I've made some changes to the sidebar....eliminated dead links and added a short listing of links to some of Dan's work which can be found on The Internet.

That's about the entirety of my weekend, too. Ran off to Charlestown early yesterday morning with Dan. Had a good time, stopped for lunch, came home, went grocery shopping and got sick. Up until the "got sick" part it was a darn good Saturday.

Dan's off at a friend's house watching football, eating chili, drinking beer and discussing "man law" with a bunch of old buddies. I was invited - but due to yesterday's stomach-thingie I figured it probably wasn't an optimum time for me to be hangin' wid da boys and so I stayed home and cleaned house with a vengeance...a phenomenon otherwise known as "woman law." I've added a second litter box in the vain hope that whatever skinny black kit-kat has taken it into his little skinny black kit-kat head to poop on the rug will decide that the new litter box is much more interesting than that enticing spot right there in front of the heating unit. It's either that or we're off to the kitty shrink. The little moron just stares and me and poops....like he's daring me to do something about it. I realize he's probably upset about something and he has no other way to convey his displeasure for slights real or imagined - but geez.....I get upset too, but you don't catch me squatting in the middle of the floor.

I need to write a poem or something. I've not written anything in ages other than rants on Eratosphere and I've got the beginning of that itchy and vaguely dissatisfied craving that always sets in right before I realize I want (need?) to create something metered out of something as disorganized and fleeting as a feeling.
It'll simmer for awhile and I'll get more and more cranky and become more and more withdrawn until even "I" hate who I've become and then, hopefully, I'll find a poem and pull it out of my ass and ta-da!! I'll feel better and I'll once again become a nice ordinary woman who has better things to do than hide under the table.

Until then, don't expect much.