Also as I type, I assume we now have a new niece. Your Parents were scheduled to drive down to be there for the cesarean, but I've heard nothing about how it went. This would be a good time for Your Mom to calm the waters over Thanksgiving. Your Sis called Your Brother this weekend and left a message. I don't think she's heard back yet, but he might be a scoash busy.
I memorized the second page of my closing monologue and almost completed the third before my mind closed up shop for the night. I had reached my cognition quota for the day. And then I ate pie.
I won my second week of fantasy football, making me 2-4 for the season.
Picture-Accompanied Spontaneous Poetry of the Day
Jupiter beckons.
There are no plays on Jupiter.
There are no telemarketers there.
No alarms and potholes and tags.
It's a giant ball of cold and cloud.
And probably smells like a goat.
A goat 20 times the size of the earth.
Who wouldn't want to gaze upon that?
If such a thing existed, you'd find it only there.
In the dark and quiet and still.
Jupiter beckons.

2 comments:
hey you. i called penn last night, and was told that things went well and that Bailey weighed 7 lbs. 11 ounces.
Good. Good good good.
Thanks for the heads up.
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