Sometime in the depths of the night (that would have been mid-afternoon for you folks Down Under), I hit my ten-thousandth page load. I'm trying not to get all weepy and emotional like Sally Fields at the Oscars (what is it with me and the Oscars this week?), but I really do appreciate it.
Half of me is all cocky, like "Oh yeah, all these people hit my blog and clicked on everything." and the other half is "DEAR GOD, PEOPLE OUT THERE ARE ACTUALLY READING THIS STUFF." (Surreal moment on the phone with Best Friend yesterday - she started talking about something going on in my life, I wondered how she knew, and realized, she's been reading my blog.)
But anyway, thank you for reading. It's humbling to have people spend their time reading what I've got to say.
And in other news, 'cause it's always a circus (zoo?) around here - I just got a call from the husbeast. He hasn't been to work yet. (Usually he's there by six AM, 'cause the Navy is crazy like that. Bad guys never attack in the dark.) He's been sitting on Dorchester Road, waiting for the cops. Apparently someone pulled out in front of him and he hit them. No one was hurt, and he was driving his beloved 1991 Suburban (read: Sherman tank, only bigger, and blue), so he's got a tiny dent in the fender and one turn signal is busted. The other car is trashed. (This Suburban is so huge, as we ride down the road I yell for a stewardess to bring me a drink and a magazine - something fun I got from Uncle Fred.)
Never a dull moment at my house.