It was Richard Petty.

It was Richard Petty.

Oh, yeah. His was a gem of old-fashioned insulting insight. I'd honestly forgotten about that but it's totally been news.

Danica isn't a great driver but she's a decent to good driver and she brings a hell of a lot of attention to the sport with her distinctive image. Much like Richard Petty and his iconic image of the ornate cowboy hat and sunglasses. Given that it's a business first and a sport second, marketing matters. She brings viewers.

I know that feeling so well Cass, that bittersweet feeling of sharing something with someone who is gone. I'm glad your dad's guy won.

I am feeling ugh. I was totally having a good weekend food-wise, then things got needlessly stressful and here I am downing candy and pretending to grade.

that bittersweet feeling of sharing something with someone who is gone.

It was exactly this.

that bittersweet feeling of sharing something with someone who is gone.

Oh yes. I'm glad you got that, Cass.

Came home to a pile of poop on the bed from one cat. The other one just deposited some turds on the sofa. I give up on today.

Came in to work to find there are company-wide internet issues. Can't connect to supplier sites, company benefit sites, etc. I tried to visit my bank's site - blocked, hit a link to something on Amazon - blocked, thought, "Wow, gonna be a boring day without being able to check in on Buffistas." - not blocked! Clearly I'm meant to be here! Buffistas are approved!

Erin, sorry about the unexpected "gifts". Furry roommates can be so difficult sometimes.

There was an Irish short story I read as a kid. An old saint buys a (I think) bullock. At any rate his conscience starts bothering him because he thinks he paid too little. Meanwhile the seller's conscience bothers him because he thinks he charged too much. So the two seek each other out with the seller trying to give money back and the buyer trying to pay extra money. Cannot remember title or author or even for certain whether it was a short story or short play. Anyway, if you happen to know what I'm referring to, please ...

I feel very sorry for anyone who tries to maintain a job through chemotherapy. Even aside from how wasted Hubby is, he's in a doctor's office a few times a week, and now he's going to be getting platelet transfusions a couple of times a week. That's a couple of hours right there, and the Benedryl they give him for the allergic reactions wipes him out.

I discovered something interesting about his world view. To his knowledge, he's never had a blood transfusion, and the idea of someone else's blood running through his veins weirds him right out. His sense of self is rooted very strongly in his physical being, and someone else's blood in his veins blurs the line in his mind of who he is. So far it looks like he'll be able to be his own bone marrow donor, and it gnaws on him, that someone else's marrow could be "down in the bones" of him. I'll try to get him to see that donations are neutral, but I'll let him have his wig out for now. I don't think it's anything about the actual physical reality of transfusion, he has cadaver bone in his spine and it doesn't bother him.

Spiritual beliefs are pretty primal in my house.

Weird. I've donated blood many times and I've never thought of the blood as mine once it's in the bag. Now I find myself wondering who else out there has a little of me in them. And it is indeed a little freaky.