Friday, November 18, 2011

At Death's Door

Warning and I'm sorry but you may not want to read the following because it is in no way light reading.

The thing that we have been dreading for months is happening.  QueenMaker's mom is in the hospital with end stage COPD.  I cannot convey the feeling adequately, but I'll try.  This sucks.

It took us by surprise, especially her.  We didn't realize that the final drop would be so great.  We expected it to be more gradual.  But one day she is coping well, the next day she hits the wall.  I decided to stay for many overnight stays. Reality hit me hard.  I thought I could take care of her and her needs but realized that it would take every last ounce of strength I had emotionally and physically to take care of her.

The other shock - the pain.  She thought that she would be just gasping for air in the end and they would quietly manage her symptoms and she would quietly slip away.  She did not expect the pain, the agony she would feel.  I sat with her, comforted her, talked her down from the panic attacks, cradled her like a child, calling her my baby girl.

The fall she experienced the other day sent her to the hospital. The pain became tenfold and she was denied her meds until they checked for broken bones. Finally the medication she so desperately wanted and begged for finally came giving her the relief.  This was so hard on her and hard to watch.

I cannot thank the hospice nurses enough.  They came to her home, helping to guide her, support her, and treated her with such kindness and love.  The hospital hospice nurses here are beautiful to me. They treat my mother in law as though she was an angel and that they are the blessed ones to have her among them.  Bless them indeed.

So here we sit waiting.  Hoping her eyes will open so we can say good-bye.  Waiting for the inevitable.   Waiting for her pain to end.  

And it sucks.

Monday, October 17, 2011

Short-Timers Advice

Time can not be wasted at this point.  It is running short.

To recognize this fact is to see all things anew.

I am surrounded by folks whose time is running short, my parents, my husband's parents.  When I worked at the bank it was located near two senior citizen high rises.  I met a lot people whose time was short.  And they always had the same advice.  And they gave it with a sense of urgency.  

That's why I listened.

They will tell you the truth about time.   Time should not be confused with the past or the future.  Time deals strictly on a now basis. They will make you realize that time is urgent.

For some the urgency drives them crazy because they can no longer control what happens in time. They can't ignore it anymore. It becomes the elephant in the room.

Sickness and infirmity keeps them from spending time well. Time is fleeting and they don't have the strength left to capture it again.  It becomes lost.  And they want it back so badly.  Some desperately.  They want time back to show how much they appreciate it now.

For some, they look to others to give them or help them fill time.  Sometimes, no one is willing to give their time.  No one visits.  No one is compelled.  There are no hobbies or interests to create time.  Time was not used wisely. Time was not honored for its potential to give and enrich. You did not take the time, so why should time or anyone else do it now.

For others, family and friends help to fill the time. Gifts of time are presented and offered with love and joy.  Time was used more wisely, and is much more hospitable as it marches along.  Time does not scare them as much.  They've used time wisely. They resign themselves and step in line and march along with time, sometimes hand in hand.

Time is not to be wasted.  That is their message.

Time should not be taken for granted.   She'll bitch slap you when finally after years, you take notice of her.  Time can also be very cruel.  That is also part of the short-timers message.

It is an abstract idea at first - what time is exactly.  Many look for a concrete example to understand it better.  So people measure it.  They put in on a scale.  As long as the scale says lots of time, they ignore it.  Time seems plentiful.  There is no urgency.  Time can wait.

The mistake is reading the measurement of time in this way.  When time is at its most abundant is exactly when time is the most useful, the most generous, and most efficiently used.  It's heavy weight signals you to use it to its fullest measure, not save it.  Time is vibrant, healthy, and has great legs.   Use them.  Use them now.

That is their message. And the short-timers always add urgently...    Please.  I beg you.  Don't wait.  Take time now.

(After spending the weekend along the shore of Lake Michigan, a weekend I had promised to my 80 year old parents.  A place they love but without the means to get there.  I had to take them, and take them now.  There is no time to lose.  .... To report, we had a lovely time.  It was time very well spent.)

Thursday, October 13, 2011

Handyman Love

What is it about a handyman husband that can fix all your stuff when it breaks down?  Why do I find that so sexy?

It must be a throw back to when females chose their mates by their ability to provide, to hunt down the wooly mammoth and consistently put meat on the table.  He has skills.  A man that can fix things.  Successfully.  Be still my heart.

Replacing things are costly.  When he fixes the lawn mower, the toaster, my micro tape recorder, the washer, my hot rollers, the car, the plumbing, and my sewing machine, he saves us hundreds upon hundreds of dollars.  That's money that we I can spend on more important things.  Yeah, baby!

It's such a gift when something you think is dead and gone is suddenly restored and handed back with pride and love.   When he says,"Let me see what I can do about that."  My heart beats a little faster.

That's damn sexy.

Thursday, September 1, 2011

Eighty Year Old Heros

My mom and dad are 80 and 82.  They still drive.  They can still think.   They are a marvel.  My parents are super-heroes.

Daddy is much thinner than he has ever been.  But I expected that when you think of over 80 crowd. What I did not expect was to have him pick up a plastic bin filled with cookware and haul it into the house like it was nothing. I barely could get the thing up the porch steps.

Mami is hurting more, more than she has ever been.  I expected that, with her asthma, COPD, arthritis, and leg pains. What I did not expect was her running house to house on Halloween with a blond Marilyn Monroe wig on, begging for candy.  Okay... maybe I wasn't expecting it, but am I surprised, not at all.

My Little Sister was the closest relative, living only two doors down from my parents.  She has since moved away (I'm thinking running away), and it has been left up to me to be their "go-to" gal.  At first I was wary.  Mami can demand a lot of attention. Papi usually doesn't speak at all (especially when Mami is around.)

But as I spend more time with them, I find that I really enjoy their company.  There is a camaraderie.  I make sure I take time to engage Papi in conversation, not letting Mami cut him off or take over the topic. Soon we are all conversing about world affairs, local news, their childhood memories, grandchildren and much more.

My parents are sentient, they're smart, they're passionate.  Their life has been a hard one.  They have lived all of their 80 years living way below the poverty line.  They showed me that worrying does you no good.  That money and  living can be difficult, but manageable even with five kids, a dog, and a parakeet.

They showed us that even without money, one can live a full and rich life, filled with love, without fear, without regret.

I look at them.  I feel that there is decades in them yet.  But I know that life has a way of hitting you with the unexpected.  My sisters and brother and I are so lucky to have them still.

Thursday, June 9, 2011

Decorating with a Bulldozer - Spin Cycle

The Spin Cycle topic is decorating.  Lovely when you actually finish a project. But what if...?   I'm ashamed of what I am about to show you.

Ha, ha decorating.  For someone who loves, loves, loves watching everything HGTV you'd think I would have a handle on this decorating business.  I did at least paint an accent wall in my dining room (yeah for me) and made a group of pillows for my living room to pull the colors together. Put new tile on the bathroom floor, changed the vanity but that's about it.

But really it's the time constraints, the big commitment, the fear of finding out what is under there that has stopped us.

We fell for the myth that your first home will most likely be your starter home, out in five, with bigger and better things yet to come.  I couldn't wait for the time when we would be "moving on up."  But 24 years later, we are still in our little bungalow. We were such suckers.

I never liked the house much because it reminded me too much of my mom's house.  As a new bride and mother to be, I wanted something that was mine, something new, something fresh.  This wasn't it.

Finally I had to admit that after 10 years that this was our home forever, and we needed to add our personal touch to make it reflect our tastes.   We did a few cosmetic changes but soon realized we needed to overhaul a few rooms, okay really all of them. A major problem is that the house is so old, the oldest in the neighborhood that we don't really want to put a lot of money into the place.  Especially since every other house similar in size and age to our home has been bulldozed.  Just didn't make sense. But after this many years, I just couldn't stand it anymore.

So Beloved decided we'd start with the kitchen.  Due to slight water damage the paint on the kitchen ceiling started to peel.  So he started to remove the paint, layers and layers of it.  Until we hit the red paint layer, which refuses to come off the ceiling.  What would possess someone to paint fire engine red on a kitchen ceiling!  We realized that if you let it alone, that eventually it was easier to get off bit by bit. That was a few years ago.

The last stubborn spot.

A year later, trying to psyche ourselves into finishing the project, we bought flooring for the kitchen too.  We planned to be 'weekend warriors' and get that floor in ASAP.  That was a few years ago.

Sitting in the basement, no doubt warping

Here is the wall paper in our living room.  Looks very much like the same wall paper on Laura and Rob Petrie's bedroom wall in the Dick Van Dyke Show.  After an all day session of cooking an ethnic family traditional food for the holidays with my mom and sisters, which required four gigantic pots boiling on my stove for hours, creating enough steam that old wall paper will bubble and slide down your walls.  Who would of thunk? We managed to get the paper back into place before it dried permanently that way.

See the pretty birdies and butterflies, and the bubble seams?

So after a few weeks I realized it was a lost cause and started removing it.  But alas, layers of paint came off with it, removing down to the plaster in some places, and then Beloved scared me by mentioning lead paint, so I stopped.  That was a few years ago.

Just lovely

A nice touch would be to redo the wood floors, but that would mean removing everything from the house and dust would be everywhere for weeks, on all my stuff, up my nose, in the vents, the hardship, the work, the stress... crap, let's forget that.

When they bulldoze the house, someone should save this flooring

Oh yeah and the tub, the big fat, taking all the room, I can hardly manage to get in and out without killing myself tub.

See how close the vanity and toilet is to the tub. That's it for room.

So I have been waiting for years for the decorating angel to visit me or possess me, maybe bring a heavenly host of angels with her, a crew if you will.  Maybe better yet, if she brought me a winning lottery ticket so that I could hire my own crew, that would be special.... wait.... winning lottery ticket, hmm.    Let's bulldoze the 'mother' down!  Yeah!  Now that's a make-over.

Check out Sprite's Keeper for more Spins on decorating and make-overs.  No bulldozing over there.

Monday, May 30, 2011

What Am I Waiting For? - Spin Cycle

Waiting is a perpetual state with me.  I'm waiting for the right answer to hit me or for the right moment or waiting for a sign.  I'm waiting to become successful.  I'm waiting for the indecision to leave me. I'm waiting for my gut to tell me, because damn it after decades of waiting, I've found that my past gut decisions have served me well.  I'm just willing to wait.

Funny thing about waiting, it's an action word.   If I'm waiting, I'm actually doing something, right?

I used to feel guilty about it, as though waiting was akin to laziness. But things have happened in my life that has shown me that waiting was the right decision after all.

Is waiting, wisdom in patience?  Or is it the refuge of the indecisive?

Waiting is tolerable when it's my decision.  But when it's out of my control and a required state of mind, it can be excruciating.  Like the time I was sitting in a hospital waiting room with my mother and father waiting for the news on whether my brother was going to live or die. The rush of relief when the waiting was over is not one I will ever forget.

But as I get older, waiting becomes less and less appealing.  Time is marching on.  It used to be small thing, but my, how it has grown. It's legs have gotten strong and it's about to surpass me at a rapid pace. I hear the steps coming behind me in the distance.  So I have got to pick up my pace.  No more waiting.

Because I certainly don't want to have to beg as it tries to pass, "Wait!  I'm not fast enough!  Please wait!

Wait no more Spinners. Head over to Sprite's Keeper with Jen, your host of the Spin Cycle.

Sunday, May 22, 2011

Reunited and It Feels So Good

OMG, Jen has brought back the Spin Cycle!  What could she be thinking? As an experienced "mother," I know that Sprite will become increasingly more involved in projects, parties, school functions,and major events that Jen, as the facilitator majordomo, just might need to put Spin Cycle on hiatus once more.  So I'm taking advantage of it now while the going is good.  Thanks, Jen. You're a peach.

This week's topic is Reunions.

Although I have over 45 first cousins, and who knows how many second cousins, a reunion of this magnitude will most likely, never occur.

I went to my one and only high school reunion at the five year mark, a picnic, cheap and easy.  I know its a cliche, but the ugliest girl was a stunning, desirable beauty and the drop dead gorgeous and most desirable jock was unrecognizable with a paunch and hair line that resembled Friar Tuck. We grabbed the yearbook to figure out who this guy was.  After the initial shock, I felt a little guilty, which usually means I feel the need to go to confession, because I felt pleased at his demise. Wicked girl.

My five year high school reunion lesson - justice. To me this was a high water mark. No need to go to another.

My reunions are daily.  Every meeting is a reunion.   I can't stand going too long without hugging a person I love.

There are those that I miss so much right now.  I've gone a whole month without hugging my son.  When it hits two months, I barely can stand it.  I've gone a whole three months without hugging my little sister.  I've gone a whole six months without hugging some of my extended children, not really mine, but they feel like mine. I miss them. I hope to fill these holes in my soul, soon.

Every day, I reunite with my mom who is eighty years old. For her, waking up every morning is a reunion with the sun, life, family and God.

I envy young parents. Because every evening, you still get to experience the reunion of your very own family together under one roof.  Rejoice. This is the most precious reunion you can ever experience.  Don't take it for granted.

And don't take for granted this reunion with the Spin Cycle. Off you go and don't forget to come back, because I need the hugs.

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Random Happiness


I love being around little kids.  The four to six year old set are the best.  If only I could shrink down to their size and run around like a nut like they do, that would be heaven.

I held our annual Valentine' s parents night out and kid's sleep-over at our school. The school becomes an indoor playground and we set it up so there's cool stuff to do in every corner.  One of my five year old students, Maya, came running up to me and said, "This is the best time I've ever had in my whole life! In My Whole Life!"   I take being the highlight of any child's day as a real compliment, but of their whole existence. Now we're talking.

Speaking about highlight of the day, Smokey the dog was not left behind.  Since he is our guest for three months, we didn't feel right leaving him home alone for so long. Besides he seems to me to be a dog that would like a good party.  So Smokey went to the sleep-over too.  With six Lil' Dragons constantly on his tail lavishing love and attention, he had a great time.  He slept all day the next day.  That's what happens when you party too much.

Speaking of partying, I plan to be celebrating this weekend and for so many random reasons, yet  connected.

First:  Road Trip. Yeah!
QueenMaker and I will be hitting the road and I love it. A short road trip, only four hours, but enough time to have great conversations, break out some jams and a gigantic bag of trail mix.

Second: Going to Chicago.  Sweet!
Beginning to like this city more and more, except for the surprising thirty-one dollar parking fee.  We've been to the Historic Museum, to the Aquarium, had Chicago style pizza, and checked out the University of Chicago.  My son moved there almost six months ago, long enough to explore what the city has to offer.  We're going to Chinatown, a jazz club, and checking out a Frank Lloyd Wright home in the area. We're looking forward to his tour.

Third:  My Son, Beloved.  (blinking back the tears)
My one and only and I miss him dearly.  This is our reason for going, to see our son. Our friendship with him continues to grow. Since our parent/child relationship is partially behind us, we hope that he continues to turn to us not only as his parents but as his dear friends as well.

Fourth:  Permanent Full Time Employment. Yeah!
Beloved has been discovered!  He has part-time employment at a bookstore and hired as a coffee barista, but he works in all the departments when needed.  His store is closing so he's been worried about finding a new job.   A woman customer noticed that he was everywhere it seemed at once. She complimented on his excellent customer service and his willingness to help out his fellow co-workers.  And then she offered him a job. Full-time employment with benefits and a raise in pay.  Woo-hoo!

Fifth: My Wedding Anniversary! Kisses.
This is why I picked this weekend to go see our son.  To celebrate our love, to celebrate what our union gave us, Beloved, and to celebrate the many years of happiness we have shared.

Speaking about happiness we have all shared, head over to Keely's UnMom and read the tales of the more random happiness happening over there.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Distracted Bitch - And It's Not My Dog

In this edition of Random Tuesday Thoughts, a secret is revealed, eccentric persona emerge, a geological phenomena simile. "Cats! Dogs! Living together...!", metaphors for life, and a husband gets a break.


Here's a little secret.  I've changed.

Inside this sweet, fuzzy warm, very loving sheep's clothing I've been wearing for the last decade or two, was once a hardened, seething, anguished waiting-to-pounce bitch.  She doesn't appear anymore.

Okay. Maybe a couple days of the month, she reappears, but really just a mere shadow of her past self and only for minutes at a time.  Really.  Take my word for it.  She's hardly recognizable anymore.   Right Honey?

Now, where did he go?

But like the newly formed volcano, erupting angry lava carelessly in its youth, years and years of trials and tribulations, of experience and wisdom have cooled down the exterior.  It hibernates in the depths, underneath cool waters and spring meadows.  No longer recognized as a volcano.  Really.  It's true.

But occasionally steam does rises.  It's sounds like a slow hiss.

And it sounds like a cat's hiss.  And I am very much a cat.

Smokey, our temporary dog boarder, just wants to be loved.  And loved.  And loved.   And loved.

His exuberance and "love-me" eyes were hard to resist, but now when I come through the door I find it maddening, so I have taken to ignoring his requests for instant affection gratification.  Later on, he will  insist that ignoring him is just out of the question.  So I relent.

Now I'm not one that likes things that are too needy.  Girlfriends who need to be pacified too much, boyfriends that need constant validation, folks that are touchy feel-y, arm tappers, wide-eyed dramatic people (besides myself), and delusional love starved dogs.

Because They. Want. Too. Much. And since I don't have the personality or fortitude to give it to them, I feel slightly guilty and put upon, and seriously, who needs that?

So the dog and I have been going through a ritual, a one sided conversation where I tell him all the things I won't do for him.  Telling him to stop watching me.   To quit following me around the house all the time.  Don't you dare lick me.  That I recognize his ploy of bringing me his toys.  Interrupting conversations by chomping on his squeaky toy. That this is MY food and I'm not sharing.  Sure he gets the occasional display of affection. But  I let him know that I am not going to sit there and pet him for hours.

As the dog and I were going another round, QueenMaker looks at Smokey and gratefully says:

"Dog, you don't know how happy I am to have you here."

Touche.  QueenMaker.  Touche.

So off you go to Keely's for more random happenings and distractions.  You'll find a lovely group of personalities there that you'll want to get to know. They don't seem too needy either.  Awesome.

Saturday, January 29, 2011

Mixing Metaphors - My Forte

QueenMaker walks up behind me while I'm doing the "financials" for our accountant and says, "That's wrong.  It should be 58, not 56."

Me: "No honey. That is 58.  See it says 58."

QueenMaker: "Oh.  Are you sure?"

Me: "Yes."

QueenMaker: " Oh, I guess I read it wrong. How about that one.  It seems wrong.  Shouldn't that read 184?"

Me: "It does silly.  See?  Are you wearing your reading glasses?"

QueenMaker: "No."

Me: "Well, people without glasses should not cast the first verbal stone."

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Random Words


Pressure - That's when you have six highly diverse projects with deadlines that fall within one week of each other in February.

Balance - That's when you help your sanity by staying on track, continue hacking away at the debris, to remove each item from the dust bowl in your head, and then, maybe, there's still a ray of hope that it will all get done and done properly - the Slow March of Progress.

Excuses - trying to stay away from the emotional, depressing, anger filled, distractions that can put a halt to the Slow March of Progress and turn it into the I Don't Give a Flick Anymore - Lying in Bed All Day Doldrums.

Weathered - Everything looks weathered. My car, my house, my poor coat, my boots, my life, my hair, my face, and my patience.  Winter needs to pick up its long grey weathered coat and get out of here!

Space - Home on the range. Vast Space. Free range chickens. Space to run. Time to Run. Space time continuum. Time to spare. Time to think. Thinking freely. Running freely. Freedom. Space equals Freedom. I want a lot of both.

Distractions - Lots of them.  To stop you, to boost you, to help you weather the bad stuff, to keep you from doing the good stuff, to give you space, to give you excuses, to offer balance or to keep you off balance, or to take the pressure off or to turn up the heat.  It could go either way.

Either way, head over to UnMom for more Random Tuesday Thoughts.

Thursday, January 20, 2011

She Needs to Know

I was inspired by the connection we made today when my mother called from Puerto Rico. 

She Needs to Know 

She called wanting to know.  That’s what a Mom needs. 
She needs to know.  Everything.
If She can know
then maybe She won’t worry so much. 
She’ll keep connected to the people she loves. 
A connection that cannot possibly ever be severed.

If she knows, maybe she can be there for her child.
Maybe there will be a need to console,
to advise, or to cry with her child. 
Or maybe to cheer, rejoice, congratulate,
or exclaim like the days of old.
But best of all maybe to laugh
and be more than mother and child
and thereby find joint joy.
By knowing, she can imagine
that eyebrow of yours going up,
the glint in your eye when
you’ve made a decision,
the way you look when you’re pensive. 
Her connection is experience.
She needs to know
because she believes she’s the one person
that knows you better than you know yourself.
She imagines the thoughts and emotions running through you.
And feels it with you so far away.

And when She called, I made it light and airy. 
There was nothing new to report
No crisis, no triumphs, a typical cold day
Much like hers except there’s heat in her day.
Nothing that needed much knowing
No underlying need to role-play mother and child
But I know that She likes to console and feel needed
so I complained of all I had to do.
And she told me to slow down and take it easy.

So we laughed, we talked
Of happy things, listening to the joy
And the harmony within our voices.
Because now I know what She knows
Our ages are far closer than our years
And I know and feel the same need
To be the She, wanting to know.

Monday, January 10, 2011

Don't Expect Any Doggie Back-Up

When everyone in the house heard the loud thump on the floor, the three of us looked at each other. Two of us jumped up immediately to investigate.

The third one made a bee-line for the back door and wanted out of the house.

Smokey is no guard dog.

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Sugar Make You Go - Go Do Random Stuff


Well I've done it again.  My motor is revving and there is no stopping me now.  Let me see.  Let me count the sugary ways that somehow, randomly, don't know how it happened, got into my body.  


Pies:  Loads of them.  From Thanksgiving forward, there are pies and cheesecakes.  Pumpkin pie, pecan pie, apple pie, spinach pie, strawberry cheesecake, turtle cheesecake, all the way to New Years.


Cookies! Tons and tons of them.  My mother in law who has been pretending she's been dying for the last six months, had her medication adjusted.  She's in hospice now and her new nurse reconfigured her medication.  At first she was afraid of hospice. But they assured her that hospice didn't mean they were going to put her down like they do an ailing dog, but to improve her quality of life.  And they have!  She feels more vibrant and can breath more easily.  To prove it she made eight gigantic batches of eight different kinds of the most delicious cookies.  But with whom can she share these mountain of cookies?  Me.  So there's that.

More cookies! The mother of a student of mine sent in a gigantic tray of homemade cookies and muffins, along with handfuls of chocolates. The centerpiece was two caramel apples, one covered in white chocolate chips and the other in dark.  Do I have to eat them all?

Christmas Party for the kids at our school.  All the wonderful parents brought treats, cookies, cupcakes, cookies, sweet tamales, cookies, twizzlers, and cookies.


Chocolates:  Who gave me this ginormous bag of Ghirardelli Squares?   Hell, who gave me this other bag of Ghirardelli  squares?    People stop it!


Birthday Cakes:  Why does everyone in my family procreate in March?  Ladies are you so cold that you pretend to forgive your husband, or pretend to be asleep, or suddenly your headache is cured, so you can grab some of that fiery furnace heat coming off your man, that you actually snuggle up to him?  Ladies, that  can only lead to one thing.  Right?  You know what I'm saying.  Consequently December babies are dropping left and right around here!

I proclaim that March is a NO SEX month!    Who's with me?    Please family, I can't afford the birthdays and the baby Jesus' birthday too.  No. More. Cake.


Baklava:  My Birthday.  Yes, I too am a Christmas baby.  For most people, they get to wipe their brows and thank their stars that the holidays are over and all the food they have consumed over the past two months will soon find its way out of their systems.  But each year for my birthday I get a half a tray of baklava from my love.  And. I. Eat. It. Like. It's. Potato Chips.  So there's that.

Sugar Make You Go

Bouncing off the walls.
Took my nephew to school.
Went to the fruit/vegetable market.
Went to the school to work a couple of hours.
Cleaned my room.  It was a mess.
Organized my sewing and craft room.
Created a marketing slash office slash budget slash personal goals slash, weight loss plan for the next six months.
As a spreadsheet.
Called our accountant for our yearly appointment.
Called everyone and made appointments with everyone.
Took down both Christmas trees.
Made onion rings.
Talking a lot to anyone and no one.
Dancing down the decked halls.
Imparted great wisdom on the web.
Reviewed the latest Adult Education brochure that came in the mail. Circled some classes.
Colored my hair.
Updated my weekly and monthly calendar.
Completed some on-line banking.
Reorganized pictures for our web guy.
Rewrote copy - four pages worth.
Emailed my son three times. I kept forgetting to tell him stuff.
Cleared off every flat surface in the house.  Almost.
Visited with my sister, niece, and nephew.
Baked chocolate chip cookies.

Yes, I made chocolate chip cookies.  But thankfully they're for my 21 year old niece for her birthday. She insists I make her a batch every year before she goes back to school. She's a December baby too, born on the 22nd. And so is her brother, born on the 24th.

Stupid sister, having sex in March, be-otch!

Did I eat some of those cookies?  Only one from each batch that came out of the oven.  Or only the ones that were almost burned or too brown to give away.  Only a dozen or so.  They're almost gone.


The accelerated particle collider gots nuthin' on me. I might create my own black-hole right here in the living room.  So stand back.  No really.  Stand back.

I've got more to do and there's so little time.  I suspect that this sugar high will last about another week or so and then I can relax again with the same lazy panache that is so my trademark.

So onward to the next thing, and then the next.  Go to Keely's and check out the list of randomness going on over there and get back to me later.
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