{{{JZ}}} Hate those kind of nightmares. HATE.

P-C, you'll do great. Whenever I've done those sorts of talks, I've gotten so nervous about it but after about 5 minutes, you loosen up. As long as you know your material, you can't really go wrong.

Power came on at some point in the night. We went to bed around 10 and they were still working on it. I woke up at some point and saw that the nightlight was on, did an internal squee, and went back to sleep. We had to dump everything in our fridge and freezer. Being powerless sucks!

Aaaand a pussycat version

GC, just ignore this if you've already thrown things out, but you've got 24-48 hours for things in the freezer, depending on how full it was.

GC - sorry about the power problems. That sucks, mucho.

As Joe said, I am home with Em today and these are the sick days I hate. She's fine, but has to be fever-free for 24 hours before going back to school. But she doesn't want to hibernate, she wants to do regular stuff. Which, if I don't let her, makes her crank-tastic. So I've chosen my battles, let her sit in our room and color and watch Too Much TV while I attempt to be productive. I've done the dishes and will start on laundry and dinner shortly. We also have our second Daisy meeting tonight, so I'm hoping that goes a lot better than the first one did.

I believe that Too Much TV is part of the recovery process.

Shir, you can't have rum raisin ice cream without raisins! They can't be banned!

I am at times as much 70 as I am 12 sigh.

::pets JZ and the rest of you::

I believe that Too Much TV is part of the recovery process.

Absolutely. I use that one every migraine day. Today, f'rinstance, there was Dollhouse and now there's going to be HIMYM back episodes.

JZ, I'm sorry about the dreams.

I got to go to a 7:30am meeting at a location 40 minutes away this morning. My gronk, let me show you it.

I got to go to a 7:30am meeting at a location 40 minutes away this morning.

Ew. That should be illegal.

I recently found out my dermatologist starts seeing patients at 7:30 am. Freaky morning person.

JZ, I'm sorry about the dreams.

I must say that my subconscious has a positively Hitchcockian sense of pacing and suspense-building. There was one tiny flash of gore in the dream, and all the rest of it was pure mounting dread and suggestion and sleight of hand (that scene when the boy and his father were hurrying down a hospital corridor, trying to escape but look casual doing it, and the boy got a few yards ahead of his father, turned a corner, and stopped to wait -- and then three long seconds ticked by as the knowledge descended on him that his father had been snatched from behind him and would never turn that corner, and that these few seconds of escape time while the killer was occupied were his father's last gift to him? Dark, despairing genius, and not a word of dialogue or a drop of blood, just a bustling corridor and a child's face.)

Which really only reminds me why I don't do horror movies in my waking life.

Back to the bunnies and the chocolate lab puppy!