February 20, 2007
How rich are you?
To get a good grasp of where you fall in the grand scheme of things in our great big ol’ world, check out just how rich you are. All you have to do is enter your annual income and you’ll find out.
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February 20, 2007
Square Footage Blowout
Sometimes, every once in a great while, you hear something that sounds perfectly innocuous, but just throws you through a loop. And you can’t even figure out why, really. It just does.
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February 19, 2007
Happy Birthday George!
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February 16, 2007
Boring
I got nuthin’. Wow. Life has settled down so much that I really do not have a single thing about which to write.
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February 15, 2007
Something smells fishy
Oh wait. It’s me.
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February 15, 2007
E-coli is so not romantic
Valentine’s Day was good, despite my Valentine having only one useable arm. My boy planned in advance, and had the card and my gift all ready to go. What did he get me, you ask? Well, he got me the best thing in the world: a Starbucks gift card. Does my boy know me or what? He’s a good doobie.
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February 14, 2007
First Carousel Ride
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February 13, 2007
Those must be some gooood meds
He woke up a bit ago, to drink some soda, eat some crackers and soup, and use the bathroom.
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February 13, 2007
“Ohhh…he’s a puker…”
This morning we arose at 5 a.m., got ready, and headed to the surgery center so M could get his long-broken shoulder repaired. To catch those of you up to speed who may not know, M has had problems with his right shoulder since high school. Too much volleyball. This, of course, did not keep him from living, eating and breathing volleyball throughout college, nor did he stop playing once he graduated. The shoulder has been getting gradually worse, until finally this year he decided he couldn’t take it anymore. Part of that had to do with it being painful to pick up his own child. He made an appointment with an ortho surgeon, and we bet it was a torn rotator cuff.
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February 12, 2007
Mustgo
I’m getting into my mode again, which is resulting in a massive effort to clean things up, clean things out, and cross things off the “things to do” list. You know my mode. Where I say, “We have too much crap!” and I start getting rid of things. M runs and hides his toys when I get into this mode. I’ve got a warning for you, buddy: the RC helicopter that has resided, unflown, on top of your dresser for the past six months is about to go. And no, flying it tonight does not grant it a pardon, temporarily or otherwise.
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