The sky has gone ominous. I think we're in for a thunderstorm very soon.

I'm more concerned with the lack of light in winter. Something so Northern will definitely demand a tropical winter retreat.

Or a lot of crackling fires and napping.

The ominous sky has already passed here in Highland Park. Not much thunderstorming though, which surprised me.

Torrential downpour, yes. Big boom, no.

No boom today. Boom tomorrow. There's always a boom tomorrow.

Lovely house, but the number of deer head in it is comical.

And Connie, ugh, sounds like the weather god in Utah went on another bender. Must remember to send a missive to our family there and see how they are doing. Aunty just started treatments herself, but I think she's seeing someone in Provo, not up at Huntsman.

Hopefully Aunty's treatment is more straightforward than Hubby's. He was supposed to check in for his month's stay yesterday--I've taken to calling it "going to camp", especially when he's packing--but he had some dental work yesterday morning at the Huntsman's request, and the novocaine has to be out of his system for 48 hours, so he's off to camp on Friday.

Some people think 5.5 hours from Edinburgh is a good thing, especially the more difficult they are.

I'm not saying I'm those people. After all, Fringe.

Being a twin must be complex.

Being a twin whose twin came back late too. I was there when Noah asked why Grace had the same last name as him, and I honestly almost cried. He was okay about that being because it was his sister.

The only metal tools I use are tongs. But I have two matching "caucasian" slashes on my right arm, because when I let the cookie sheets pile up dirty, two dry in the rack, two dry in the oven. And then days later I preheat the oven with sheets in them, remember too late, move them safely into the sink and swat them both simultaneously with my arm. Come on, baby, tan!

Oh, and Kat, I guess the trache surgery is a quantum leap. It's not necessarily a huge distance leap, but it's a significant change that takes a lot of energy to get past. Just...not the last.

Thank you Connie. She has pancreatic cancer, but at least it is the kind that is responsive to treatment. We are all very hopeful and staying positive.