I’m moving over to wordpress and the stuff’s moved (thanks to my webmonkey), but the template isn’t done yet (thanks to my slowness in getting a pic for the banner, but I finally took a pic in the natural light last weekend, so slowly, slowly) and new posts will have to be moved over individually, so YUCK to that.

Scouty, please e-mail me your address again so I can send you that Oxford American with the DVD! I’ve e-mailed you a few times, but I don’t think you’ve gotten them. I managed to delete your address and lose where I wrote it down because that’s what I do.

In the meantime, I am reading, learning to needlepoint, ordering embroidery books from amazon that I shouldn’t be buying but am anyway, running with my nike ipod thing, trying to breathe and avoid another bout of pneumonia (summer cold turning asthmatic and awful), hauling the daughter to basketball camp and talking her into being brave for swimming lessons, getting ready for the new job (so much to do), counting down days at this job (26 actual work days left, I think), planning a couple of days at the beach with the fam between jobs (I have almost a week in between, for the first time in forever), and surviving minor pettiness here at work that’s so silly I can’t help but laugh.

My boss is trying to find a way to get me out before my last day at work on 7/31, but he won’t fire me, I don’t think. It’s a big ole mess of crazy, but I’m so excited about leaving that the pettiness feels like it’s coming from above the water while I swim below–it barely reaches me and it feels removed from me.

waiting at the window at Chik-Fil-A last night, kids in the backseat, immediately after driving through the carwash (which made the girlchild scream with laughter and the boychild simply scream).

“HEY LAYDEEEE! LAYDEEE! OUR CAHHH TAKE A BAPFH!”

The Crabcake screamed this to the woman at the drive thru window over and over again until I rolled down the backseat window and let him scream it to her face. He was very, very excited to tell her that our car took a bath, complete with soap, until he saw the fries. Then he started screaming “FRENCH FIES!” over and over again.

Last night after dinner, we hauled the boy’s plastic riding toy, alternately known as a car or a bicycle, depending on his descriptive mood, into the bathtub and gave it a bapfh, complete with suds and scrubbing.

He’s been talking about it ever since then.

HEEEEY LAYDEEEEEE!