It's election season in Durham, and a local lawyer has added his name to the rolls for judge. Check out what his name is. It actually says this on his campaign signs, and every time I pass one, I think, "Sir, you are completely out of your gourd... and yet somehow I could see myself voting for you eight or ten times."
We went to Hilton Head this weekend, where for once we didn't have a project to complete (such as my grandmother's birthday party, repainting the entire house, or perhaps building a full-size replica of Mount Rushmore in their yard) and what happens? I spend the entire weekend hacking and hocking and coughing my eyes out of my head with what has turned out to be pneumonia. WHO GETS PNEUMONIA IN APRIL? I mean, seriously. WTF already.
Norah can now "cruise," a pediatrician's term for "stagger around like a tiny wino holding onto the furniture and singing Irish drinking songs." I saw her do this and my heart stopped, because this means that everything in our house from my waist down will have to be elevated and/or nailed down, including my pants, because she definitely pantsed me this afternoon. I have been pantsed. By someone to whom I gave life! The injustice here is striking.
I'm going to bed, where my z-pack will most definitely start working and I'll pass out breathing steadily, with no rales and no racket in my lungs. And I love you all, but from way over here, so you don't get my cooties.
Posted in: on 4/10/2006 at at 7:49 PM