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.

sara, I love how you write, and I feel as if you made me know - and like! - your father, even if only a little bit.

t unfair

like! - your father, even if only a little bit.

Hey! That's not nice!

t /unfair

I totally agree with Nilly (though, ita, I think your dad is extremely charming and I love the stories).

So hair dye is washed out. The color is still unknown. I refuse to run the hair dryer just to satisfy my curiosity.

Still, I hope things smooth out with your work.

My deadline is the 31st.

(goodness, I must be sleepier than I thought - I'd typed "32nd" first, and only after the "nd" part did I realize that something's wrong there. I mean, if it had been the 35th of May or something, then maybe I'd have had an excuse, but 32?).

I'm going to hand in whatever I have at that date. It'll be a damaged dissertation (not just in perfectionists' terms - really flawed, with missing stuff that I didn't finish getting results for and the like), so I'll probably have a zillion corrections before it has any chance of being approved, but I have to meet this deadline. And it has to be something that my supervisor won't be embarrassed to sign his name on.

Hey! That's not nice!

Oh, yeah. I'm bad.

Or, rather, my English is bad.

[Edit:

ita, I think your dad is extremely charming and I love the stories

And now I agree with Kat.]