Desert Sand Mica

Whatever, just crash it Bob...


I have spent the entire evening on the couch doing absolutely nothing. Dozing, coughing, sneezing. That's been the highlights.

The trip to Fairplay for the Emma transfer (a four hour trip, twice a week) was grueling. Neither one of us thought we would make it. Mark drove there and I drove back, both of us groaning and complaining the whole way about how shitty we felt. I did manage to take some beautiful pictures of the leaves changing in the mountains. The Rockies are so pretty this time of year. Emma was very happy to see mommy and tell her all about her tooth pulling experience.

Watched a string of bad tv - Cheaters, police videos, and world's most shocking something or other. Ate nothing of substance but instead grazed on popsicles, m&m's, diet coke and ice water.

I'm so excited about Newton over there on the tag board coming here from Spyderco-land. I was just thinking tonight about how distant I'd become from all my knife buddies online. I havent been to my favorite blade haunts in some time, and I miss some of them. After going to Atlanta in June to meet so many of them, you'd think I'd make a better effort to keep in touch. Time to mend some fences and get back on track with them. And no, I haven't written the magazine article yet. I suck.

This week already has too many plans. Going back to Mark's condo, going to apply for a couple of jobs, Amanda's 21st birthday, Kt dentist, Kt driving test (ack, she's not ready!) etc. etc. I'd like to see my mom soon, and call my dad too. Bleh.

Tomorrow we are going book buying. The books we picked up last week at Sally Army have already paid for themselves. That's good news. We have to pour on the effort to things that are keeping us afloat.

It's late, I'm sick. Headed to Nyquil-ville.


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