hmm, pie

I could do with some pie. But that would require going out, and seeing as I'm saddled with boy + cramps of doom (I never get cramps, wtf is this about, body?) I remain pieless. (Well, I suppose I could BAKE a pie ... but I am cursed with warm hands, and storebought pastry would require going out.) My grandmother used to put her hands in a bowl of freezing cold ice water during the pie making process ... but ... actually, in retrospect, I think I'm pie-plateless, too, so no pie for me.

At least I have good music and books to read and painkillers. I'm not too bad off. And another bag full of books to take to Powells', which will spin them into gold turn them into new books.

Spousal unit is off at blindy indoctrination camp tour of guide dog school, and should be home this evening. (Yes, he may be getting a dog. I think Hell dipped below zero the past few nights. The funny thing is that I'm almost more anti-dog than he is, mostly because of the plethora of lousy guide dog schools that don't require ANY kind of cane training before they give you your dog. And I'm a cat person, but Guide Cats would be a very bad idea. "Foward, Garfield." *Garfield stares at you in stony silence, wraps his tail around all four paws and does not move.*)

This is an awesome album, and it is Seaners-Approved.

it's not really that loud, it's just quiet out

Dear neighbors,

If you're going to play your music at this hour, please play music that I'll actually enjoy. Most fifties rock, bluegrass and folk do not fall into these categories, and Celtic and/or New Age should only be used sparingly and with caution.

Love,
Moi

Dear son,

Please do not wake up before 6 AM. Baby Jonathan can sleep through the night, and you're many times his age.

Love,
Mom

Dear Apple,

You make a fine little router. And it's so cute I want to hug it and squeeze it and call it George.
I still don't trust your mice.

Love,
Me