weird head things I've been feeling the last two days - dizziness, almost blacking out sitting here at my desk doing nothing strenuous, and feeling a burning sensation in my head along with a slight fever and headache - and I'm making myself paranoid.
Today or tomorrow, I have to get a will written, a durable power of attorney assigned to Logan, and decide what I want on a medical directive or "living will", should the worst happen and I end up in a vegetative state. It's not just the impending surgery causing me to think of all this, it's the fact that I've made contact with my son who was adopted out at birth and that I'm talking a lot more with Beth, and developing what seems to be turning in to a good relationship with her. I know I need to plan especially for Brighid and Weyland, since they are closer to me than my grown children, and know me as their mother, but I want to make some sort of provision for my first daughter and son as well. I just don't know what to leave them, since I don't have much of value. It seems ridiculous to make a list of all the various and sundry items, but I know how much ill will has been and can be caused by not being specific enough in one's will. I had two aunts who didn't speak to each other for years over a dispute about their mother's sterling silver charm bracelet. The main thing I want to leave everyone with is a warm place in his heart for me. (Ok, grammar police, "his" is correct - everyone = singular = his, for the masculine is correct when gender is not specific.)
I've told Logan that I want him and Susan to have final say in my funeral if they are both still around. I want a wake, a loud, boisterous, happy party. I ABSOLUTELY DO NOT want a somber viewing at a funeral home where everyone speaks in hushed tones, mumbling pleasantries, all the while wondering how long they have to stay for form's sake. So fer cryin' out loud, throw a party. With a three drink minimum. Spend the money on booze, music, food, and fresh flowers. I'd like a Dixie-Land jazz band, the kind they have in New Orleans, where they play music, carry umbrellas, and dance in the streets. I'd like a full gospel black choir singing "When The Saints Go Marching In". Hell, maybe even a mariachi band. But of course, a piper at graveside. I'd like to be buried in my Lindsay kilt or failing that, my favorite blue jeans. I want to be planted next to Pappy in a wooden coffin of the European style. Put coins on my eyes. Hire a couple of 20 year-old studly looking actors to keel and wail and throw themselves into the ground after the casket is lowered, just for kicks. But most important, I don't want a Baptist funeral or a Catholic one. As far as I'm concerned, the jury is still out as to whether or not there really is a god, so keep that in mind. It's ok to mention God in passing - cover all the bases, as it were - but for godsakes, don't make a production about it. Get the burying part over, and get on with the celebrating.
Last night, Logan and I watched Diary of a Mad Black Woman, which couldn't make up its mind between being a comedy or a drama. There were funny moments, but rather schmaltzy moments as well. Earlier, we had eaten the Tuesday special, $2.99 taco plates at Rosa's, with kids in tow. Monday, Logan left the kids at home and after picking me up from work, took me to eat fish and shrimp at Long John Silver's. Yeah, I know, no great shakes as far as the food goes, but Logan was making a point to spend time with me before my surgery.
I've been inexplicably nervous about this surgery. I'm not afraid of the actual operation, for I know the doctor is skilled - I've read up on him. I'm wary of being put under, and how my heart might react. I have no history of heart problems, but given my weight, cholesterol level, and blood pressure, I'm worried. Add to that the weird head things I've been feeling the last two days - dizziness, almost blacking out sitting here at my desk doing nothing strenuous, and feeling a burning sensation in my head along with a slight fever and headache - and I'm making myself paranoid.
Today or tomorrow, I have to get a will written, a durable power of attorney assigned to Logan, and decide what I want on a medical directive or "living will", should the worst happen and I end up in a vegetative state. It's not just the impending surgery causing me to think of all this, it's the fact that I've made contact with my son who was adopted out at birth and that I'm talking a lot more with Beth, and developing what seems to be turning in to a good relationship with her. I know I need to plan especially for Brighid and Weyland, since they are closer to me than my grown children, and know me as their mother, but I want to make some sort of provision for my first daughter and son as well. I just don't know what to leave them, since I don't have much of value. It seems ridiculous to make a list of all the various and sundry items, but I know how much ill will has been and can be caused by not being specific enough in one's will. I had two aunts who didn't speak to each other for years over a dispute about their mother's sterling silver charm bracelet. The main thing I want to leave everyone with is a warm place in his heart for me. (Ok, grammar police, "his" is correct - everyone = singular = his, for the masculine is correct when gender is not specific.)
I've told Logan that I want him and Susan to have final say in my funeral if they are both still around. I want a wake, a loud, boisterous, happy party. I ABSOLUTELY DO NOT want a somber viewing at a funeral home where everyone speaks in hushed tones, mumbling pleasantries, all the while wondering how long they have to stay for form's sake. So fer cryin' out loud, throw a party. With a three drink minimum. Spend the money on booze, music, food, and fresh flowers. I'd like a Dixie-Land jazz band, the kind they have in New Orleans, where they play music, carry umbrellas, and dance in the streets. I'd like a full gospel black choir singing "When The Saints Go Marching In". Hell, maybe even a mariachi band. But of course, a piper at graveside. I'd like to be buried in my Lindsay kilt or failing that, my favorite blue jeans. I want to be planted next to Pappy in a wooden coffin of the European style. Put coins on my eyes. Hire a couple of 20 year-old studly looking actors to keel and wail and throw themselves into the ground after the casket is lowered, just for kicks. But most important, I don't want a Baptist funeral or a Catholic one. As far as I'm concerned, the jury is still out as to whether or not there really is a god, so keep that in mind. It's ok to mention God in passing - cover all the bases, as it were - but for godsakes, don't make a production about it. Get the burying part over, and get on with the celebrating.
Thursday, July 21, 2005
Blog Envy
I tried several times yesterday to get somewhere on the Internet, anywhere, but kept coming up blank. It must have been stuck. I mean, I even tried running spybot, ad aware, and a couple other virus scanners on the computer, tried disk cleanup and defrag, and still couldn't get anywhere, even after re-booting a couple of times. I talked to Eric and Susan yesterday, and they had trouble as well, so I'm hoping it wasn't just inept me.
Yesterday, I had to go in for jury duty, got put into the replacement pool, and didn't get selected, so I went home, tried to nap, and ended up working all three crossword puzzles in the paper, and starting a pulp fiction kind of mystery book by Gary Krist called Bad Chemistry. I guess I just needed a little mental exercise and then relaxation. I read crap books for utter enjoyment, one of my few guilty pleasures (not that I have many besides listening to and owning records by The Bee Gees and eating ice cream from the container), since I always think I should be setting my literary goals at a much loftier level, but have yet to make it through the first page of Cervantes' Don Quixote without falling asleep, and have never made it past the first paragraph of War and Peace.
I read about three or four blogs on a regular basis, and am frequently confronted with an inane and pointless irritation - finding myself jealous of other writers. I'm either jealous that they can write so well, or I'm jealous that they have all kinds of cool experiences. I'm mean, it's truly pathetic to be jealous of another person's life, isn't it? Yet there it is. I'm not hip, urbane, living in a foreign country, working at a fantastic job, being madly courted by a suave, debonair chevalier, or having erotic poetry written for me. I'm starting to think that I need to get myself back into psycho-therapy to find out why I'm so dissatisfied with my life. Seriously, I'm relatively young and healthy, I have two beautiful children at home and two grown ones out on their own, so genetically, I'm successful, I have a decent job, a roof over my head, plenty to eat, clothes on my back, and several very close friends. So why am I feeling so empty? I'm having a sneaking feeling that another episode of depression is creeping up on me, and I'd like to be able to head it off at the pass.
It's been several months since I've been seriously depressed, and I usually get over it pretty quickly. I do one of four things, cry, eat, drink, or have sex, and that usually works to get me over a blue funk. But then sometimes I get a spell that's worse than normal, and it lingers for days, sometimes weeks. I haven't had one of those in several years, but I can normally feel them coming on, now that I know what they are. It just feels like I'm spinning my wheels sometimes, is all, I guess, and I don't know how to get out of the hamster habitat. I know these fits are probably fostered by outside situations rather than by a true bipolar disorder, but they sure make me feel manic-depressive. The impetus today was probably the discussion which would have become heated if given enough time (thankfully, arriving at work curtailed it) in which Logan and I had major disagreements over whether or not to buy the new house, buying a new car, and generally our relationship with each other.
I'd write more, but I feel like I might cry, it's so frustrating. Besides, I've only got 15 minutes left in which to grab some lunch, drink some water, and go walk. That, or read more of the trashy thriller....
Yesterday, I had to go in for jury duty, got put into the replacement pool, and didn't get selected, so I went home, tried to nap, and ended up working all three crossword puzzles in the paper, and starting a pulp fiction kind of mystery book by Gary Krist called Bad Chemistry. I guess I just needed a little mental exercise and then relaxation. I read crap books for utter enjoyment, one of my few guilty pleasures (not that I have many besides listening to and owning records by The Bee Gees and eating ice cream from the container), since I always think I should be setting my literary goals at a much loftier level, but have yet to make it through the first page of Cervantes' Don Quixote without falling asleep, and have never made it past the first paragraph of War and Peace.
I read about three or four blogs on a regular basis, and am frequently confronted with an inane and pointless irritation - finding myself jealous of other writers. I'm either jealous that they can write so well, or I'm jealous that they have all kinds of cool experiences. I'm mean, it's truly pathetic to be jealous of another person's life, isn't it? Yet there it is. I'm not hip, urbane, living in a foreign country, working at a fantastic job, being madly courted by a suave, debonair chevalier, or having erotic poetry written for me. I'm starting to think that I need to get myself back into psycho-therapy to find out why I'm so dissatisfied with my life. Seriously, I'm relatively young and healthy, I have two beautiful children at home and two grown ones out on their own, so genetically, I'm successful, I have a decent job, a roof over my head, plenty to eat, clothes on my back, and several very close friends. So why am I feeling so empty? I'm having a sneaking feeling that another episode of depression is creeping up on me, and I'd like to be able to head it off at the pass.
It's been several months since I've been seriously depressed, and I usually get over it pretty quickly. I do one of four things, cry, eat, drink, or have sex, and that usually works to get me over a blue funk. But then sometimes I get a spell that's worse than normal, and it lingers for days, sometimes weeks. I haven't had one of those in several years, but I can normally feel them coming on, now that I know what they are. It just feels like I'm spinning my wheels sometimes, is all, I guess, and I don't know how to get out of the hamster habitat. I know these fits are probably fostered by outside situations rather than by a true bipolar disorder, but they sure make me feel manic-depressive. The impetus today was probably the discussion which would have become heated if given enough time (thankfully, arriving at work curtailed it) in which Logan and I had major disagreements over whether or not to buy the new house, buying a new car, and generally our relationship with each other.
I'd write more, but I feel like I might cry, it's so frustrating. Besides, I've only got 15 minutes left in which to grab some lunch, drink some water, and go walk. That, or read more of the trashy thriller....
Monday, July 18, 2005
The Drama Queen Abdicates
Today, I'm feeling glad that my life does not have as much drama as it used to have. I keep up with a couple of blogs other people write, and I swear, if my life had as much drama as their lives, I'd be hospitalized for exhaustion. Mommy used to say be happy for boredom, as it means nothing terrible is happening. I've had my headlines, now I'm happy to just read them, though sometimes just reading them is exhausting, too.
Last night, I stayed up til 3 a.m. watching Dances With Wolves, only because Weyland started watching it, as he'd never seen it, but took off to bed when the kissing part began. I don't know why I got hooked on watching it 'til the end, since I've seen it at least three other times, but I found myself wide awake when it was over. I fell asleep quickly, though, thanks in part to taking my Neurontin and wearing the CPAP mask, since the sound of the air being pushed at me and being pushed by me out of the mask is oddly calming. When the alarm went off at 6:45 a.m., I hit the snooze, then again two more times before I managed to drag my dead carcass up from the mattress at 7:20 a.m. Gawd, I'm tired today. When I get home, I may very well just break the cardinal rule of no naps after 3 p.m. and take one. I'll probably sleep til midnight anyway, get up and pee, have a snack, and then go right back to bed.
I paid all my bills on Friday, paying a little extra on some to bring the balances down, and I have not quite $7 until the 1st. Gad. I'm dying for a Coke, as I need the caffeine kick to help me stay awake, but I just can't get myself to go downstairs and write a check for $5 or $6.
Logan and I have been going back and forth in our minds about whether or not to make an offer on the big house in Arlington. Logan finally said that if the house is still available at the end of the month, he'll make an offer. If this all comes to pass and we do get the house, it will be worth it in that our stress will be reduced by having more room, and a place for everything. I'm tired of living among clutter, tired of having tiny bedrooms and tiny closets. Our kitchen is not even big enough to have a kitchen table in it, and the dining room table is being used as a computer desk. I don't know how we got so much stuff, but I'd sure like it spread out.
This week, I have to get my paperwork in order - a new will and a medical directive with a durable power of attorney for Logan so that if anything happens, it won't be all left up in the air. I've seen what horrible things happen when people just assume their so called loved ones will do the right thing. More drama. And I want no part of that.
Last night, I stayed up til 3 a.m. watching Dances With Wolves, only because Weyland started watching it, as he'd never seen it, but took off to bed when the kissing part began. I don't know why I got hooked on watching it 'til the end, since I've seen it at least three other times, but I found myself wide awake when it was over. I fell asleep quickly, though, thanks in part to taking my Neurontin and wearing the CPAP mask, since the sound of the air being pushed at me and being pushed by me out of the mask is oddly calming. When the alarm went off at 6:45 a.m., I hit the snooze, then again two more times before I managed to drag my dead carcass up from the mattress at 7:20 a.m. Gawd, I'm tired today. When I get home, I may very well just break the cardinal rule of no naps after 3 p.m. and take one. I'll probably sleep til midnight anyway, get up and pee, have a snack, and then go right back to bed.
I paid all my bills on Friday, paying a little extra on some to bring the balances down, and I have not quite $7 until the 1st. Gad. I'm dying for a Coke, as I need the caffeine kick to help me stay awake, but I just can't get myself to go downstairs and write a check for $5 or $6.
Logan and I have been going back and forth in our minds about whether or not to make an offer on the big house in Arlington. Logan finally said that if the house is still available at the end of the month, he'll make an offer. If this all comes to pass and we do get the house, it will be worth it in that our stress will be reduced by having more room, and a place for everything. I'm tired of living among clutter, tired of having tiny bedrooms and tiny closets. Our kitchen is not even big enough to have a kitchen table in it, and the dining room table is being used as a computer desk. I don't know how we got so much stuff, but I'd sure like it spread out.
This week, I have to get my paperwork in order - a new will and a medical directive with a durable power of attorney for Logan so that if anything happens, it won't be all left up in the air. I've seen what horrible things happen when people just assume their so called loved ones will do the right thing. More drama. And I want no part of that.
Sunday, July 17, 2005
Why Bother?
I'm seriously starting to wonder why I should bother blogging. I go for days at a time either forgetting to do so, or not finding time to do so. Last week, for example, my youngest daughter turned 13, to no fanfare of any kind. That's because for over two months, she had been threatened with having her birthday cancelled if she didn't get her room cleaned. I reminded her regularly, once a week for six weeks, then once a day for a week, then several times a day up until her birthday. Come Bastille Day, her room still was dirty. Not just dirty, filthy, a health hazard. I can no longer enter without fear of falling and not being able to get up. No one would be able to find me, either, the clutter is so deep. There is a fruit fly infestation (which is what started my dire threat in the first place), things are lost, and I fear the two missing cats may have lost their way in there as well. I hate having to be Mean Mommy, but once I gave the "old tomato" (ultimatum), I had to follow through.
My thirteenth birthday went unnoticed by my mother as well. I recall my dad came over to chaperone the party held at the house my 17 year old sister and I live in alone, unsupervised, but he left around 10 p.m. or so, when the party broke up, unaware I was on my way to Mario's house less than a block away, where I was deflowered for my first birthday as a teenager.
Logan did bring home a chocolate cake for Brighid, but I suspect he used that as his excuse for buying it. It was a sinfully fudgey, chocolatey cake with shaved chocolate curls embedded in the frosting, and fudgey, gooey filling between the layers. Just a small slice made my teeth hurt. Man, was it good.
Yesterday, I embarked upon a cleaning jag. I took everything off the shelf Brighid broke in my nice wooden bookself, repaired (after a fashion) the shelf, and then rearranged the books so that the heavy ones aren't on the broken side. I went through scads of paper and mail, sorting it into recycle, shred, and file piles. I folded about four baskets of laundry and hope to get it put away today. I am quite the procrastinator when it comes to actually putting away the laundry. I've got a bit more to do tonight, such as take the trash from the bathroom and the bedroom to the kitchen, but after that, my room should be back to normal.
Logan has been looking at houses, and has found one that might work for us. It's in south Arlington, and has over 3400 square feet. That's more than triple what we have now. It would make a huge difference -- we'd be able to unclutter the house. Just having a kitchen big enough to swing a cat in would be grand, and having a huge master bathroom with double sinks and a giant bathtub would be wonderful. But it would cost around $600 a month at least, and I'm not sure we should take the plunge yet. The best idea is to spend a year paying down debt, getting our vehicle situation in good shape, and making repairs to the house we own now. But the idea of having a nice, new, huge house is almost too tempting to turn down. Logan thinks we'd be able to make some improvements to the house and be able to sell it for a profit in a couple of years. I'm just nervous about the whole thing, but I'm hoping the best thing is the new house. It would certainly help with the impetus to clean and de-clutter this one.
Well, I'm tired, and need to go fix dinner. More later.
My thirteenth birthday went unnoticed by my mother as well. I recall my dad came over to chaperone the party held at the house my 17 year old sister and I live in alone, unsupervised, but he left around 10 p.m. or so, when the party broke up, unaware I was on my way to Mario's house less than a block away, where I was deflowered for my first birthday as a teenager.
Logan did bring home a chocolate cake for Brighid, but I suspect he used that as his excuse for buying it. It was a sinfully fudgey, chocolatey cake with shaved chocolate curls embedded in the frosting, and fudgey, gooey filling between the layers. Just a small slice made my teeth hurt. Man, was it good.
Yesterday, I embarked upon a cleaning jag. I took everything off the shelf Brighid broke in my nice wooden bookself, repaired (after a fashion) the shelf, and then rearranged the books so that the heavy ones aren't on the broken side. I went through scads of paper and mail, sorting it into recycle, shred, and file piles. I folded about four baskets of laundry and hope to get it put away today. I am quite the procrastinator when it comes to actually putting away the laundry. I've got a bit more to do tonight, such as take the trash from the bathroom and the bedroom to the kitchen, but after that, my room should be back to normal.
Logan has been looking at houses, and has found one that might work for us. It's in south Arlington, and has over 3400 square feet. That's more than triple what we have now. It would make a huge difference -- we'd be able to unclutter the house. Just having a kitchen big enough to swing a cat in would be grand, and having a huge master bathroom with double sinks and a giant bathtub would be wonderful. But it would cost around $600 a month at least, and I'm not sure we should take the plunge yet. The best idea is to spend a year paying down debt, getting our vehicle situation in good shape, and making repairs to the house we own now. But the idea of having a nice, new, huge house is almost too tempting to turn down. Logan thinks we'd be able to make some improvements to the house and be able to sell it for a profit in a couple of years. I'm just nervous about the whole thing, but I'm hoping the best thing is the new house. It would certainly help with the impetus to clean and de-clutter this one.
Well, I'm tired, and need to go fix dinner. More later.
Thursday, July 07, 2005
I once was lost, but now I'm found
I found the missing sack yesterday. The croissants were moldy, but luckily, my needlework was safe in a plastic bag. I have sorely missed doing a bit of cross-stitch every evening. Funny how quickly one can get into a routine, and how much one dislikes a routine being disrupted.
The fridge cleaning I intended to do the other day didn't get done until today. Well, I admit, it's only partially done. All the science projects have been cleared out. What still remains is washing every shelf and drawer. I think those will get done one a day for the next week or so. It's such a pain in the ass (and the knees, the back, & etc.) cleaning those things, especially when some of them will have to soak in warm water because some child or Logan spilled something sticky which was allowed to set.
Since I'm having my fundament repaired at the end of the month, I'm trying to get some things in order such as getting a will written (just in case, not that I'm expecting it to), getting a living will made out, and on the day of surgery, signing a durable power of attorney so that Logan can have the plug yanked if something does go wrong and I end up gone while forgetting to die. I didn't think about this sort of thing when I was twenty. I might have accidentally gone ahead and grown up on myself without planning to do so. Scary thought, in some regards. Probably only 40 years left, if that much. That is scary.
The fridge cleaning I intended to do the other day didn't get done until today. Well, I admit, it's only partially done. All the science projects have been cleared out. What still remains is washing every shelf and drawer. I think those will get done one a day for the next week or so. It's such a pain in the ass (and the knees, the back, & etc.) cleaning those things, especially when some of them will have to soak in warm water because some child or Logan spilled something sticky which was allowed to set.
Since I'm having my fundament repaired at the end of the month, I'm trying to get some things in order such as getting a will written (just in case, not that I'm expecting it to), getting a living will made out, and on the day of surgery, signing a durable power of attorney so that Logan can have the plug yanked if something does go wrong and I end up gone while forgetting to die. I didn't think about this sort of thing when I was twenty. I might have accidentally gone ahead and grown up on myself without planning to do so. Scary thought, in some regards. Probably only 40 years left, if that much. That is scary.
Sunday, July 03, 2005
Random Notes
Tomorrow is July 4th, and the sailboat won't be ready. So I guess we're going to go up to the party at work and watch the fireworks and have a picnic. I'm seriously considering making a spiked watermelon: cut a hole in the top, pour in everclear, put the plug back in, let it sit & soak.
My surgery has been scheduled for July 29th. I'll go in bright and early Friday morning and stay just a day, provided everything goes well. I got the bill for the Urinary Distention Study - mein Gott in himmel! - over $3,000.00. My share, incredibly, is only $22.00. But $3,000.00 to measure how and when I pee in a cup?? No wonder a lot of companies can't afford to offer health insurance. I can't begin to say how glad I am my insurance is free. All the more reason to hang on to my job.
I've got to clean out the fridge, and I'm dreading it. It hasn't been done in at least six weeks, probably much longer, and it shows.
I cleaned my room the other night, and still haven't found the sack from Shellie's which had some croissants, a book for Eric, and my needlepoint. I'm starting to suspect Logan has alzheimer's, since he says he didn't move it from the back of the van, and I know I didn't. I seriously miss my needlework. I was cross-stitching some pillowcases in pretty colors of green and purple, leaves, vines, and grapes. No one seems to do handwork anymore, so I have to start back up. I've even been talking to the gals about us all getting together and learning to quilt.
Nothing much else of note, so I'll shut up now.
My surgery has been scheduled for July 29th. I'll go in bright and early Friday morning and stay just a day, provided everything goes well. I got the bill for the Urinary Distention Study - mein Gott in himmel! - over $3,000.00. My share, incredibly, is only $22.00. But $3,000.00 to measure how and when I pee in a cup?? No wonder a lot of companies can't afford to offer health insurance. I can't begin to say how glad I am my insurance is free. All the more reason to hang on to my job.
I've got to clean out the fridge, and I'm dreading it. It hasn't been done in at least six weeks, probably much longer, and it shows.
I cleaned my room the other night, and still haven't found the sack from Shellie's which had some croissants, a book for Eric, and my needlepoint. I'm starting to suspect Logan has alzheimer's, since he says he didn't move it from the back of the van, and I know I didn't. I seriously miss my needlework. I was cross-stitching some pillowcases in pretty colors of green and purple, leaves, vines, and grapes. No one seems to do handwork anymore, so I have to start back up. I've even been talking to the gals about us all getting together and learning to quilt.
Nothing much else of note, so I'll shut up now.
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