Okay, I had in mind this very entertaining commentary to post, but things sometimes change and it doesn't happen that way. Today, my head is swimming (honestly, it's possible I have some sort of mental illness - or well, maybe I'm just a freak.)

When I was 20, I met this really groovy chick named Jessica. We worked together at Bruegger's Bagels and then spent many years drinking too much wine, smoking too many cigarettes, and dancing like fools to Trailhead. She was right there by me when all kinds of nasty things went on with my life and she never faultered. Now, she's the one with craziness. You see, Jessica now lives in New Orleans. She is the head pastry chef at Emeril's. As of last evening, New Orleans looked to have faired Katrina pretty well - but late last night, the levy at Lake Pontchartrain gave way. The French Quarter, which seemed to escape the worst, is now filling with water from the lake. There is damage to be seen a full mile inland. My husband, forever the pessimist, comments that you know, these people CHOOSE to live in a town that is 12 feet below sea level. Yeah, he's got a point. But, it's a little harder to be so harsh when it's my friend. And, really, the girl can make some pastries. We're talking about a devestating loss. Let's everyone keep Jessica in our thoughts today as well as her thousands and thousands of brothers and sisters in need in Louisianna, Mississippi, and Alabama. Let's hope they got out, and can soon come back to rebuild.

I have one living grandfather. I never met my maternal grandfather, he passed away a few weeks before I was to meet him for the first time. So, I have one grandfather. He's 80 years old and lives in my state, but I very rarely see him. Honestly, I may have seen him for about a total of 3 or 4 hours in the last 7 - 10 years. He's got some interesting stories, but it's hard to hear him talk because it seems to just ramble about. He drove a truck for Swift and Co. during the 50's and then worked on trucks for years until he retired, sometime in the late 80's or maybe early 90's. Because of him, I know that the best mashed potatoes and gravy come from truck stops and you can almost always find a nice piece of pie for dessert. Regardless, Grandpa is an interesting character. He's not doing well. He had surgery for an aneurism a few weeks ago. As a result of the surgery, he developed fluid around his lungs. Upon scanning for the fluid, the doctors discovered that not only does he have fluid on his lungs, he has several spots on his lungs as well, supposedly from asbestos. He's due to have more surgery soon. To top it all off, his partner of 13 years or so has been diagnosed with lung, liver, pancreatic, and colon cancer. She has weeks to live - and he doesn't know.

This is heavy stuff. Makes me wonder, frankly, if I would want to know if I had just weeks to live. If I knew, would I tell anyone? What would I do? I'm going to think about this and then will post my findings.

If you're a devoted reader and have read from the beginning, you might know that a couple that is very close to me separated. I was truely conflicted by this. This past weekend, they announced that they are, in fact, REUNITING. Yep. Moving back in together. Happy Happy Happy. Or, is it? I mean, what has really changed? From what I understand, this is their MO. They do this - fight, talk about divorce, separate, throw everyone through total hell, and then suddenly get back together as though everything is groovy. This cycle repeats every few years and has been going on since the early 1970's. Talk about a roller coaster. We'll see how it goes.

I have a very dear friend (who's cool with letting folks know that I was also her doula,) who is pretty well known in the world of abstract art. If you googled her, you'd see that she's everywhere. This past weekend, I visited her and her family and she presented me with a framed piece of her artwork. I was stunned. It's beautiful - and I am blessed to be surrounded by such amazing people. She ordered a felted bag from me - it will be the largest one I've ever made. I'm pleased to do it for her - I'll post a picture when it's done.

DuCK has been hiding behind the recliner in the play room. WTF?

Last night, B was working on some mats for some artwork he's been commissioned to frame. I watched him deliberate for ages about just which mat color and texture would look best, which molding would make the best frame, take and retake measurements for the little title cut out. Every few minutes he would come and ask for my opinion, and together, we found the right combination. But it's him, you see, who does the hard stuff. The art and beauty comes from his mind and fingers. It occurred to me that we both have an art, a craft, that is based in creativity and beauty and creation. This is so cool. And folks like what we do and are willing to pay for it. It's certainly not enough to support ourselves, but it's nice to have a creative outlet that brings people pleasure and often brings me sushi.

I have three baskets of clean laundry in the laundry room. They've been there for days and days and days. I have no, let me repeat, NO motivation to do anything with them. I detest folding and putting away. Any volunteers?

My brother is going back over to the sandbox that George W seems determined to crowd. To be honest, we don't know exactly where he's going. He's not allowed to tell us. Not even when he gets back. But he'll be gone for a few months. WARNING while he's gone, I'm going to, more than likely, verbally eviscerate W on a daily basis. I'll try to remember to do it in a different font or something so you can skip it, if you'd like.

I need more coffee.