Desert Sand Mica

Whatever, just crash it Bob...


Hmm. SO many hmms.

Gails mom is at death's door, knockin we are the Directorless Friends Foundation. Everything is moving along quiet smoothly, and we have collectively decided that we can function Directorless indefinately. We all come in at 10, and leave by 3... But hey, things are still getting done.

Some good words coming out, that are encouraging. Lots of need everywhere. I guess that's good. But then it makes you think.."ok, and all this giving is for... what again?"

Emma is doing this weird little mouth thing when she pouts. She keeps her lips together and moves her bottom jaw side to side. Last night she pooped her pants again . (She's been potty training since Christmas - *exhale) She had to stop watching her movie, and sit and do nothing for a while. She really didn't seem to give a rat's ass, cept for that pouty mouth thing.

It's cold and snowy and I think I'll leave. Sheesh, it's nearly 3 already.

Why isn't she talking to me? So weird. Not that it's a devastating loss or anything, but the friendship was kinda nice. I must be missing something. He says I'm not, and that it's typical. ok. *shrug*.


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