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I have both pleather pants and caftans. I'm not absolutely positive the pleather pants fit me right now, because they are not summer friendly.

I just read this the other day in a novel and it hit me where I live:

Grief is like getting stuck in the same cyclone over and over and over again. And every time, you think, Man, I have got to get out of the way of this fucker, and then the next time you find you haven’t budged a fucking inch.

-t that is a perfect quote about grief. Every time I have a big success in the kitchen or cook something that Papa would have liked I have a moment of wanting to call him.

-t, what sj said.

So there's an actual escaped murderer wandering around, since last Thursday. They've got dogs and helicopters and state police, but so far no luck. And the guy stabbed his girlfriend 37 times in front of her kids, so ... an actual armed and dangerous type. Good times.

Jesus, Amy!

I still do the newsletter for the nuns affiliated with my high school. Occasionally they have a random design thing they need me to do, like an invitation or a flyer. I've been doing the newsletters for close to 20 years, and I archive all my work files, so the nuns have realized if they need a specific photo, it's easiest to contact me, rather than the nun in charge of the newsletter.

All that is to explain that I got an email over the weekend with the subject line "Sister Mary Jerome needs your help!" Part of me was really expecting to open the email and find a link to a GoFundMe or something. But no, Sr. Jerome just needed some photos from me. (She also told me that the nuns have been praying for Tim's recovery from surgery, and I told him "You have a whole convent praying for you! No wonder your recovery has been so good!")

Yikes, Amy! Stay safe.

I’m still having the worst trouble concentrating without someone in the house. I’m trying to stay active by switching from task to task, but it is not working today.

Tim had PT today (still at home; the PT comes to the house), so he's napping in the recliner with an ice back on his back. *I* did something yesterday to tweak my lower back/hip area, so I have a hot microwave beanbag on my back. We are poster children for The Human Back And How It Sucks Big Time.

I'm also shopping for Halloween-themed clothes in another window. I don't want warm weather to go away, but I am apparently gradually accepting the inevitability of fall. And honestly, thanks to climate change, it stays warm here until well into October. This means the Halloween-themed clothes can't be sweaters, or even anything long-sleeved (thanks, perimenopause). I wear short sleeves until it's below 50 degrees now. I don't wear sweaters until it's in the 30s.

"You have a whole convent praying for you! No wonder your recovery has been so good!"

Aw, I don't know why I'm getting such warm fuzzies from this, but I am!

I wore short sleeved things with long cardigans pretty much all winter last year. I miss cozy sweaters but the minute I get inside somewhere I want to rip them off. Perimenopause is an asshole.