My sister is coming over tomorrow, and we've ordered Chinese food for lunch and planning to watch a movie (though we haven't decided which one -- my mom said no to Wonder Woman 1984.) I'm not sure I'll be able to eat much of the Chinese food besides the rice -- all the articles about gallstones say not to eat anything greasy, and my stomach still isn't feeling great. I'd planned to make a vegan quiche for dinner, along with some hors d'oeuvre type things, and my sister is making mulled wine.
Natter 77: I miss my friends. I miss my enemies. I miss the people I talked to every day.
Off-topic discussion. Wanna talk about corsets, duct tape, butt kicking, or physics? This is the place. Detailed discussion of any current-season TV must be whitefonted.
I went to a parking lot candlelight communion (OK, flashlight communion) with Mom tonight, then had dinner over at her place and exchanged gifts. And got LDB'ed by the Christmas music channel she had playing in the background on TV. Damn you, Mormon Tabernacle Choir!
Oh well, at least I did get to hear the entirety of Elton John's "Step Into Christmas" earlier today while driving across town, so my holiday song needs were met before I was knocked out of the running.
I'm skipping. Merry Christmas, and ~ma to Hil and askye.
Batcat was doing better for a bit. And then not. We are putting her to sleep this morning.
She was such an excellent cat. Thank you for your ~mas.
Shir, I'm so sorry. She had a good life with you. May the stone cats welcome her back.
Batcat was doing better for a bit. And then not. We are putting her to sleep this morning.
I'm so sorry, Shir. Goodbye, most excellent and sweet Batcat. You were well loved in this world.
I’m sorry, Shir.
Forgot to post this earlier. Ooops.
A different exercise in jargon, but it still makes me laugh. The 1982 special Christmas sketch from Yes, Minister.
We'll the six year old woke a 2:30 am and basically didn't sleep again. So... Merry Christmas.
I'm so sorry, Shir. Much love and a gentle passage to Batcat.
Merry unexpectedly early Christmas, Gris (and, 6-year-old, please have some mercy on your poor parents!). I'm about to go back to bed myself; no one else is close to being up and moving, and I've just been waiting for an anxiety dream to fade so I can nod off again for the last little bit of the night.
Sometimes if I make up a good ending for the anxiety dream my brain will resolve it and go back to sleep.