Hey All - just skippity skipped a ton of posts, most of the end of the last thread and up to here in this one. I hope all are well.

Thanks, DCJ--I'm glad it's probably not my fault.

DH is going to check the beaters tonight. That's a little too advanced for me. I need to get to where I don't feel like I deserve applause every time I change a toner cartridge without spilling it everywhere or ruining the printer before I start actually taking anything apart.

Hi, Lexine! I think we all managed to pass the New Year's okay. How about you?

When my brother is fully medicated and off drugs, he is the sweetest, funniest guy around.

He told me that when he was carrying a few of the baby's wrapped presents to the car to take to my sister's house for our Christmas celebration, he accidentally activated the sound on one and it said something like, "Don't forget to wash your face!" in a cheery voice.

He stopped for a minute and thought that maybe his schizophrenia medication wasn't quite working right and wondered if they needed to up his dosage.

Then he remembered one of the toys talked.

Oh, Cash, your poor brother! t As I laugh heartlessly at the bewildered expression I'm imagining on his face.

At least he's got a good sense of humor about it. It makes it a little more tragic because of what might have been, but he still makes me smile with his sweetness.

Crap. I'm combing through my writing, and I can't find anything appropriate to rework and send as a writing sample.

(Even if it does make me feel smart to open files from my Senior Seminar and see papers labeled "Post-structuralism analysis" and "Psychoanalytic theory worksheet". I think it's neat that there was a time when I knew what I was talking about.)

I'm glad he was well enough to realize he wasn't really unwell. That's why I could allow myself to laugh. Otherwise, yes, just a mask of tragedy, no comedy there at all.

Dave Barry is giving up his column, or at least going on an indefinite hiatus. He says:

There comes a time in the life of every writer when he asks himself--as Shakespeare, Tolstoy and Hemingway all surely asked themselves--if he has any booger jokes left in him.

For me, that time has come. I've been trying to entertain newspaper readers since the '60s, when I wrote ''humor'' columns for the Haverford College News.... After college, I got a job as a reporter at the West Chester, Pa., Daily Local News, where I was also allowed to write humor columns. I thought they were pretty good, but after my third one, an editor took me aside and told me -- this is an absolutely true quote -- ''you used to be funnier.''

That was more than 30 years ago, and since then, hardly a week has gone by during which somebody has not told me that I used to be funnier. I sometimes got discouraged, but I kept at it, year after year, the past 22 of them at The Herald. Why didn't I give up? I'll tell you why: I have no useful skills.

so DH is still in the phoenix airport. possibly getting on a plane in a minute or two. there is no internet at the phoenix airport. guess how much money his co lost by saving 30 dollars