I'm so glad I finally got a new computer.

Yay!

like that is the best possible way.

Oh, yeah.

Then she said she wished you wrote a book, so she could read about all these stories from your point of view.

I'm all for the breathing to stay alive and well.

Nilly, what time is it already?

Don't you need to sleep? I mean, I know, shabbat sleep and all, but seriously.

That chapter from my point of view is very short. Goes something much like "oh, bless you!" I don't quite have Allyson's gift.

If I'm looking for something like steel-toed Mary Janes on eBay I'm looking at used, aren't I? I don't want used shoes, but I want the steel toed MJs so badly...

I was just looking at the chamsa (sp?) you gave me the other day and re-appreciating the beauty.

Most of my "things" (and folks can attest I have a lot) are gifts from loved ones. I love them because they are beautiful and I can hold them in my hand and instantly call up the person and occasion. It's something no amount of rental insurance can replace. They are precious to me in the memories they evoke.

My mom always pokes me because whenever she suggests garage-saling or rehoming my multitudes of stuffed animals back at the ranch, I come back with "but so-and-so gave that to me when I was X years old and got at at Y and..." I expect when I get a house, in addition to the truckload of antique furniture that's got my name on it, it'll be a truckload of stuffed animals.

I'm *still* not over Pink Hippopotamus who got lost on the flight back from Prague. Dad gave that to me when I was 3, from the ABQ zoo when he was on business travel. It was my travel companion and always in my bed from 3 until 20 and I think I cried at the airport when I realize he'd disappeared. Dad keeps giving me whatever stuffed pink hippos he finds as solace. They ain't the original, but the sentiment is so dear to me.

Burrell, I'm so sorry. I hope things work out as well as possible.

I have just put hair dye on. After the last two-tone fiasco, K told me no more. And yet, different color! tired of the gray! had a box on hand! birthday in a few days!

If it looks bad, we know who to blame.

Dad keeps giving me whatever stuffed pink hippos he finds as solace. They ain't the original, but the sentiment is so dear to me.

Oh sara, that's so sweet. With your permission, may I use a variation of that in the MS I'm working on right now? Since the leads are skaters, it'd make for one of those lovely bonding moments.

Although perhaps, I shall use Stitch-- since he's my talisman. Or Opus.

Barb, it's 5am. I'm 10 hours ahead of board time.

It's morning soon. But it's still dark so I can still convince myself that it's still the-middle-of-the-night and therefore all the things I needed to finish tonight, before it's day already, still have some time.

Don't you need to sleep?

Oh, yeah.

That chapter from my point of view is very short. Goes something much like "oh, bless you!" I don't quite have Allyson's gift.

I'm totally forwarding that to her, if that's OK by you (um, I might have told her that I love how the way you write is very much *you* and that you have a powerful way with words. But I also told her that you're the opposite of me in that I can't say "good morning" without flowing over to the next post, and I just spill words all over the place).

I love them because they are beautiful and I can hold them in my hand and instantly call up the person and occasion.

Exactly.

Dad keeps giving me whatever stuffed pink hippos he finds as solace.

That's lovely. I like your father.

[Edit:

If it looks bad, we know who to blame.

Me! MeMeME! Everything is my fault.]

sara, I have the wonderful pig and the basket from your parents on the mantel. I think of them and you when I see them. I can see your dad in search of the best pink hippo.

With your permission, may I use a variation of that in the MS I'm working on right now?

Please do!

My dad can be so very...I dunno. Oblivious. He's a sweetie, don't get me wrong, but not an obvious one. But very much the cantankerous, bull-in-a-china-shop, clueless professor. So when he tweaks on a sentimental gesture, it just kills me. It's him playing rock hide'n'seek in the rock yard with his grandson, or taking him for a walk when the kid was pestering his dad to death. It's the pink hippos and all the stuffed animals that came home to me when he travelled. It's the roomba and hearty laughter when I opened that box. It's him babytalking to Mister Kitty when they're sleeping in my room and he thinks I don't hear him. It's the email from Seoul.

Kat, I love that you have that and see that.

I can hold them in my hand and instantly call up the person and occasion

I wish I were that good. I do remember most things and most occasions, but there are a couple that ping me with guilt because I should know, dammit.

Nilly, forward away. You know me...not bandwidth taxing. Well, until it gets to pictures.

I'm trying to imagine my father in search of the perfect stuffed anything and coming up hysterically blank. One of the last "gifts" he gave me had to be pretty much wrenched from his hands. He'd not just decided to keep the knife, he'd hung it on his wall over his computer. I went a step further and pretty much guilt-tripped him out of half a pair of silver (?) chased drinking horns, so it all worked out. And that's certainly an occasion that sticks in the cranium.

But I think they understand. You travel to a new place, you bring ita back fabric or a knife, or hopefully both. But I think my dad's done travelling by himself (sniff..that's a big deal for him, although we've never talked about it like that) and him travelling with one of us would be weird. But I guess not impossible.

Nilly, dear, I love having you around, but I hope shabbat is enough to recover from all this. I'm catching your exhaustedness.

Oh, wait! Painkillers kicking in. Good job. Never mind. Still, I hope things smooth out with your work.

Can't decide if I should have dinner. I am, after all, not hungry.