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••• Thursday, November 13, 2003



Happy Birthday
Today: Dad. He would've been 75 and likely preparing for annual trek north to lay down some bovine of the deer variety. Opening day rifle season is November 15. He was always home for my birthday, but never my mom's.

Tomorrow: Me. 45. Is that offically the middle of middle age? I have no feelings about this one way or the other. I do have a bling bling appointment on my birthday. Does this demark some deep-rooted issue? ::snort::

November 15th: Dad's baby sister, Aunt Dorothy and her daughter Ginny. Aunt Dort is the remaining sibling of a family of 8.

November 16th: Mom's sister, Aunt Marilyn.

November 17th: Mom. She'll be 74 and hopefully very happy with her Indulgence Shell Shawl. A girl can dream, can't she?


I had another post planned for today, but...geesh...I don't even have time to get into it. Let's just say I've been living the life of a hapless cartoon character the last two days. I'm sure these events could be interesting reading material, but at this point I haven't even tallied them all, let alone processed and organized.

Think Ziggy tag teamed by the Road Runner and Bugs Bunny.

Smock Rock, now De-frocked
Well, Defrocked is a strong word, but it rhymes. Let's just say that hours on the smocking are no longer clocking.

But here's the back completed.

I'm gonna miss you baby! But I have Christmas procrastinations to lament.



I'm sorry for not responding to comments lately or getting around to the blogs. Both of these favorite activities are current collateral casualties of the black humor conspiracy which is now my life.

I gotta go. No idea when I'll be back. Tings are just a wittle too cwaazy.
# posted by Marcia @ 9:22 AM


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