Feh.*

Random Sludge
I’ve been a little under the weather the past week, suffering from some kind of gluey, sinus sludge. And as this substance makes a slow and less-than gracious exit from my body, I can’t help but worry that I'm actually expelling brain glue; essential material for holding together the bits and pieces of my brain. ::With the help of some twigs, yarn and duct tape.::

::But I will say that DayQrunk is my new best friend. MmmMm...How I loves me some warmy orange.::

I’ve also been physically and mentally busy with work and home issues. The worst of the physical work stuff is almost winding down. Almost. I have cranked out three reports in the last two days, with no coming up for air in between.

But the emotional work is yet to come, when our department will have take a hard look at the full impact of losing two full time staff for next year.

The home situation is complicated, and getting moreso by the hour it seems. At the risk of being cryptic, I can only say that we have some changes going on in someone's (not me) professional venue. These are good changes, in light of what was soon to become a dire circumstance. But not so great when considering the wider scope of someone's hopes and dreams and in the interest of optimal family function.

Again, I'm sorry for the vague-y ness,but that's all can say, and really, the whole story is kind of boring. Unless, of course, you’re living it.

Truth be, we are both grateful and relieved for this Timely Save and will not be looking this Blessing Horse in the mouth, any time soon.

It's complicated.
And emotion sucking.
And thought plucking.

Random Dudes on Couches
Meanwhile, College Tumor Boy is home, as of Saturday. Following are stats related his return, to date:

1-Number of jobs applied for.
0-Number of jobs procured.
3-Number of times he has reminded me that his uncle has offered to pay him 200 bucks to powerwash his deck this summer, so no worries if he can’t find a real job.
1-Number of laptops he owns.
0-Number of laptops he owns which have been unpacked and fired up.
1-Number of laptops I own
0-Number of laptops I own, to which I currently enjoy full access.
1.5-Number of boxes of Town House crackers consumed.
1-Number of jars of peanut butter consumed.
13-Number of times I have heard "What's to eat in this house?"
0-Number of unemployed friends currently in town for the summer, with whom he might be able to hang, off my couch. Away from my home.
1-Number of vehicles as yet unpacked of all worldly goods, minus the as-of-yet-unfired-up laptop and a bottle of acne medicine.
1579-Number of times I have said to self “How handy it is that all his belongings are still in his car, in the event of Sudden Homelessness?”
14-Number of hours per day spent listening to screaming sportscasters on my T.V.
5-3/4-Number of total feet taken up on the couch, while sleeping to the sound of screaming sportscasters on my T.V.
5-Approximate hour of the morning he goes to bed.
3-Approximate hour of the afternoon he awakens.
.5-Number of bottles of my hooch he has consumed.
6-Number of times he has used the word “tweak” in describing his observation of my increasingly destabilizing emotional presentation in response to all of the above.
0-Amount of hope in possession, that any of this will be changing soon, except maybe the numbers.

Random Time Passing
I meant to post about this way last week, but I was busy with an unglued brain. So let's just pretend it happened two days ago, and call it good. K?

The weekend with My Circle of Brain was a wonderful treat, but a bit more subdued than our maidenhead voyage back in January.In hindsight, a bit more subdued might be a good thing, in that any attempts to match or surpass on previous crazy, could have resulted in someone getting hurt, or arrested or famous.

And because we were guests in someone else's home, it was probably best to keep Kristi off her high horse, and the sanitary products stuck to the proper side of our underwears, and Kellie from shooting/posting recordings of activities that could get someone hurt, arrested or famous.

But there was plenty of fun to be had.
And good drink.
And, of course, good company.

Kellie did write up a picture-laden, detailed summary of our all too brief time together. Scroll down for a picture of me, popping my freak in a new pair of sunglasses that are just about bigger than my head.

:: The following will make more sense if you read Kellie’s post. ::

In honor of our surviving the weekend together, I have created a new scarf design:

Drama on the High (Neuro) Seas: A Pattern
1) Cast on an odd number of stitches, depending on your width preferences.

2) If you are really confused about how many stitches you should cast on, ask your friends their opinion about how many stitches you should cast on.

3) Argue with each and every solicited opinion about how many stitches you should cast on, then come up with a 4th option, all on your own. Cast on that amount of stitches.

4) Repeat the High (Neuro) Seas pattern (see below) until you reach desired length, but not long enough for someone to use against you in an attempted homicide.

High (Neuro) Seas Stitch Pattern:
1) Row 1: purl

2) Row 2: k3 *k2tog, yo * to last 7 stitches, then knit whatever the fuck you feel like, to the end of the row.

3) Row 3: Purl

4) Row 4: Knit 7, *k2tog, yo* until confused, or something goes wrong, or something goes right when you're sure it should be wrong. Hand project to Sue so she can figure out what is wrong. When Sue tells you what is wrong and how to fix it, *knit any series of stitch pattern combinations that you desire, EXCEPT whatever Sue told you to do to fix it. * Repeat between * * to the end of the row.

5) Row 5: Purl

6) Repeat row 2.

7) Repeat row 3.

8) Rip entire project and swear a lot.

9) Ask three friends for suggestions on another garment that could be made from the yarn.

10) Argue with every piece of solicited input.

11) Decide to give Montego Drama on the High (Neuro) Seas another shot.

12) Cast on an odd number of stitches, depending on your width preferences.

13) If you are really confused about exactly how many stitches you should cast on, ask your friends how many stitches you should cast on.

14) If you are given three different numbers from your three different friends, argue with each opinion, then come up with a 4th option, all on your own. Cast on that amount of stitches. WARNING: The number of stitches for this cast-on SHOULD NOT match any previous number suggested by friends from this, or previous cast-on solicitations. Not following this step could result in...well...never mind. How much worse can it get, really? But still, it helps to write these things down.

15) Repeat steps 1-14 until you run out of yarn, friends, booze or are deprived of oxygen against your will by a trio of known assailants.

16) Cast off and slap self on your very flat ass, 3 times.**

Random Inapprorpriateness

*I never heard of this Feh thing until I started reading blogs.I assume it means the opposite of Squee. Squee is another expression that is new to me. It makes me think of going pee, then thinking you're all done and wrapping it up, then realizing there is still some pee. So you squeeze it out. That is Squee. To me.

**Sorry to be so long in the wind, but just because I’m busy, doesn’t mean I don’t have things to say. Just no time to say them.

Labels: Bitchmom Screampants, From My Loins, I Can Haz Frends?, I Work Too, Unhealth, Wild aRandoment

Friday night, Cakers' stint as Gardener No. 3 in Alice in Wonderland, came to a rousing conclusion.

She's painting flowers here.



'Lo! The Queen approaches!



I'm guessing that's not a good thing.





When it comes to curtain call, there are no bit parts. ::Notice how she's parked herself right in front of the 5th graders.::



I kind of like the random first-gradery-ness of this shot.



I had meant to post this earlier in the weekend but every time I went to upload the pictures, I had to look at them all again. And again.

She did a great job, and I'm spittin' proud.

But now that we're a couple of days out of the hoopla, I can't stop thinking about how her world has changed so much over the last couple of years. And how I don't feel like I'm so much a part of the bulk of that world, anymore. I know that is supposed to happen. But I can't stop thinking about the kids in the pictures. Kids from all grades whom I don't know, but who know my girl.

And I don't know the play director.
But she'll know Cakers at the ice cream shop this summer. Or grocery store.

I don't know one of the costume moms, but she approached me in the hall, after the play, to say what a great job my daughter did and what a good kid.

I met the make-up mom at the cast party. A woman who touched my sweet baby's face two nights last week, without our having been formally introduced.

It's all a wonderful thing.
A world nestled in a world, kind of thing.

Right now she's just one nestle away.
I can still reach out and grab her.

But how long before I have to claw across a few Nestles of World, just to get a glimpse into those big brown eyes?

eh.

Caker Lace
Well, between all the wailing and renting and verklempting, I have managed to finish a sock.



It's kind of mangle-y. The second one is coming in a little neater, but I am afraid the first one is a little small, as it "Hurts my tooooe!"

For the record, my daughter walks this Earth on a set of designer ore barges. She's 6 years-old and her feet are 1.5 inches shorter than mine and about as wide.

Anyway. Now that I know that size is an issue, I can make the second one a little longer. Then tell her to just get over and buck it up on the first one.

See? I'm not so sappy.

Labels: From My Loins

I have more to catch up than the time to do it, but I'm going to try.

Week in Review
It was a busy one.

Thursday: Parent-teacher conference for Cakers. Initially, I had planned to brag here, about all her high achieving ways. But I changed my mind. You see, the most important things I heard from my daughter's teacher is that she is an apt, attentive student and a sweet, gentle friend to all her classmates.

And cute as bug's butt.
::Okay. I added that part.::



Wednesday: Halloween. Of course. ::See picture above.:: The weather sucked much hollow weenie, but it kind of worked out for the best. After two blocks, The Princess In Question was cold and wet and requested to go home to count candy coupe.

Tuesday: We saw John Cougar John Cougar Mellencamp John Mellencamp That John Guy, in concert.

I was never a huge fan, back in his name-changing heyday. But over the years I have developed a nostalgic taste for his music, and find odd comfort in singing along to the oldies I once rejected. Maybe it's because the songs aren't emotionally tainted by any particular memory. Or maybe I'm just getting old and cliche.

Anyway, aside from a lull in the middle of the concert, where he sang a few songs from an album as yet unreleased, it was a pretty good show.

At one point I said to my husband, "What are all these old people doing here?"
"We are these old people," was his reply. And at another point, soon after that point, That Guy John gave a little speech about the failures of "Our generation" and that it's "pretty much over for us." We booed.

Then he said it's time for the next generation to "Get in the driver's seat," which caused the smattering of youngins'in the crowd to whoop and holler.

Included in that group of youngins'were five college-age kids sitting directly in front of us. By the end of the night one of them was so drunk that he could not stand and eventully toppled over into the laps of the old people sitting in front of him. As we exited our row at the end of the concert, this guy was still clinging to the handrail at the bottom of the stairs, propped from behind by two of his buds. I can't imagine how he got up the stairs without crawling or being carried.

I said to Cabana: "If it's their turn in the driver's seat, someone needs to take the damn keys."

No Knitting and Then Some
Remember this?



It's gone, daddy gone.
To frog balls.

I just didn't like the fabric. Too rough.

In the Meantime
My hair stylist had a baby over the summer and just returned to work a few weeks ago. All summer I had good intentions to whip up a little something for the baby. Of course, I waited until the last minute to execute a plan to knit that cute cat, Kate, from Knitty.

After finishing what I believed to be the cat head,I realized it was not the head, but the cat's ass I had been knitting.

Aside: I hope there is no relationship between my inability to know a cat's ass from otherwise and the ultimate ability to make my way safely through the rest of my life.

I could have kept knitting, but that would've meant settling for a color scheme other than my vision for the final product. So I ripped cat's ass to frog balls, and started over. And then I knit a paw. And ripped. And I knit another paw. That one survived, but the third one didn't. Paw number 4 was a keeper.

Even though I'm back on track, all that knitting and ripping and knitting again, put me way behind schedule for meeting today's deadline of the Reunification Cut-n-Color appointment.

I needed a plan B. And fast.

I found that plan in the Baby Cable Hat.



Ain't it cute? I was very excited to find the pattern through a Ravelry search. It wasn't until I had the pattern printed and needles at the ready that I realized the Baby part of the Baby Cable Hat described the cables, not the head size of the intended consumer.

No worries. I adapted the pattern to fit a smaller head. I may not know a cat's ass from a head in the ground, but I can subtract. Sort of.

The tassel is a bit awkward, but I still like it. I kind of made it up as I went along. ::I swear I saw an easy tassel tutorial somewhere recently, but couldn't find it again. No harm done. Those years I spent in seclusion, making yarn dolls, finally paid off.::

The yarn is Mission Falls Wool. Green.

Oh yeah. Here's a sneak preview of two cat paws. I lurve them so much, I'm kinda hating the thought of stuffing and giving them away.



Releaf Pictures
I have taken a lover: The Tree in my front yard.
I'm obsessed.

I've been out there with my camera every day, for the past week. Once I finish a shoot and come back into the house, I will look out and see a new shadow, or angle or unique flash of color, and back I go. Dinner be damned. ::The neighbors think I'm nuts and I'm pretty sure are taking turns with related documentation.::

So, with all due apologies, I hereby present more leaves from My Tree.







Don't worry, it's almost over. The leaves will be off the trees in a few days.

And then we'll only have about 237 more pictures to go.

P.S. I love my Spartans. No matter what.

Labels: Bag-O-Hair, From My Loins, Knit Done, Knit In Progress, Pho-Ho'

Between working late, co-managing a household, nightly homework monitoring and three days in a row of what feels like a cheese grater being taken to me holy vessel, I’m finding little time or motivation to participate in things like, the rest of my life.

But to get bloggy monkey off my maxi I’m going to do a quick n dirty post.

Spawn Time
Cakers was successfully launched into the 7th year our life together by a swim party at the neigbhorhood health club. ::The very place I met Cabana.:: I tell you, when it comes to managing 15 six and seven year olds, one large cake and a butt load of high expectations, a swim party is the way to go.

I was't able to get many good shots of the party. I used my zoom lens with the "action" setting, but the lighting for distance wasn't great. In the pool area, my lens fogged, which gave all the pictures a humid haze.

Even though it's clumsy and not well orchestrated, I just love this picture.

Maidens of Lemuria

This is Cakers and two of her bestest buds. This picture makes me think of some ancient, mystic place, minus the styrofoam water noodles, of course.

Yesterday fall finally arrived, in a glorious whirl of cool, color and wind.

After dinner I headed out for a walk. At the end the driveway, Cakers approached me on her bike and asked if she could come along.

And what a treat that was, on such a resplendent evening.

She rode almost beside me the entire 2.5 miles, jabbering. About 3 blocks into the jabber walking, she said, “Know what mom? Today in gym class, when I was jogging, I felt like a real woman.”

Good thing I wasn’t eating or drinking, or I may have spewed. After shaking off the immediate image of Bo Derek, slow bouncing down the beach, to Bolero, I asked in an amazingly brave voice, “How so?”

“Because I jogged for two minutes, without stopping. And that's what real woman do. Right?”

Whew. If only the feel of Real Womanhood was so easy.

Equal Time
College Boy is convinced that when he was about 3 years-old, I left him in a Blockbuster Video store and didn't notice until after I had driven away. Over the past year he has brought this incident up several times; in an increasingly accusatory tone.

It isn't true, of course.

Although there was an incident.
Which has been explained to him.
A buttzillion ways to Sunday.

As follows: We were leaving the Blockbuster store and I thought he was right behind me, but he wasn't, and the exit door closed before he got to it. As many of you know, the exit doors at Blockbuster do not open from the outside.

So, as he leaned on the glass door and started to wail, I darted out the second exit door and back in the Entrance. We were physically separated for less than 30 seconds.

But all he remembers is seeing the bottom of my reeboks, running away. And the crying.

So, in honor of his plunge into manhood, I made him a card:



The text on the front read something like: Now that you're all grown, I hope you can forgive me for what I'm about to tell you, about that unfortunate incident so long ago..

Inside: Get over it.

Knitting Time
I haven't been knitting much. When I've been able to prop my eyelids open long enough, I've been plugging away at this burp pad from the Mason-Dixon book.



The yarn is Cotton Ease. These pads are really fun, but not a quick knit for me. It's so purty, I find myself stopping all the time, to look at it.

Ass Time.

Labels: From My Loins, My Daughter Scares Me

Happy Birthdayz to Me Bay Beez.*
**

Yesterday The Cakers turned all of 6 years-old on me.
Today, College Boy turned 21.

My offspring done sprung off.
Excuse me, while I take a minute.

*A pile of favors for Cakers' Saturday BD extravaganza. So let it be written, I'm getting too old for this shit.

**Evidently it's quite difficult to asterisk photos.

Labels: eye candy Friday, From My Loins

Today I decided that a major contributor to my current status of unbloggability is related to unresolved issues regarding our most recent stint at the cottage. A weekend that ended over one week ago.

Simply put, the weekend was amazing.

But over the past week, whenever I sat down to write about it, I could not find the words. It was as though my observations and feelings were in-capturable by language available to me at the time.

So there I sat, staring at the white blank of blogger, pining for more creative climes.

But I do have some pictures of some amazing weekend things. Yes I do. Pictures to which I will now attempt to apply a modicum of language.

::Remember to click 'em. Size does matter.::

Amazing Thing #1: The Pipples





Amazing Thing #2: The Water






Not only did the lake display an array of color and texture throughout the weekend, the water felt different.

Silky.
Golden.
Like a tactile elixir.

I swam a lot and for long.
A rare thing, for me.

Amazing Thing #3: The Sky




Amazing Thing #4: The Sky Meets the Water Meets the Pipples








Okay.
I'm over it.
Really.

Summer who?

I'm So Over Him, Too.
College boy returned to campus today. To an apartment. I was kind of happy to see him go because he'd been kind of a nerve prancer this summer, what with not having a job and all.

And keeping the hours of the vampire.
And eating all the pop-tarts. And peanut butter.
And tapping on my laptop.
And sitting in my knit spot.
And watching my T.V.
Loud. Ly.

Just hours after he was gone, Cakers threw a hairy fit over some ridiculous thing. I've been applying a swift kibosh to these outbursts, so was about to send her to her room, when I noticed that the crying had a different feel than the usual overdramatization.

Her sobbing was that of the truly broken-hearted, with a sorrow that resonated a bit with my own heart, under the crusty veneer. So I scooped her up for an impromptu snuggle, in a dining room chair. I kissed her head and rocked her slow and before she even said the words, my eyes were already welling up in anticipation.

I miss CAY-mer-on!.

It's a little soon for me to miss him outright, but I recognize a definite sense of melancholy over this departure. It's like I'm homesick, but still at home.

Everything's normal, but somehow not the same.

Or maybe I'm just feeling the reeling in the years.

Gainful Unemployment
My work year starts August 28, the first of three full days of professional development. Every year I start off feeling a little nervous about the unknowns. But as this school year approaches, I'm becoming increasingly anxious and distracted and having trouble sleeping.

With good reason.

Between significant changes in supervisory and administrative and speshul ed teaching staff, a bigger caseload and tougher graduation requirements, I fear becoming the impetus for the No-Sosul-Werker-Left-Behind. Or-Maybe-One,If-She's Pretty-Squirrely. legislation.

I had about 16 fucktillion more things to talk about, but I suddenly seemed to have lost my mind.

Wind.
I lost my wind.

Mind, good.

Wind, gone.

Labels: Cottage, From My Loins, Passages, Pho-Ho'

We're back, again, from the cottage. I'm currently working under the pleasurable peaceful house-work-promoting conditions of a Cakers-Free home. This is a time-limited opportunity, therefore, no way should I be spending even a kitten sneeze of a moment of this precious commodity, blogging.

That Being Said...Today's Eye Candy



Egg Candy


Bud buds.

Friend Candy




::Check out the confident stance, whilst donning melon-hued pants with stars and stripes. Girl Balls. McCalls.::


::What are the chances that the Dangle Your Noodle game was invented by a boy?.::

Glad Candy


Mad Candy

::Cakers: Don't take my picture. Me: Okay. ::

My Candy


Happy-Dog-Butt-on-the-Dock Candy



An actual post is may be coming soon, to a blog near you.

p.s. I could hardly upload my google reader or email, while on rural dial up, at the cottage. I hope to catch up soon, on my reading and emailing.

Labels: Cottage, eye candy Friday, From My Loins, Manpie, Pho-Ho'

I'm far past busy.
And outta brain.
And too tired to explain.

I just need to get the Bloggapost Monkey off my back.

And that's where I'm at.
A-ratta-tat-tat.

1. What a Difference a Year Can Make. Or, Where'd My Baby Go?
Here's Cakers at soccer camp last summer. ::Clearly, she has her mother's athletic poise and focus.:: Click it, for full impact.



Here she is at last week's game:




At this level, the game is just supposed to be fun, so they don't keep score. Funny how every kid on the opposing team knew that they were ahead 7 to zip.

2. What a Difference 18 Years Doesn't Make
18 years is how long I've been knitting. Looking at this meatloaf-esque Ariann sleeve, it's like I've turned enemy. Part of the problem is that I can't find my long-enough size 7 needle for the magic loop method, so I'm bastardizing the two-circ method on too shorta cables, and it's not going well.



3. Not Your Mother's Cabana Boy.



There'll be more to follow, regarding the machinations of my marriage to the feeble hearted. At least he's still cute.

4. Eye Cakers Friday.
This was taken last summer, at soccer camp.



See that golden glow around her head? That's the image I hold of her always, when we're apart.

Labels: From My Loins, Knit In Progress, Manpie

Icehole Drivers
Friday's drive to work was the worst I'd experienced all winter. I don't usually take the expressway unless I know it will be safe and dry. Friday I didn't know it wasn't safe and dry until I was already well into my route.

And far from safe and dry it was. It was windy, icy, snowy and blowy. As soon as my AWD treads hit the pavement, I could feel it was going to be a bumpy ride.

Lucky for me, I was immediately able to nestle behind a semi-truck with his flashers on, evidently in fair warning that he was going slow, no matter. I followed him the entire 14 mile stretch to work.

In fact, he got off at the same exit I did. I gave him a nod of appreciation at the stop light, but I'm pretty sure he had no idea who the hell I was. Maybe he thought he was going to get lucky at the next vacant parking lot. Or not. He looked only about 30 years old and sometimes I forget I'm almost 50 and no longer hold much of a hey-there-trucker-you-want-summa-this? kind of allure.

But anyway, I was appreciative of my little tug boat leading me to safe harbor. This is especially true in light of the gazillion asshole drivers that were going too fast to notice the half-dozen or so recent spin-outs, resting in the ditch, or the flashing lights of police and rescue vehicles along the side of the highway. Neither did they seem to recognize that what appeared to be harmless moisture on the road, was in fact a thin glaze of ice. ::Clue: If it's 20 degrees or colder, not counting a windchill, that water on the road is probably ice.::

Friday through Saturday, we were dumped upon with another 10-12 inches, leaving poor Cheddar with not much room to twirl for his morning poo.



I missed the shot I intended, which was him sitting in that snow hole staring forlornly towards his favorite pooping grounds, now a snow pile too far.

Hustle and Flow
All that being said, ain't no blizzard blizzy enough to keep me from one of the biggest yarn events in the history of our little tri-state region. ::And all that being said, ain't no blizzard blizzy enough to keep me from any hyerbolic frenzy. And I don't know exactly to which tri-state area I'm referring, but I've always wanted to use that tri-state term in a hyerbolic, frenzied kind of way, and personally, I'm glad to have it out now out of the way.::

The Threadbears were having a huge sale, with 20-70% off a broad selection of yarns. But they weren't giving away the farm, as I erroneously surmised in an email to Rob, the previous day. Upon my arrival and after a couple big hugs, Rob was quick to assure me, again, that they were not giving away the farm or the yarn or any other damn thing, which I read as a warning to not stuff my pockets with farms or yarns or any other damn thing, without expecting to pay. Duly noted.

It's been over a year since my last trip to Lansing, and I was not disappointed. After breaking up a verbal-turned-physical altercation between Matt and some guy, I had a lovely shop-about, followed by a recap with Rob of my infamous period piece. Said recap included my yelling "I need a tampon that sucks!" to a complete stranger sitting halfway across the room, in earshot of several other strangers.

Rob made me.

::Gosh. I'd been thinking maybe I need to get out more, but now I'm thinking maybe, uh, no.::

Between the inappropriate disclosures and unsolicited therapeutic interventions, I also managed to snag myself some yarn.

REAL yarn. The kind REAL knitters use.
And it went something like this:



Ummm-hmmm. This is not a filiment of your imagination. Marcia got the shit. Lorna's Laces Lion and Lamb.

Ummm-hmmm. That's right. Me and Lorna's Laces. A perfect match. Like doorknobs and a box. Bags and hair. Baby Jesus and butter.

I also grabbed some Berroco Hip-Hop at 70% off.



I've been fussing all day today, trying to get a good read on an intended purpose for the Lion and Lamb stuff. Rob pointed out that this is the yarn for the Clapotis,a pattern that never seemed my cuppa tea. But I'm definitely thinking a lacey spring shawl or drapey, oversized scarf. And I might now be regretting putting back that fourth skein.

I definitely need to not stay away so long this time, guys, and maybe even come up with some new interesting blog posts in the meantime. Heh. Something in a dangling 'gina, perhaps?

Fur the Love of Feet
La is having a contest. All you have to do is post pictures of cute critter feet from your household, and drop her a comment to come and see.

So here are some pictures guaranteed to give you paws.





Work is wicked crazy these days, and will likely remain so from here through mid-May. Or more. Just sayin'. That. What I just said. I did.

Speaking of no sayin' just sayin' go say hi to Marin, a new blogger I found in my site meter. ::And boy, was she happy to see me. Can you imagine being stuck in my site meter? On a Sunday?:: Just make sure you read her slow. If you go too fast, your heart might start racing and you'll find yourself having to take a break and a deep breath, about halfway through. Of course, if you're not double dosing on cough medicine, it might be entirely different for you.

I apologize for the behemoth post. With my current and upcoming employment demands, this was the only way for me get caught up on my sharing.

But now I'm done.

Okay.

And I'm really leaving.

And I really mean it.

This time.

Starting...now.

No, wait.

Okay.

Now.

Labels: From My Loins, Fur, Hustle and Flow, With Grace My Ass