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Monday, July 31, 2006
surgery's done
...and T is feeling way better at this point than I thought he might. I hope it's not all because of the Per-co-cet they gave him.
Also, if you live in Central California and you ever need surgery, go to the Fresno Surgical Hospital (Bullard and Fresno Sts). That place is AWESOME. Best medical personnel I have ever dealt with in my life, from the front desk on back. I swear to you that I have had worse days shopping for groceries than my husband had today, having surgery. So, wow. Thank you all for your prayers; I'm sure they helped.
Sunday, July 30, 2006
memes from Michael
1. Would you consider yourself to be flamboyant or fairly conservative?
um, yeah. Do I even have to answer this question? Conservative.
2. What is the most flamboyant thing about your appearance?
I sometimes wear red tank tops and sometimes my bra strap accidentally shows? My chin is prominent? I am kind of hard-pressed here.
3. Do you secretly wish you were more flamboyant? In what way?
No. Honestly I like that I am kind of an invisible uber-mom type who blends into the background pretty efficiently.
4. Where is the line between flamboyant and tacky for you?
I don't know. For some people to do a certain thing would just be part of their nature; for someone else to do the same thing it might be tacky. So maybe the line has to do with genuineness? No, because there are some things that I think are truly tacky no matter what the attitude of the person is. Not that I would announce such a thing. I know how it feels to be the tacky one and have people make an issue of it. Live and let live, tacky or not, is my fashion philosophy in a nutshell.
From Friday's Feast --
What's the funniest dream you can remember having?
I don't remember most of my dreams. Sometimes I'll remember one for part of the next day but generally I'll forget them by nightfall. For example, right now, I can't think of a single dream I've had in the past two weeks, except for part of one that I mentioned to T because it was scary. And I don't think I often have funny dreams.
If you were a dog, what breed would you be, and why?
I would be a mutt. A shaggyish, gangly, loving, friendly mutt. Like Ribsy but less skinny.
Continue this sentence: "I get confused when..."
...I hold the map upside down. Ordinarily I'm really good with maps and cities, even in complicated cities with a lot of one-ways, especially if I'm navigating rather than driving. Once, however, I got my directions a bit confused and forgot that while North was Up, it wasn't necessarily the direction that was directly in front of me, if you know what I mean, and I got really lost. In Fresno. On a cloudy day, so that once I was in an unfamiliar area my sense of direction got a wee bit shot Fortunately you can't throw a rock in Fresno without hitting a freeway, so I didn't stay lost long, and I got lost in a nice neighborhood. Still, no fun.
Name two things that need to be done, but you are procrastinating in completing.
I still have a laundry backup from our vacation. As for anything else, I know there IS something (probably many somethings), but I must be blocking it/them very successfully because I can't think of any.
When was the last time you tried something new, and what was it?
Probably recording for Librivox, about two weeks ago, and it's awesome, you should try it.
Saturday, July 29, 2006
duty update. Also, Jenn is thirty.
I know I should update this even though I am feeling really dry, and not in a good way, when it comes to writing. So here's a just-the-facts-ma'am post to keep the empty page away.
We're back from a few days' vacation in Morro Bay, where T rested his back a lot and we all had a pretty good time, and where it was 70 balmy degrees when it was a hundred and six at home, and where THE NIKON took its nine-thousandth picture. Did I mention that THE NIKON took its first picture on I think January 8th? Nine thousand pictures in approximately two hundred days, that's very nearly two rolls of film a day -- about $7 worth of developing in the old-fashioned film economy. Which means that THE NIKON paid for itself somewhere around the middle of June, give or take. If you add that to the over eight thousand that I took with The Nikon, that makes a total of over 17,000 pictures since last March. If I were to estimate the average shutter speed of those pictures at, ack, 1/60th of a second? that would translate to about four minutes and forty seconds of sensor exposure in both cameras, not counting cleaning times for THE NIKON. If I think of it in terms of Sanity Units Per Second, that is an EXTREMELY good deal. Not so good if I think of it in terms of dollars per second, however, so I won't. Better to think of it in dollars per sanity unit.
Um, what else. T is having his back operated on on Monday. I can't believe I forgot to tell you all that. He's having the less-invasive kind of surgery where they go in laparoscopically and remove the portion of his disc that bulged out into his spinal column. This means that his recovery time, instead of being measured in months (and quite a lot of them) as it would have been for the fusion we were originally talking about, will be measured in weeks, and not so terribly many of those. And the fusion is still an option if it's needed.
I hear you yawning. You could at least try to cover it. This is my husband's spine we're talking about here. Scintillating stuff.
******************************
In other news, Jenn turned thirty this week. I was going to do this maudlin did-we-ever-think-we'd-make-it-this-far post with pictures, kind of a Beaches montage trailer without the dying or the Bette Midler song (unless I could find a really cheezy MIDI file of it for effect) but I was away from my home PC when her numbers rolled over and it didn't seem as good to do it after the fact. But here, I can still put up a few pictures:

I'm 17 here, just starting my senior year, and Jenn at 16 was a year behind me.
I: Do you see my chin that digs a hole to China? Also, for some inexplicable reason, I am wearing teal eyeshadow.
Jenn: Dude, WHY are we looking at the sun? Whose idea was this? (uh, that'd be miss Chin-to-China there.)

Similar ages, I think this was about two months before the previous shot. We'd been hiking. I THOUGHT I WAS FAT. Just had to get that out of the way. [kicks 17-yo self].

Fun times.

It was the early 90's; it was so cool to act like hippies. Plus it really annoyed my brother and T who were also on this trip and at that stage of our lives we dearly loved to annoy my brother and T.

I: I am turning 18 tomorrow and I have a new and very squiggly perm and I want to show it off. Thank you for taking my picture.
Jenn: I am holding... a balloon? (probably my idea again).

I wasn't going to post this one (because I am NOT doing what it looks like I am doing, and because it's a bad scan of a blurry picture) but it was the only one I had on my computer of the two of us from junior high, which was when we met. Here I was around 14, maybe 13, and Jenn would have been 12. We used so much hairspray on our hair on a daily basis at this point in time that my dad still calls us "The Crispy Twins" eighteen years later.
And now both of those girls are on the plus-side of thirty, which at the time was a hazy number far away beyond anything we could really picture, I think. And if you can believe it I don't have a single picture of us together past the summer of 1993. MUST REMEDY THIS SOON JENN. Happy belated birthday, friend. I love you bunches.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
5-things meme from Kristen
How could I resist?
5 Things in my Refrigerator:
(I almost accidentally left Kristen's comment about being a sick pregnant woman here. HA! Hee hee. That would have been kind of funny, considering that high on the list of things one needs to be pregnant is a uterus, which I left at the hospital over a year ago and haven't missed since.)
1. Spring green mix, which I buy in big plastic tubs at Costco every two weeks whether I have run out or not. It's so cheap that I can just throw out the leftovers (tossing them into the field for the deer, of course) and put in the fresh tub. CONSPICUOUS CONSUMPTION. I am so eeevil.
2. Peaches. Yum.
3. Strawberries. Yum again.
4. A super-enormous Caramello bar in case of emergency.
5. Unidentifiable scary things in the crisper.
5 Things in my Closet:
I will leave out clothes because that's boring (half a dozen dresses I never wear and don't really like, some blouses I don't wear because they need to be ironed, and four linear feet of my husband's polos, slacks, and work uniforms). OK, so maybe "list separately" would be a better term than "leave out." So sue me.
1. My husband's Darth Vader mask/voice changer.
2. A memory box for each of my kids.
3. A 12-gauge shotgun. (take that, creepy Internet stalkers).
4. Shelves for folded clothes (Shelves in the closet! happy thought indeed!)
5. Assorted rolled-up artwork from the kids that's too big to fit anywhere else.
5 Things in my Purse:
1. My wallet.
2. Prescription sunglasses I've had since 1998.
3. A landfill. Well, not really. But sometimes you'd think so.
4. My Dart keys with my Dart Swinger key fob, which I must confess I kiss occasionally.
5. Hair stretchies for C.
5 Things in my Car:
My car... is clean. My car... has never been messy since I have owned it. I know now what I need for motivation to keep things clean. I just have to love them. Get me a house I love and hey, maybe I'd even keep that clean. Or maybe not. Anyway, on with the list.
1. Sun shields, which are too big for my windshield even though they are the smallest size we could find. Apparently they weren't so lavish with auto glass in 1972.
2. In the trunk: My 12-CD changer. T has the job of installing my stereo mostly done; he just needs to mount the stereo unit itself now.
3. Wet wipes (in the glove box).
4. Also in the glove box, chargers for my cell phone and T's.
5. A DISTINCT LACK OF MESS. In case you missed that.
Monday, July 17, 2006
things that have made me smile lately
You've got to ac-cen-tu-ate the positive, right? So here I go.
- Librivox.org. Because I really need another obsession. Especially a computer-related book obsession. This is an awesome site, it really is -- audio recordings of public-domain books, read by volunteers, available completely free. What's more fun than listening to them (for me anyway, since I dislike being read to unless I'm doing something that makes reading impossible -- such as driving -- and I don't have an iPod, although I'm beginning to really want one) is reading them. So far I've contributed a chapter to Vanity Fair and two (of five I volunteered for) to Anne of the Island. I'm contemplating doing Silas Marner as a solo project, since I've been wanting to record it for my dad anyway. Bonus: Because I needed to get a new microphone and download some editing software to do the Librivox thing, I can now do my dad's books on tape on CD instead, and, you know, actually edit the files to take out mistakes. Yay!
- Mary, one of my oldest online friends and a frequent commenter here, had her baby this weekend. GO MARY. You're awesome.
- More butterfly pictures. Stay tuned to (or stay away from) the photo blog this week.
- Summer reading. LT has discovered Roald Dahl and would rather read than sleep or eat. C has bookmarks in like five different books. Not that she gets that from ME or anything. Ahem.
- Um. I typed "summer" up there and my mind went blank. Our forecast for this week has highs of 105 degrees and a 20 percent chance of thunderstorms. At the same time. For several days running. Oops, sorry, positives. These are supposed to be positives. Um, we don't have to build fires to stay warm?
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
I'm a bad bad blogger.
I go through these meme-induced sprees of daily blogging that last for half a week or so and then I get the writing blahs and don't post anything (about... watching grass grow? the nail-bitingly tense games of Clue my family has taken to playing at night? North Korea? the letters my daughter writes to herself? do you see the problem here?) until the empty screen shows up and people start sending me emails about it. (it's a test, see, to see if you all notice I'm here or not. It's good to know who my real friends are.)
(um, kidding.)
But I'm not a bad daughter. Instead of blogging yesterday, I was out at my dad's house, helping him. Which is a switch, because historically the help has moved overwhelmingly in the other direction in that relationship; that's just the kind of guy my dad is. But even Superdad can't take the broken pump out of his well and put a new one in by himself. So at 7:45 in the morning I found myself at his house, where I took part of the roof off the wellhouse. Yes, I. Took the roof off. Me. Well, at least I took off about three sheets of corrugated tin. Ahem. Then he, I, and my 78-year-old grandmother -- the spunky one, not the whiny one nor the dead one, bien sûr -- hauled a 75-lb pump attached to 120 feet of PVC pipe (which was of course full of water) out the well hand-over-hand. In case you haven't gathered, this is very hard work. Then after a drive to town where my dad spent an absolutely ginormous amount of money to buy a new pump and new PVC pipe and new wiring and rope and all kinds of clever technical stuff, we went back to his house where he, my brother, and I (Grandma having gone into town to have lunch with her girlfriends and organize a church directory photography session) did the even harder job of putting it all down the well, one 20-foot section of PVC at a time, through the hole I had so skillfully made in the roof. And then we took it all out and did it again, because we'd forgotten something at the bottom. Amazingly, the only injury I incurred during this entire process was a small rope burn on my thumb; I almost knocked myself off the ladder with the help of a wobbly section of pipe helicoptering around my head, but I stayed upright; in fact I managed to avoid major catastrophe completely. I had never sweated so much in my adult life, however, so as soon as the men were hunched over the technical stuff where there was no room for me to hunch even if I could have helped (wiring is not my bag, it's one of those things I'm scared to mess with), after I put the roof back together, I took my kids and my nephews down to the creek and we all jumped in. Granted, from a hygiene perspective, the sweat was probably preferable to the sandy, mossy, fishy creek water that had been running through cow pastures for about fifteen miles, but who cares. Plus there's that whole "floating on my back staring up at the sunlit alder leaves against the sky" thing, too. Very relaxing, just what my poor offended muscles needed.
Another thing I've been doing instead of blogging is trying to figure out what pictures I'm going to enter in the fair. I think I have it pretty well narrowed down so I'm not going to do that thing like I did last year when I ask everyone to go over to my photo blog and make suggestions. However, I am sick to death of all my flower pictures and I think I'll skip that category unless there's one that particularly stands out for other people. Not that I'm asking for input or validation, or fishing for compliments, or anything. I'm just saying.
We were really late signing the kids up for the summer reading program this year (and I never did get around to joining the one that Kat told me about); we only did it yesterday. They've had their noses glued in books since before we got home from the library. It's hard to tear them away long enough to do just about anything. You know how I hate that. Ahem. LT is reading Tuck Everlasting, which I think he's about to finish, and C is alternating between American Girl books and the Boxcar Children series, with some Saddle Club thrown in for good measure. I have got to gently nudge her away from boilerplate ghostwritten series books or else the next thing I know she'll be reading the Sweet Valley Twins and I may have to go throw myself off a bridge. I think I'll put her on a diet of Beverly Cleary and Mrs. Frisby and Narnia, and see if it'll pull her out before it's too late.
Thursday, July 06, 2006
dilly dallying
I'm supposed to be typing. Well, I am typing, but I'm supposed to be typing something very specific, namely a transcription of an audio file that is queued up and waiting for me to stop putting it off and do my work already. It's funny, because yesterday when I was muttering and slamming things around and frustrated about the whole tenant/back surgery/work/money/everything thing, I was thinking what a great time it would be to have a transcription job come in. Then about five minutes after I had that thought I checked my email and there was a message from the guy who hires me to do this stuff. It's a small job but every little bit helps make me more sane. So yay.
The only problem is, I didn't buy any Jolly Ranchers today (after our last frightening non-tenant experience, we're being VERY careful not to spend any money until it is actually in our hot little hands. This even extends to Jolly Ranchers, since if I stop off at the store to just buy a $1.70 bag of candy, our bank account will inevitably be at least $20 lighter after I've checked out. Hey, admitting I have a problem is the first step toward healing, right?). I think this is why I can't get motivated properly. I have a few left over from my last job, but they've been around a while and humidity and Jolly Ranchers don't play well together. So I'm a little afraid to look at them.
Also, in the 'ha ha very funny God' department, we have had six serious calls about our apartment today, and I had to tell every one of them that it was already taken but thank you very much. That God, he sure has a sense of humor.
Also, I used the weedeater today. IT WAS FUN, and I did a good job. And what a feeling of empowerment! Any time I saw a thicket of tall weeds today (and living where I do, this is not at all an uncommon experience), I would think, I could weedeat that. Before, weedeating was a mystery, an enigma, a task best left to my betters. Now I have conquered. Next up: the chainsaw. (or... maybe not. Some things a clumsy girl just shouldn't try. But then again, it's not like T's going to be using one anytime soon.)
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
OK, I am done whining now.
And not just because someone came and agreed to rent the apartment just now, either. Although that certainly helps. Thank you, God; I'll bet you're having a good laugh at me this evening. That's OK. It's good to know I'm good for something.
Off to finish cleaning my room and then play another good rousing match of CLUE! with the kids. Or else maybe before it gets dark I'll use the weedeater, which I've never done before. If I can remember all the steps Dad showed me to make the thing work. Me using a machine I've never touched before in my life: don't you wish you were here with a video camera? And maybe a tourniquet?
I am SO SO BITTER right now.
Don't you love it when you're trying not to worry and then you start to worry about how much you worry? Fun.
This is T's first day back at work since before Mother's Day. His back hurts. He's on light duty. He hates the idea of light duty. His boss is either carrying a grudge or terrified he'll re-injure himself on work time and hence make it his (the boss's) problem, and he seems to be wanting to take this out on T in a passive-aggressive way that makes me want to scream. (I do all the 'wanting to scream' and actual [rare bouts of] screaming in our family. T is not precisely unruffled, but things like this, he just plain internalizes, and they manifest themselves as ulcers and backaches and all kinds of crazy fun stuff like that. I think my way is probably healthier, if less comfortable). We are STILL WAITING (as in, I am playing phone tag and hold/answering-system roulette with the office as I type this) for word from the doctor's office as to whether he will or will not be having surgery, which means we are still waiting to find out whether he will ever be able to go back to his normal life or if he'll be on light duty and unable to pick up anything heavier than ten pounds for the rest of his life.
me bitter?
Also, the flaky non-tenant (see Saturday's "definition" post) sent us into a whirl of panic, not the least of reasons for which is that, on the strength of his assertion that he would arrange with the previous tenant to get her things out (they are friends) and his stuff in on the first, we had just bought a new refrigerator for the apartment AND done a really big and necessary grocery shopping trip on the day this would presumably be occurring, when we got home to his message on our answering machine (see above re: flaky) telling us he'd changed his mind. So we've been advertising the place for five days and had two nibbles, one of which already turned out to be nothing, the other of which I am trying not to hope for because I think they think the place is too small and are just too polite (and flaky, me bitter?) to tell us to our faces, so they're just going to let us dangle until we figure out they're not interested. I keep telling myself that all this must be for a very good reason. Maybe God has a tenant who will need that space and love it and be the most awesome neighbor and reliable payer in the world, and maybe today that tenant is going to realize his/her situation and call us. Any time with that, God. Anytime at all. Or maybewe're supposed to give up my cell phone, my website, our DSL, and our XM subscription (this last would be fine with me, but the rest... I drag my feet, shall we say) so that we can Learn A Lesson and eke out an existence without subletting the space at all. Hey, at least I'd have my sewing room. And LOTS OF TIME to use it.
Also, did I mention that T is back at work after two months off? The missing him, it hurts. Especially since he has to spend the night up there tonight and possibly for three nights a week from next Monday until hell freezes over the road to his shop gets fixed. Unless his boss allows him to take the bus even though that would technically cut into his work day. HA HA HA. Tee hee. Yeah, that'll happen. ha ha.
Monday, July 03, 2006
questions & answers
This originally had 100 questions. I deleted all the ones that I'd answered multiple times in various memes over the past three years (I've been importing old entries from Diaryland to here, partly so that I had my whole backup in one place, and oh my gosh have I done a ton of these. Another thing I discovered during the import process is that it's nice to have this as a record even if I don't feel like writing in it at the time. So I'm going to try to be better about writing more often, instead of figuring that I never write here so why pay money to keep it around).
ONE OF YOUR SCARS, HOW DID YOU GET IT?
This is actually hard to choose. I'll go with my biggest non-surgical scar which is on my shin, and I got it in 1993 when I was visiting Jenn in LA. We were waiting for a bus, only we were waiting on the opposite side of the street from the bus route we actually wanted because there was a bench in the shade. So when we saw the bus coming, we jumped off the back of the bench where we'd been sitting to dash across the street. Except that I smacked my shin against a fire hydrant on the way down, and when I looked at the wound you could see through the thin layer of fat on my shin (I'm sure it's thicker now) down to the muscle beneath it. I didn't get it stitched because I was 300 miles from my insurance card and my mother; when I got home a couple of days later we went to the doctor but he said it was too late to do anything about it, other than do cosmetic surgery after it had healed to get rid of the scar. Which obviously we never did, or I'd be telling you about the time I drove my bicycle into a pole when I was four, instead of telling you this story.
WHAT DOES YOUR CELL PHONE LOOK LIKE?
Um. It's silver, with a swoopy blue shape on the front of it and a little square LCD display that lights up in different colors. It's two years old now so I'm sure it's completely outdated.
DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME YOU WERE BORN?
12:15 AM, although the hospital staff put 12:45 on my birth certificate so that my parents wouldn't have to pay for the extra day in the hospital (they tried to hold off going in until after midnight but they gave in at around 11:30).
WHAT DO YOU MISS?
3 br 2 ba on 5 acres for $100K. Definitely.
WHAT IS YOUR MOST PRIZED POSSESSION?
THE NIKON.
DO YOU GET CLAUSTROPHOBIC?
When I'm under a lot of stress I feel kind of claustrophobic, and being in a small space makes it worse, but that's different, isn't it.
WHO IS THE LAST PERSON YOU MADE MAD?
I assume it was T. Or maybe one of the kids.
DO YOU SPEAK A DIFFERENT LANGUAGE?
Sometimes I feel like I definitely do.
(I know, I know, not what was meant. I can hold a very basic conversation in French as long as the other person speaks slowly and I can stick to present or present perfect tense; because I know French and live in California I can read very basic Spanish but don't expect me to understand it when it's spoken).
WHAT WAS THE FIRST GIFT SOMEONE EVER GAVE YOU (OF THE OPPOSITE SEX)?
I had a boyfriend when I was fourteen or so who gave me a ludicrously furry stuffed cat for Valentine's Day, with a little heart between its paws that said "I love you." I cherished this singularly stereotypical early-teen-boy gift; I hugged it and cried when he broke up with me. In other words, no, there wasn't an original bone in my hormone-laden body.
WHAT IS ONE OF YOUR DREAMS?
Lately I have this recurring nightmare where I find out that people have been making fun of my children -- at Sunday school, Awana, their friends' house, etc. Gee, the dream analysis on THAT one is just a stumper, isn't it.
WHAT IS THE ONE NUMBER YOU CALL MOST OFTEN?
Probably home, from my cell.
YOUR WEAKNESSES?
I think I've pretty much spent the last three years or so blogging about them; you should be able to find them out for yourself without too much effort.
WHAT WERE YOU DOING BEFORE YOU FILLED OUT THIS SURVEY?
Posting pictures to my photo blog and waiting for the ibuprofen to kick in and give my poor gluteus maximus some relief. I hadn't quite fully recovered from moving a refrigerator down a flight of stairs a couple of days ago when I went for a loooong hard walk today, which I should either do more often (definitely the smarter answer) or not at all. THE PAIN.
WHAT DO YOU GET COMPLIMENTED ABOUT MOST?
The way my children behave in public, and now my car.
WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF ALCOHOL BECAME ILLEGAL?
Remarkably, my life would be unchanged. Shocking, I know.
WHAT DO YOU WANT FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY?
happy fantasy: A trip to Morro Bay and a replacement 70-300mm macro lens (mine only works at 300mm now). Reality: some nice solid refrigerator magnets, books, and a ducky key chain. And, well, maybe the lens? :) (it IS nearly six months away).
WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?
I was named after a Dolly Parton and Porter Waggoner song called "Sweet Rachel Ann". But my middle name's not Ann.
DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING?
When I take my time with it. I'm out of practice, though, so my hand gets tired fast.
WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT?
Salsa turkey, yum yum.
ANY BAD HABITS?
It's not so much that I have bad habits (except interrupting) as it is that I don't have enough good ones.
DO YOU UN-TIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF?
Depends on the shoe. If I don't have to in order to get it off, I generally don't.
WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW?
The fishtank bubbler, my own raucous typing, and blessed, blessed silence.
LAST THING YOU ATE?
A banana.
LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE?
Jenn. I was talking on the cell phone with the hands-free attachment and my son walked into the kitchen to stare into the refrigerator, growing-boy-style. I heard him kind of grunting, and after wondering what was up for about three sentences (I was relating a story about something but I can't remember what it was now), I asked him if he needed my help. It turned out that he thought I was talking to him, so he was making little "mm. mm-hmm" noises. I found this enormously funny at the time. Maybe you had to be there.
LAST THING YOU WATCHED?
The sunset. Oh, on the TV? The kids were watching the Gumby Movie this morning and now I totally have the theme music to it in my head.
WHAT BOOKS ARE YOU READING?
I'm reading Vanity Fair right now. I'm really liking it, which shows that my practice of putting a classic book aside if I can't get into it and trying it again later works at least some of the time.
Saturday, July 01, 2006
definition
living beyond yourself (gerund phrase): 1. not smiting flaky people who tell you on the very day they were supposed to be paying you first/last/deposit and moving into the apartment you sub-let that they won't be taking it after all. 2. smiling when you run out of gas 3. not knocking a doctor over the head even when s/he tells you the direct opposite of what the doctor who referred you to her told you about your condition. 4. not blowing up Costco with homemade incendiaries.
I think that about covers my weekend so far.




