Peter Graves is dead.

Does anyone else remember Whiplash, in which Peter Graves is an American running a stagecoach business in frontier Australia?

Speaking of meds, I took my Ambien a little bit ago, and started playing sudoku. Before the Ambien started to kick in, sudoku was just a number puzzle. And now that the drugs have kicked in (and, oh, they HAVE), sudoku has turned into a scenario where I have to chaperone and cat-herd a bunch of unruly adolescent numbers into their cabins at summer camp.

I have NO idea where that came from. And yet, 8 is an unruly bastard and I can never find where 6 went.

I'd blame the time change on my headache, but Sunday headaches seem to be a regular occurabce these last few weeks. Do not want!!

Man, that Ambien sounds like a awesome trip.

Consuela, you'll pleased to know that Matilda did the six foot rock climbing wall at the playground four times. She only needed a little spotting from me.

My prior complaint was unwarranted. Had a very easy day out with Matilda and Emmett in the East Bay.

We got over there early and stopped by Target. I ran in and got Matilda overnight diapers (she's done with daytime) and got her a Princess Tiana doll and Emmett some Legos (small cheap set). They were both way pleased with their $10 presents.

Dropped Emmett at practice. Matilda hit the playground hard for an hour, and then contentedly climbed in the stands while we watched batting practice.

Then we took Emmett to do his interview, and Matilda and I poked around at B&N until he was done.

I also slipped a quick grocery run in.

So I'm a little wiped but the only tsurris was waking Matilda up when we got back home.

Man, that Ambien sounds like a awesome trip.

Oh, I'll get #6. Just wait.

Step away from the sudoku.

I am the master at gaslighting myself. Went to fill a pitcher in the kitchen. While that went on, went to the basement to turn on the dehumidifier. OMG! Sound of water running! ACK! What's leak...oh, filling pitcher upstairs.

Swear to god.

Nice to hear about a good day.

I tried on some of the whatever London stuff at Target today. Nothing that totally grabbed me (other than a peacock print dress that was totally Ulli from Project Runway. Especially, as it turned out, in being cut for people with no boobs. Or no desire to have them either covered or supported in any way.)

But it was size 4 and it fit. Looked like ass, but fit.

Just got off the phone with my mom, who is on vacation in Florida with my stepsister and her family. Mom's finally going to get her English bulldog next Sunday when she returns!!! She's been in contact with the local rescue group who have been keeping an eye out for the type she wants, and Millie (formerly Matilda but shortened at the foster home) fits the bill. She's about 45-50 pounds, estimated 4-5 years old (she was a shelter dog with no info when the rescue group got her), reddish in spots, darker brown in others, and my brother has already found her sweet spot on her back which, when scratched, sends her into eyerolling, tongue-dangling bliss.

When the foster mom told Mom that if she wants to get Millie back from a potential escape, all she has to do is open the car door, Mom cracked up (as did I when she told me). You see, our first dog was a bulldog who was in love with the car, so this is perfect.

But it was size 4 and it fit.

Nice!