Happy Birthday Fred! I hope you're doing something fun.

Dear Random Lady -

Your implants are way too big if a seven year old girl stops dead and stares at your chest.

Also, wear a freaking bra. No boobs that size should stand out at a 90 degree angle from your body when you are obviously not getting any help from the lingerie industry. In other words, I shouldn't be able to put the entire written collection of Shakespeare up there.

Ta, Me

ew...that is so ugly.

I just cut open one of my fingertips trimming rose stems. I'm elevating--kinda compressing. What else should I do?

Do you have one of those butterfly bandages?

I think I do. It's not as bad as I thought--I thought I'd caught the nail too. It's gonna be annoying, because it's right at the tip of the pad. But it's stopped spurting, so time to clean and dress it. And to finish putting away the groceries.

I suspect I'm home for the day, despite having social things I should do. Between this and the migraine, I don't even feel up to the laundry which must get done by 10:30 tomorrow morning, because I have a krav photo shoot and teaching, for which I should be politely dressed.

Poor ita. Not even the flowers are being nice to her.

(pops back in for just a sec) Lee, next weekend would be better for pie. Or maybe Thursday. Will send e. (runs off to tackle dinner prep)

Oh, and remembering Accept No Substitutes for JZ? The lady sitting next to me on the first plane on my trip was laughing out loud over her book and totally had JZ-ish hair and eyes and lipstick. Seemed especially weird that the likeness was strong because her style was so very different - the laughing book reader was all decked out as a shiny upper crust suburban matron with a tan and lots of diamondy gold bling. Fortunately for me this was not really like meeting an evil twin, more like a distant cousin.

And now I've used the Internet to shirk my dinner prep responsibilities, alas for my bad habits.

Sounds like a plan, Katie.

t x-posted with Bitches

Thanks so much for all the -ma and the calls and good wishes. I was telling Hec last night that thinking about the Buffistas made me think about the young wife's final monologue in Angels in America, where she talks about flying to San Francisco and seeing all the people who have passed on shimmering through the air around the airplane, joining hands and making a shield of themselves for all the scared, sad, sick people still walking around on the ground.

Not that any of y'all are passed on, but I felt the floaty hands and the loving wishes shielding me and the Halloweenie, all around us. So thank you all, so much.

All continues well, except that I'm now here through Monday morning at least. And my ass is all sore and cranky from excessive bedrest and the steroid injections. But I'm okay and the Halloweenie is vigorous and steadily heartbeaty and the placenta is staying put for now, so yay.

Brief post 'cause this keyboard is all rubbery and weird and sucks.