Thanks, all. Bubble. Wrap. Am going to try to sleep now to be functional in the a.m. when I head up.

(Bizarrely, it's Easter, and the last two times she was in the hospital were Christmas and New Year's. What the hell?)

Easter pastel bubble wrap~ma to your mom, Jen.

Oh Jen, much ~ma for your mom! I'm glad you got to talk to her and can see her tomorrow.

Much ~ma to your mom, Jen.

What the hell?

Fuck Arbor Day! Fuck it!

~ma for your ma, Jen! No more falling down, on holidays or otherwise.

Sunburn, ouch, Connie. Do not like. Beaded things, however, I like (but never wear).

Fuck Arbor Day! Fuck it!

Darn trees and their... pollen.

Jen, noggin-ma for your mom!

I have a plot, and it's going to involve me getting this dress:

I love that! I have a wedding to go to in May, and I think I might just need a new dress. Hmmm.

I set the oven ON FIRE this week. I am not even joking. Not the stovetop; the oven. It was like something out of I Love Lucy. (Also, I am deeply suspicious that our smoke detector only works when it wants to.)

Yikes!

It was this whole deal where I made a cake last Saturday, in a lamb-shaped mold that fits together like a clamshell, but the top half has a lip all the way around it so it almost sits down over the bottom half. Anyway, the excess cooking spray from the top half dripped down on the floor of the oven while it was baking.

And yet -- it did not burst into flame then. Oh, no. On Sunday or Monday we were going to have pizza, and when we preheated the oven, smoke started billowing out. We quickly figured out it was the oil that dripped onto the floor of the oven, and ran around opening windows and grabbing fans to ventilate.

Tim finally kicked me out of the kitchen (wisely so), and when I checked on him a little later, he told me that the oil on the floor of the oven did actually catch fire. But -- according to him -- they were small flames. So he grabbed a sheet of aluminum foil that was there and set it over the inferno and it went out.

Through all of this, the smoke alarm in the dining room never went off. (Keep in mind this house is just under 900 sq. feet, and the dining room is right next to the kitchen.) I am dubious about the smoke alarm's ability to sufficiently warn us in time of an impending baking-related flamey disaster.

I love that! I have a wedding to go to in May, and I think I might just need a new dress. Hmmm.

Ooh, I bet it would look lovely on you, with your blonde hair.

I was going to lord it over J when he gets home tomorrow that Chet, our four-month-old puppy, had no housebreaking accidents the entire week he was gone--Because I am clearly the Chet Whisperer. Sadly, Chet peed in the house not once, not twice, but THREE times today. Way to regress, dude!

You know when you get in a productivity loop and can't. stop. doing? Yeah, I'm pulling myself out of one right now. But my house looks so much better! Totally worth it. And Nerdist podcasts make great background.