Oh, and sometime in the early seventies, he contacted the Austrian embassy to see if he could get the certificate saying he was an Austrian lawyer. The lack of that piece of paper had bothered him his whole adult life. He didn't actually want to practice law, he just wanted the paper. The embassy said that he'd have to pass that last exam to get it.

My BIL's dad was a rather prominent lawyer in Havana, but he got his family out in the last plane out of Cuba before Castro shut it down in 1962. He never practiced law in the States, but I'm not too sure what he did instead.

BIL's sister is older (from his dad's first marriage), so she was already married with kids in 1962. She lived on the same block as Castro's mistress, so whenever he'd come over to visit/get a little nooky, his security forces would shut down the entire block. She hated it, so she and her family were on the same plane out with her dad, his second wife, and BIL, who was 3 at the time.

My mom taught me to sew a little bit, and I have her amazing all-metal workhorse of a machine. But putting in or replacing a lining? Nope, not my skill-level. Most of my (dubious) sewing skills have been learned through trial and error over the years.

Hi, guys.

Brane ded. I'm ded.

I got home last night, and I slept 12 hours last night in my own bed MY OWN BED. Bliss. I still need a long hot shower and about 12 more hours of sleep and a bottle of Tylenol.

We were supposed to get back Monday night, but Kelly had more work come in than expected, so we spent a little more time getting to Detroit and back than we thought.

It was lots of fun, and I will detail it more, and I have tons of pix, but ye gods, am I TIRED! Doing something like this at 40 is different than 25 or 30!

Thanks to everyone who helped with my costume - the costumes there were, for the most part, amazing. I went up and down 7 floors of Masonic temples probably 3 times that night. My ass STILL hurts from all the stairs -- I am SO GLAD wore boots. People kept moving out of my way and calling me ma'am or milady. I think a lot of people thought I was a dom. That's ok, though; they got out of my way.

And gay guys took a lot of perverse pleasure in balancing things on my boobs, but I didn't mind.

Need more coffee. Missed the internet, missed you guys.

Okay, please check me on this:

I've had a sore throat for, I don't know at this point, 4-5 weeks. Last week's strep test was negative. I don't *think* it's a cold, though it could be.

It truly didn't occur to me until this morning that it could just be allergies, and maybe I just need to switch my damned antihistamine. I mean, I usually have to switch in the spring when claritin stops working, so maybe Allegra isn't holding up to fucking ragweed.

I say that I don't think it's a cold because the only nasal/sinus symptoms I've had are occasional mad sneezing fits and an itchy nose. No stuffy head, no nasty snot, nothing. Also really itchy, watery eyes.

And my throat really is a combination of sore and itchy. So...allergies? Fuck Allegra and switch to something else to see?

I can't believe I didn't think of it until now. Sheesh.

Allergies are a definite possibility, Tep. I was fine in Michigan, but about 45 minutes into Illinois, my allergies hit like a freight train.

First: All good thoughts for bonny and Bartleby.

I loved your introspective ramble, Maria. Just lovely.

I inherited a coat from a cousin that fit me like a dream, and had a lining of color-shift satin that I would have worn against naked skin. The coat felt amazing on and was warm as could be. Unfortunately it was a ghastly color somewhere between mud and eggplant that I just couldn't stand. I did inquire about having it dyed, but the cost was prohibitive. I mourned the surrender of that coat to someone else, but I knew I'd never wear it in public.

H's dad was a concert tenor and violist in Ukraine. When he, his bride and baby H survived the DP camp in Augsburg, got a sponsor and were allowed to come to the US, his first work was farm labor--which he knew nothing about. He left that for the steel mill because it paid better. He did eventually find more stimulating work as a mechanic, and then as a machinist-designer. My MiL worked piecework in a dress factory--they traded off shifts so somebody would always be home with the kids.

FiL watched two of the guys hired the same day as him rise through the ranks to executive positions--they weren't smarter, in fact the reverse was often true. The difference was, FiL spoke with an accent. A lot of people equate that with a lack of understanding, and that, with a lack of intelligence. People can be dumb.

So possibly allergies. Mine are way different in Spring and Fall. I hope you find some relief quickly.

Going to get Claritin after work. Come on, antihistamines!

FiL spoke with an accent. A lot of people equate that with a lack of understanding, and that, with a lack of intelligence. People can be dumb.

That sets me off like nothing else can. Jackasses will still come into the restaurant and tell my father to go back where he came from, because he can't speak English properly. Or they do the slow talking--with the raised voice (he's neither deaf nor dumb, assmonkey)--and then huff and puff because they actually have to pay attention to his response if only because they aren't used to hearing his accent.

One time, maybe 5 years or so ago, a drunk came in and wanted to buy a six-pack to go. We can't sell alcohol to a visibly intoxicated person, and he took offense. He took greater offense that someone with an accent told him this, and began ranting that he was going to call ICE (though he said INS) and have my father deported. I saw red, and went off. Ballistic is too tame. I was thisclose to kicking his ass, but I settled for a few choice words and serving him with a letter of trespass that bars him from ever setting foot on our property again. Now those words weren't all that polite, but oh boy were they warranted.