Tons of ~ma to you, Susan. That's a very stressful situation, and we both wish you the best in navigating it.
'Jaynestown'
Spike's Bitches 41: Thrown together to stand against the forces of darkness
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risqué (and frisqué), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
Much ~ma to you, Susan.
It's driving me crazy that there's an hour left in SYTYCD and there's 50 posts in NonFiction and I don't want to go in there and spoil myself. And I'm on my work computer and don't allow myself to go on LJ on it. Argh.
Also, I have not gone to have dinner yet. I'm sure I"ll be pretty hungry by the time I go to bed, but I definitely am too lazy to go anywhere. Meh. Guess I'll just be hungry for a full breakfast in the morning.
Fuck, Trudy. I'm so sorry. Healing ~ma for your mom and coping ~ma for you.
WTF, Universe?!? Back off!
I keep reminding myself she's safe.
She really could have died and that's scary as shit -- but she didn't and she's safe now.
One of her nurses today grew up with my Sister. Sis says its weird having our Mom's life in the hands of Dinky Petrelli. ("Petrelli" is a fake last name of the correct ethnicity, but "Dinky" is what the poor girl was called growing up.)
my best to your mom and all that are caring for her, Trudy
Oh Trudy.
Well, finally got out of the office at 8 and we went out to dinner. Didn't get back to the hotel until 10pm. Guh. Meeting up for breakfast at 7am.
One thing I have to say about this trip, is that we eat VERY well. I'm not going to have to eat again for a week.
Thanks, guys.
I'm thinking about the rampant nicknames in the small town I grew up in (its where a lot of the Station Agent was shot, pretty quaint and idyllic and boring as hell once you've cleared the age of 12).
There was one set of siblings who all wound up called by a nickname derived from their last name -- so their friends would call the Paterno house and ask for "Pat" (again, fake name) and be asked "which grade?".
There was a kid in my grade who had the great misfortune one year of having a back pack the precise color of his jacket. He was dubbed "Quasi Modo" by the rest of the fourth grade. Bravo on them for being so literary (this was way before the Disney movie you whippersnappers), but that poor sucker was Quaz until he got out of high school.
My father's name was Floyd, and he generally went by Bud, but there was a bunch of guys who had known him from high school who always called him Skeeter or Skeet. I never had the nerve to ask.
I didn't really have a proper nickname at school, yet I now have two at work: "Sneakers" and "Willipedia".