Most of my party angst is pre-party, these days, which points the finger of blame back at me. I hate when that happens. In your case, the finger still goes to your sister. *g*

How is your nephew doing?

How is your nephew doing?

I almost hate to mention it. Not so good. When I stopped Friday at my sister's house they were gone--trying to gather money to bail him out of jail. Not for drugs, though, at least. He got into a fight at a party and had been arrested for battery.

My sisters helped with the last $200 and they got him out on Saturday--he had *just* started a job (his first!) and it's hoped that if he goes to court and shows that he's working and off drugs, he'll at least avoid going back to jail. I got to see his baby girl. She's so adorable. I hope he gets his act together for her sake.

And Mom didn't make the party because she went to Foxwood Casino with her sisters. *shrug*

But it was a good weekend. Especially watching the Sox game with Dad and Owen on Saturday night.

Oh, Cashmere, I'm sorry to hear about the nephew, but glad the party went well and that you had a good time.

More {{{{}}}} for Cindy, just 'cause.

I need to be getting in the shower soon, but am fighting with my pre-lab first. Ugh. I have no idea what I'm doing, and I can't talk with anyone about it.

The hell? How did I get so far behind I had to skip 1300ish posts to pretend to be caught up?

~ma and other forms of punctuation to anyone who wants 'em.

I just stopped myself from having a hissy meltdown fit in the kitchen. Not only couldn't I find the dish cloths I brought with me from Arizona, I couldn't find any dishcloths at all. We (and by "we" I mean Daniel because I hate doing dishes) have been doing dishes with a sponge that occationally gets microwaved for 3 minutes to kill off germiness. I needed the cloth to wipe up a counter that had pear drool all over it, from a fit of actually doing something with the huge frickin' pile of pears Daniel's co-worker gave him a month ago. I'm not sure why, but trying to wipe up a counter doesn't feel right with a sponge.

I used a small towel.

ETA: Double what the hell? I italicized one word, on purpose, and closed the tag as I intended. But the rest of the post was italicized with it, so fearing I had forgotten to close it, I tried to edit the post. Not an unclosed tag, but a mysterious new set of italics tags including a closer wormed their way into the post. Then when I meant to hit "Post message" I missed, apparently, and got "Buffistas Home" instead. I'ma go back to bed.

Oh, wait, I have pears and butter and brown sugar on the stove. No bed-going for me.

Thanks, vw. Just do your best on your pre-lab. If it's not right, then you'll learn why at school, which is why you're going to school. Remember, you're not going to get all 100s and A+s. You're going to learn.

And Cashmere, I'm going to take a handful of your relatives out behind the woodshed, okay?

But it was a good weekend. Especially watching the Sox game with Dad and Owen on Saturday night.

Oh, fun! Ben fell big in love with baseball the year my dad died, but dad died right around/before Spring training, so he never got to see it. He would have enjoyed it, so. Does Owen pay any attention to the game? Ben used to watch hockey when he was younger than Owen. I think he found it exciting.

Just do your best on your pre-lab. If it's not right, then you'll learn why at school, which is why you're going to school. Remember, you're not going to get all 100s and A+s. You're going to learn.

I'm making shit up now. It's kind of fun. This is a pre-lab where we get full credit just for filling it out. So, I just need to fill the damn thing out. I just can't come up with anything intelligent to say. So, I'm making shit up.

So, I'm making shit up.

See, now you're talking like a student!

I just can't come up with anything intelligent to say. So, I'm making shit up.

Finally, a school project that teaches the student real life skills.

See, now you're talking like a student!

Oh, good! I'm doing something right!

So, I'm making shit up.

I once had a French teacher who was so very burned out, he didn't care if we'd read Les Miserables, or whatever we were supposed to be reading. As long as we wrote correct French sentences on our tests, we got credit. He was a sweetie.

Finally, a school project that teaches the student real life skills.

Hee! Exactly.

And, um, timelies. It's still gray and windy and rainy here. More of this and I may stage a revolt and not get out of bed for a few days.