Welcome to my fish bowl. I'm not sure you really want to peer too closely as you might see the crusty corners in my glass house as well as a fair amount of mirrored illusions, germ-y creatures and felons lurking within.
The weekend has been surreal, like a dream, but not.
When I finish swimming through the murky waters of my toilet, err, fish bowl, and see more clearly, I'll tell you all the slimy details.
But first: John Doe is fine. He just went for a Valentine's Day excursion. Last I heard, he refused tell his tale, but he was indeed still waggin' his tail.
Next: Mom, I'm ok. But boy do I have a doozy of story to tell you which will make you sick with worry. But don't worry. I'm o.k., now. Let's do the cell thing tomorrow so I can horrify you with all the details.
And sadly, my youngest daughter has the flu--poor child. I told her today, as she shivered 'neath 5 piles of blankets, that no matter how much she begged me to go to school tomorrow, there was no way I was gonna allow her to go. No way, no how. She clung to her 'big pillow' and offered me a pitiful grin.
