Wow. I'm still alive.

The weather has finally, FINALLY leveled off, and I woke up yesterday morning as if from a trance, wondering what in hell had happened. This migraine thing is the worst I've had in at least two decades, and one of those situations where you don't realize how bad it was, until it's over and you feel better and you're left sitting on the couch going "Wow, that sucked." (For those of you who've been waiting for e-mails or packages or information, my apologies, and now that my brain is functioning, I hope to get to them soon. Real soon. Like today or tomorrow. )

Just in time for Thanksgiving. Thanks to migraines and migraine drugs, I had somehow lost an ENTIRE WEEK and thought Thanksgiving was NEXT week, until yesterday when my mother-in-law called to tell me they'd finalized their plans, and they'd be here Wednesday. I hung up the phone and looked at the husbeast and said "THIS WEDNESDAY???" and ran for the calendar.

Yup. This Wednesday.

And the house looks like I've spent six weeks laying on the couch, drugged out on migraine medication, cursing the sunlight. (Go figure.) I've got two days to clean the house, including my office, which doubles as the guest room. If I shelve all the books thrown around the house, the place will look cleaner, right off. Hopefully that and some dusting will get the job done.

Oh, and did I mention the husbeast is in shift work and probably won't be home for any useful amount of time until Thursday, at which time he'll eat turkey, sleep, and go back to work?


Anyway. Photos. On her birthday, the Goober got this:


The world's cutest scooter. The husbeast spent the weekend trying to teach the Goober how to use it; she still doesn't get the idea of putting one foot on and pushing with the other (though we had a breakthrough on that late last night). Mostly she wants to stand on the scooter while Dadad pushes her around.

I don't think I need to add it's really cute.


The other night I washed my hair and let it dry normally, instead of my usual routine (which means braiding it or putting it up in a knot, wet, so it dries fairly straight). It wound up poofed all over the place, and since all of you are always commenting on the Goober's hair, I had the husbeast take a photo.

You can see curls along the edge, and how it separates into something similar to dread-locks; at the end the 'dreads' are curly, too. Two feet long, and the hair still curls. THIS is where the Goober gets the curls from. Even our cowlicks are in the same place. (The Goober's color comes from the husbeast and his mum's side of the family, far as we know.) There's also a good shot of my white streak. That IS white, not a reflection of the camera flash. When describing my hair I often mention the Bride of Frankenstein, but the husbeast is more concise and just calls them 'skunk streaks'. There's one on each side, at the temple. As I get older, they keep getting wider, and more and more silver shows up scattered through the rest of my hair.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go shelve books. For the rest of my life.

Shoulda been a librarian and gotten paid for it.