Scoots and Bleeds

I left work early to give blood. They weren't equipped for the apheresis this time, and I was little disappointed after preparing myself for it all day. Seems like the Red Cross would push for a centralized donation archive so regular donors like me wouldn't have to identify themselves and provide medical history every time. It's not likely that I've spent three months in England in the 56 days since since my last donation. I have to explain my middle-school heart murmur each time. I assume they have me in their system more than a dozen times. Also, my files don't transfer from South Carolina even though the Red Cross uses SS numbers for each pint. And, in closing, Red Cross shirt designs stink.

Your Sis made stir-fry on the grill again, and it was delish again. She is aggressively shopping for a scooter. She looked at local Vespas and a brand called Aprilia. She even has the manual to prepare for a motorcycle license. She's committed to this. She rarely drives out of town nowadays, but I worry about how we could get a scooter to the nearest dealership if it goes kaput. It won't fit in the back of our Matrix.

Picture of the Day
On the march!