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Archive for the ‘Home Life’ Category

I hate to come back and say, well, I’m returning to blogging, because I might not. And for all I know, no one particularly cares. And yet, there it is. I’m here today. I’m alive.  I was a bit shocked to see that I haven’t posted since February 2013, although when I think about it logically, it makes perfect sense. I’ve been working crazy insane hours and trying to write a book, losing weight (over 50 pounds lost in 2013), and had surgery a couple of weeks ago.

But I really need the emotional release I always get when I blog, so maybe I can get back into the routine.

So here’s where I am today, December 4th, 2013.

I turn 50 on Sunday.  I personally think it’s cool, and kinda funny, because I so don’t feel 50. Frankly, after the weight loss I’ve achieved this year, I feel younger than ever. 50 going on 14? 13? I’m still a young adolescent boy at heart, and probably always will be.

I had some complications with my lap band crop up this summer, including a ruptured hiatal hernia and a massive food blockage that had me so messed up I was literally eating about 10 bites of food a day.  That’s actually NOT why I lost weight. My weight loss stalled out right then, as I presume my body was trying to hang on to what it had until I was able to start eating.  So two weeks ago, after jumping through all the insurance hoops, I had revision surgery. They removed the lap band, fixed the adhesions, repaired the hernia, did a liver biopsy to test for fatty liver disease, and converted me to a gastric sleeve.  I’m 2 weeks post surgery, and am down 12 pounds in the past 3 weeks. No complaints there. Well, about the weight loss part, anyway. I’m extremely unhappy due to the fact that I can’t eat anything solid for another week.  The first week post-surgery I subsisted on clear liquids, mainly Isopure protein drinks (most of which tasted quite unpleasant) and low sodium broths, with plenty of zero calorie Vitamin Water or Sobe water. Starting the day after Thanksgiving, I got to go to full liquids. This means I can have Atkins shakes (thanks be to goodness), protein powder shakes blended with skim milk (blech), and lowfat cream soups with all the solid bits strained out.  I find that if I get the lowfat Cheddar cheese soup and blend it with skim milk and some chicken broth, it’s pretty tasty.  I don’t have a huge sweet tooth, so it’s a fantastic change from all the sweet shakes and drinks.

I go back to work on Monday, December 9th, but will not be working overtime until I’m back on a full solids diet. That means it’ll probably be January before the OT kicks in again. I’m hopeful that we’ll actually get fully staffed (a promise that’s been being made for months, but has yet to materialize) and I won’t have to keep working such long hours.

I’m hard at work on The Great American Novel (ha!), and have made remarkable progress. I was hopeful I’d get a lot done while I was on leave, but I’ve actually spent most of my time sleeping, internetting (is that a word? it is now!), watching movies and Dr. Oz (I do like Dr. Oz), and making sure I get at least half an hour of activity in every day.

So, weight loss. How’d I do it? Weight Watchers. I know, I know. I keep coming back to it. But you know what? It freakin’ works, if you do it! One of the benefits Ally provides is a contracted lower rate for the monthly pass, and then on top of that, they pay half of it. So I’ve been paying $17 a month instead of more than $40. We’ve also been fortunate enough to have meetings at work as well, although we may have lost that as of the end of November, as we were having trouble getting enough regularly attending members to keep it active. If we have lost our at work meetings, then I will continue to go to meetings at the center near my house. I vastly prefer the work meetings–no time out of my schedule, no travel, and a small group of people that I know well and like well–but the meetings are one of the most important reasons Weight Watchers works, in my opinion.

People think–and I was one of them, pre lap band–that bariatric surgery is a magic key. I mean, I knew it wasn’t, but definitely thought it made it easier than it did.  But what I learned is that it’s still a head game. I had to learn how to manage my feelings and emotions instead of stuffing them, something I still struggle with. Joe thinks I’m the wicked witch of the west 90% of the time, and I am sorry about that.  So bariatric surgery was a tool, and a very helpful one. Weight Watchers is a tool, and a very helpful one.  Exercise is a tool, and a very helpful one. Writing/journaling/talking/all the other things I do to cope are tools.  And they all work together.  I’m very pleased to report that as of this morning, I weighed 214.0 pounds in my birthday suit. I weighed 272 when I started Weight Watchers in the spring. So almost 60 pounds, but as I say, the last 12 pounds are due directly to the surgery and the liquid diet I’ve had to follow as part of the healing process. The weight loss will slow down once I start eating again, but it’s all good.

I am no longer wearing plus size clothing. Every now and then I start to automatically veer to that section in the stores when I go shopping, but as I start rifling through the racks, it quickly becomes obvious that everything’s too big.  I live in leggings (size XL) and Old Navy jeans (tried on the size 14 boyfriend skinnies I got pre-surgery, and they freaking fit!). My shirts are now ladies XL, and I’ve even been able to get into an occasional oversized L. I went to Stein Mart this morning to use my birthday coupon (20% off one item), and tried on 6 tops. Three looked incredible, one looked so-so, and two looked awful. I bought two of the three incredible ones, and the kind cashier gave me 25% off one in addition to my birthday coupon off the other one. But they were all ladies XL, and they all fit. One of the ones I bought looked so good it blew me away.  I cannot tell you how much more self confidence I have, and how much more I enjoy shopping for clothes.

Faith, 6 days post-op. I actually look better than this photo suggests--the camera cut me off at the fattest part of my belly. Typical. lol

Faith, 6 days post-op. I actually look better than this photo suggests–the camera cut me off at the fattest part of my belly. Typical. lol

Post-op instructions include walking at least half an hour a day, building up to an hour a day. Six weeks post surgery, I will be able to work up to more strenuous activity. I’ve decided to do the Couch-to-5K program. I bought the app and loaded it onto my iPhone.  Definitely looking forward to it. I’m also going to get a bike helmet and start riding my totes awesome bike around.  I’ve been pinning some at-home routines to help with some muscle building.

I don’t think we had adopted Elvis when I last posted. Elvis is a puggle (pug-beagle mix, we think) with an overbite that gives him a very pronounced sneer, hence the name. He is a big old sweetie pie, and he is definitely a boobies man.  I cracked a rib a few months ago, and woke up one morning to find him sound asleep across my body, his head resting blissfully on my right breast over the cracked rib. Little putz. Emmylou is well and healthy and happy, and she and Elvis get along beautifully.

Elvis Presley Stencel-butt

Elvis Presley Stencel-butt and Emmylou Wriggle-butt

And that’s probably a pretty thorough update from me. Hope you’re all well and happy!

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So NaBloPoMo 2011 is over, and I only missed 1 day. That’s the good news.

The bad news is, many days I was only blogging just to blog. I didn’t really have anything to say. So that’s not very illuminating or enlightening.

I’ll probably do it again next year, but until next November, I plan to blog only when I have something to say. Like today.

I somehow set up my cell phone so that if someone responds to a Face.book message or post, it rings, the ringtone being Bad Romance. And yesterday I posted a message to the family who are joining us for Christmas dinner, asking whether they wanted turkey or ham or both or something else. And my daughter responded at 2:58 a.m. So Bad Romance started playing at 2:58 a.m. while I said something long the lines of the unabbreviated version of WTF? But it’s not her fault I set my phone that way. I just hope I can figure out how to unset it. 🙂  And then her father posted something before 5, so it woke me up again.  Fortunately, no one else responded between 5 and the time I actually had to get my lazy butt out of bed.

Also, I managed to finish the horrendous ISA that’s occupied all my time at work for the last week and a half. It was like the more I dug into the process, the more I found I had to look at to be sure that we’re testing the process thoroughly and accurately. It’s a new month, and I only have 2 ISA’s and one retest this month, and I completely plan on finishing these by the 15th. It’s do-able. The one I finished yesterday was one I’d never tested before, but the ones I have for December I have tested multiple times and am familiar with the processes.

We have another contractor coming to the house on Saturday to prepare a bid. Once we get all 3 bids in, and figure out which one to accept, my house will start being repaired. Woohoo!!! It’ll be nice to be back at the house. As much as I enjoy living 10-15 minutes from work, I miss my house. I miss Joe having an office where he can keep his laptop set up (right now he uses our dining table as his workspace, which means the dining area looks like crap). I miss having 2 bedrooms (the 3rd being Joe’s office). I miss our back yard and our doggie door, which means Emmylou can run in and out any old time she wants. Okay, I don’t miss my crappy old kitchen, but we’re going to get it fixed so it at least looks presentable, even if it is tiny. And I don’t miss Joe’s having to cut the grass, because I’m allergic to grass, and it makes me sneeze uncontrollably whenever I’m around grass cuttings. But those are little things.

So I hope y’all have a lovely, lovely Thursday. It’s even lovelier because tomorrow is Friday!

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Neither Joe nor I had time to take Emmylou for her morning walk today, so I zipped home during my lunch break. She was, of course, delighted to see not only me but Sarah-bear. We raced around the apartment; Emmylou waggled her butt; I picked up the poopies in the dining area; and we went for a walk.  She didn’t do anything, of course, which means I’ll probably have to clean up a tinkle when I get home after work.

Sarah-bear and I then stopped at 7-11 for a slurpee.  I had achieved the proper mix of Coke and Dr. Pepper, and was just topping it off, when all of a sudden the handle got stuck; my drink sort of exploded; and I was doing the “I don’t want to get Slurpee all over me” dance while Sarah laughed as she got the handle turned the right way to shut off the steady stream of frozen Dr. Pepper that was oozing all over the exploded cup. We grabbed napkins. We threw away the exploded cup and lid. And I very cautiously prepared a replacement Slurpee that did NOT explode. So embarrassing!

Two and a half more hours of looking up accounts, and I get to go home for the day. I think I’m going to be staying away from Slurpees for the rest of the week.

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that my husband thinks it’s my job to do the housework. Any clues? Because I’m baffled.

This has been an ongoing problem throughout our marriage. I go to work, and usually have a bit of a commute. I come home exhausted. (I mentioned the constant fatigue a few days ago, right?) 

What really frustrates me is that I can get a room cleaned up and tidy. Like the living room. And then he comes home from a trip and plops his suitcase in the middle of the floor. He piles up blankets and covers and pillows for the dog. He leaves magazines all over the place, guitar and music equipment all over the place. He puts our printer and his laptop on the dining table. And then says something snide like, “You’re not capable of keeping a clean house.”

He shot that at me last night, and I was so angry I didn’t say anything.

So yeah, tomorrow morning instead of participating in the 24-hour readathon, I will be cleaning our tiny apartment and cussing either under my breath or out loud. And his music and guitar crap are going into the front closet, along with the printer.

It just annoys me to no end. I don’t mind doing housework. I mean, it’s not on my top ten list of favourite things to do, but I don’t mind it. I do mind being expected to do it all, while he feels free to strew his crap from one end of our home to the other.

Grrrrrr.

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I needs it.

So: Amethyst is coming over tonight for dinner. I’m making nachos. Well, technically, I’m making queso blanco dip and buying guacamole and beans and chips, and she can make her own damn nachos. 🙂  Amethyst is one of the coolest people I know, and I feel sorry for anyone who doesn’t know her awesomeness.

I get to go buy a new doggie bed for Miss Emmylou Who. We used to have 2 beds, but one of them went to the cemetery with Scout. We put the other one on the patio so Emmylou can lounge in cushioned comfort while she watches the world go by and barks at the poodle who lives across the way. That means we need a new one for her to lounge on inside. (Every time I try to type lounge, it comes out lunge. Is that the universe telling me I need some exercise?)

I get to go buy new towels. The temporary housing people arranged for someone to rent us housewares, and a whole bunch of lovely white towels were included in the package.  But almost all of them got ruined in Scout’s final hours. 😦  So I have to buy more. (Question: What do they do with all this stuff that they rented to us once we move back home? Because everything was new and I can’t imagine them taking the dishes we’ve eaten off of for however long and renting them to someone else. Guess I’d better ask the temporary housing people.)

I get to do laundry, but that’s no big deal. One of the benefits of having very little clothing means it doesn’t take long to wash it, dry it, and put it away.

I get to visit with the incomparable Izzybella at some point this weekend.

I get to watch this online seminar I signed up for.

I get to read.

I get to walk Emmylou and watch her play with the other dogs.

I get to sleep.

I get to get a pedicure. (I think I’d better shave my legs first. Just a thought.)

I get to watch scary movies and shows about hoarders that Joe doesn’t like so I don’t watch when he’s in town.

I get to write a book review for Quirky Girls. See, I’m participating in the R.I.P. challenge hosted by Stainless Steel Droppings. And I’ve got book reviews of all kinds of scary books going up this month, mostly on the weekends so I don’t butt into the schedules of the other awesome quirky girls. And this book I read just because I love the author so much: Drink, Slay, Love by Sarah Beth Durst. I met her at a World Fantasy Conference in Austin 5 or 6 years ago, and fell in love with her coolness.  So if you want to know what I think about her latest book, please go visit us at Quirky Girls; I’ll have the post up by Saturday morning.

I get to get up and meet my family for breakfast Saturday morning, if I can get my lazy tuchus out of bed by 6:15 so I have time to drive to Fort Worth and get to the restaurant by 7 because my Dad has to work this weekend, which really sucks because it’s supposed to be his weekend off. And I miss seeing my parents every weekend. I had gotten very used to that before the dang fire, and now it’s all messed up. The alarm will be set. But I make no promises.

And maybe I’ll get to have a nice long chat with Jehara. We talked for like 2 1/2 hours last weekend, and it was lovely. She restores my soul. She loves me so much, so unconditionally, and she’s cool to boot.

Ooh! And maybe I’ll go to Half Price Books! I think I have a 15% off my entire purchase coupon in my desk drawer. Hang on—nah, it’s not there. I have no idea where I put it. Maybe it’s in my other purse.

Do you know how weird that sounds? My other purse? Right now I have 2. Well, okay, I have 4, but one of them got the handle chewed off by one of the dogs, and the other one I accidentally spilled Gatorade in when I stuck a bottle in to bring to work and didn’t check to see if the lid was tightly closed (it wasn’t), and now the brown and tan bag is brown and tan and pink. Not a pretty look. But I did salvage a fair few of my bags from the house, and if I can get the smoke smell out of them, then all will be well. Otherwise, I shall be shopping for handbags, because I change handbags like I change my socks.

But the point I’m trying to make is, I’m going to have a relaxing weekend doing whatever the heck I want. The strain of caring for Scout was so overwhelming, and I think both Joe and I felt completely drained. I need some rest. So does my husband. He’s on an assignment for work; however, he basically just has to be in the town this afternoon and Monday morning. Other than that, his time is his own. So I’m hoping he gets some rest as well, goes and sees some music, eats some good food, and comes home feeling a little better about life.  We’ll miss Scout, just as we miss Molly and Stan, but we’re glad he’s no longer suffering. And I cannot deny I’m guiltily glad that I can rest this weekend.

And yeah, I know I said no more dogs, but I told Joe that I would be willing to talk about it when we’re back in the house. Definitely not as long as we’re in the apartment. But if Joe still wants another dog by the time we move back home, then I’ll consider it. The love they give you is so precious. The sorrow and hurt when they’re gone is agonising. Does the joy outweight the sorrow? Yeah. It does. I mean, it broke my heart when Molly died, but Emmylou just jumped right into the family and took up her own place. And I’m glad that we have her, because being completely alone would seem so empty.

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Ten points if you know where the title comes from!****

So for weeks I’ve longingly looked at the autumn decorations in such stores as Ross, TJ Maxx, and Marshalls. I’ve petted some of the prettier ones. (I don’t know why I do that, I just do. My stepmonster has a table that I pet every time I’m at her house, because it’s so beautiful and feels so silky soft.)  And once in a while I’ve even gone so far as to turn the item over and see how much it costs.

But they never make it into my shopping cart. Because our house burned down. And we’re now living in a 1 bedroom apartment. And if I buy any Halloween decorations, my husband will be very put out. Not only about spending the money, but also about where the heck are we going to store them once Halloween is over.

So I mentioned this to Sarah-bear at lunch today, and she promptly offered to loan me some Halloween decorations because she has plenty. What a wonderful solution! Joe won’t be able to complain because I will neither be spending money nor trying to find storage space once the holiday has passed. Sanschu, Sarah-bear!

Ooh–just had a deliciously wicked thought. I’m gonna buy Emmylou a costume! mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha! Izzybella thinks it’s abominable for people to dress dogs, but I think it’s cute. Joe and I got Scout an adorable little jacket last year, because his hair was so short that he got cold very easily, but he ate it off of himself. Emmylou’s going to need a jacket and perhaps a raincoat, but the apartment will be warm enough we won’t need to keep it on her inside. But yeah, she’s gonna get a Halloween costume, and I’m going to put it on her, and take her picture, and post it on this blog, and there’s nothing Izzybella can do about it!!!!!!!

And hey, if anyone feels so moved to loan me Thanksgiving, Christmas, and spring decorations, I will not say thee nay. Because we’ll definitely be in the apartment over Christmas, and if we’re still there when spring rolls back around, I shall not be surprised.

It makes me sad to think of Scout not being here with us, and Molly, for that matter, at Christmas time.  When Molly was an only dog, we got her a big stocking full of doggie toys every year.  On Christmas Eve we’d hang it from the mantel, and she would stare longingly at it. We let her have one toy on Christmas Eve, because when I was a kid my parents always let us open just one gift on Christmas Eve and it was cool, and then on Christmas morning we’d dump all the contents of the stocking onto the floor, and she would be seriously blissed out.  She’d always rip out the guts and puncture the squeaker on one toy, but over the next few days she carefully distributed the toys to her hiding places throughout the house.

When we adopted Scout, he was in a serious chewing phase, and bless his heart, and Molly’s too, for that matter, he destroyed all of her years’ worth of saved up toys in mere days. So when we let them have their stockings on Christmas, he would rapidly destroy all of his toys in succession. Molly got a little more aggressive with her own toys, because she knew if she didn’t, he’d get them.

I think last Christmas we just gave them each a toy at a time, so that we could drag it out a little bit longer.

This year will be our first Christmas both without Scout & Molly, and with Emmylou. She’ll get the stocking this year, and she’ll get a toy on Christmas Eve, and she’ll get the remainder dumped onto the floor on Christmas morning. Knowing her, the toys will not last long.

It’s actually very cute watching her play with the toys. One weekend I was sitting in the living room reading, and surreptitiously watching her. She went to her toy basket, got out a toy, and took it and placed it under the dining table. Then she got another toy out, and put it in the hall leading to the bathroom. Then she took another toy out and played with it. Very cute.

Going home from work yesterday was sad. I miss my little Scout boy so much. Knowing he’s gone makes our home so much more quiet, more empty, even though all he’s had the strength to do lately is sleep.  I’m glad he’s not suffering anymore, though. And Emmylou is resilient–I think she’ll be okay as an only dog.

Because right now I cannot bear to think of adopting another dog. Every moment I had with Stan and Molly and Scout is precious to remember, but the pain of losing them nigh unbearable. Emmylou is still just a puppy, and heaven willing and the creek don’t rise, we’ll have her around for a good long time.

 

 

****Radiskull and the Devil Doll. And if you’ve never seen any of the Radiskull episodes, shame on you! Google and watch. Thank me later.

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One of the benefits of staying up far too late on a Saturday night is that I get to read PostSecret before I go to bed. I also have all my October book reviews and posts for Quirky Girls written and scheduled. And I am sitting here with Wayne’s World on television while I write this post.

Rob Lowe is such a gorgeous man, and he plays the slimiest sleazeball in Wayne’s World. Like if he touched me, I’d have to go take a shower. Ugh.

So here’s what’s been happening lately:

Scout has chronic kidney failure. We’d hoped it was acute, which could mean that he could still have a nice long life. However, he’s not doing well. He won’t eat. I have to force feed either baby food or Ensure several times a day. Every now and then when I present him with a plate, he’ll eat a few bites, maybe a few tablespoons, which gets me all happy until the next time when he just turns away from it. His breath is just horrendous–it’s his body putting out phosphorus, which has something to do with the kidney failure.  We’re giving him all the medicines the vet has prescribed, and he has to have fluids via IV every day. He sleeps a lot, and is very lethargic, but he’s still his sweet lovable self.

Emmylou, on the other hand, has grown like a weed. Where Scout has lost about half of his body weight, Emmylou has doubled. She’s healthy, active, energetic, sweet, lovable, playful–she’s just a joy to be around. And she’s been so sweet with Scout. She knows he doesn’t have the energy and strength to play with her, so she has backed off of the rough-and-tumble play they used to enjoy. But they’ll be curled up, butt to butt, on the sofa or in their dog bed, sleeping soundly together.  She also enjoys sitting out on our patio, so while I’m home during daylight hours, I leave the patio door propped open so she can go in and out as she pleases.

I’ve been ill this week. I didn’t go to work on Wednesday because I had been vomiting Tuesday night and much of the day Wednesday. I went in for two memorable hours on Thursday, leaving after I had to vomit into my trash can at my desk because I didn’t have time to get down the hall to the restroom. Fortunately, I sit in BFE, and no one at all sits anywhere near me, so I didn’t feel bad about leaving my trash can. There honestly wasn’t much time to think about it, frankly. Today’s Saturday–well, Sunday, technically–and I made it through the day without vomiting once! Yay!

I got my hair done today. I’d had the appointment scheduled since the last time I got it done, and was a little nervous, not knowing if I would be able to make it without having to sprint to the restroom. Fortunately, as I say, I made it. I did get a little queasy on the way home, but I chalk that up to not having had solid food since Monday. I ate a little bit, and it definitely made the queasy go away.  And my hair looks fabulous! I love my hairstylist.

I also lost a nice bit of weight this week. Granted, it’s not the ideal way to lose weight, but hey, I’ll take what I can get! 🙂  I’m hopeful that tomorrow morning when I get back on the scale, because I obsessively weigh myself every morning, I’ll have broken into my next little weight goal. I set 10-pound goals for myself, and I’ve been stuck in this 10 pound range for what seems like forever.

My stomach just rumbled quite loudly. Which reminds me of the day I was out walking with Emmylou, and I farted.  It was just a little squeaky fart, but she looked at me with this startled expression on her face. It was very cute.

Speaking of cute, here’s a gratuitous photo of Emmylou looking her cute best:

 

Isn’t she adorable? She was looking at me, and her ears were perked up, and she just sat there until I got my camera phone aimed and captured.

Scout has trouble getting up onto the bed like he used to, so for the first few days that Joe was out of town, I slept on the couch so he could be with me, sleeping in his little Scout bed. But Friday morning I woke up twisted into knots because both dogs had gotten onto the couch with me. I went to the pet store and picked up a set of steps so that he can walk up onto the bed. So last night I slept in the bedroom. He wouldn’t take the steps, which made me sad, because at home he used to run up the steps onto the bed all t he time, but I just picked him up and put him in bed. Emmylou hopped up; I lay down and held the covers up so they could snuggle underneath, and we all went to sleep.  Scout got down and went into the living room at some point, because that’s where he was when I woke up.  Right now he’s sleeping in his bed and Emmylou is sleeping on the couch, and I’m sitting in the armchair listening to the rain.

That’s right, I said rain!!!!!!!  I love autumn, and the first few rains of the season just make my heart happy. It’s like all the dust and heat and ennui of the summer get washed away, and I perk up and have energy again. So yay for the rain!

Amethyst had been planning to come to dinner Friday night, but I was still sick enough that we had to reschedule for next Friday night. I’m hoping that Joe’s in town, so that Amethyst and I can go out to a movie or something after dinner.  I feel guilty if I leave Scout alone for too long right now. It’s already to the point that if I can’t tell that he’s breathing, I shake him frantically until I wake him up. Of course, then I feel guilty for waking him up. Guilt. It’s what I do best.

Kidding. Sort of.

Anyway, I’m going to eat a couple of crackers to tame the monster in my stomach, and try to get some sleep. Tomorrow I’ve got to do all the housework I let slide while I’ve been sick this week.

Alice Cooper is singing “Feed My Frankenstein.” I love Alice Cooper. I love the Ramones. My Ramone’s music–well, all my music, really–is on the hard drive from my last laptop, which was in my bedroom when our house caught fire. It wasn’t in my bedroom the last time I was in there going through things, so I’m desperately hoping that the Mooring Co. took it as part of the things they’re going to restore. So just for future reference, when iTunes asks you if you want to back up your music, um, do it. Otherwise you might find yourself in a situation where you have a new laptop and you never moved it over from your old one, and you don’t have any of your music. (And I do have CD’s, but they are also, presumably, at the Mooring Co getting cleaned and restored. So I’m kinda hosed in the music front.)

I don’t know if it’s a side effect of the disease, or the drugs he’s taking, but Scout gets the most disgustingly stinky gas. It comes in waves. It just waved, and I’m gagging.

How’s this for a chain-of-thought post? At least I haven’t been on Ambien for years, so when I decide to blog at 2:20 a.m., it’s at least spelled correctly and has coherent sentences, even if they’re rambly.

Love to you all! Party on!

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