A flamingo chick: the face only a mother could love.

There's no reason for that picture except I keep uploading pictures and then not using them. I had a couple that would have done for yesterday's rant, but didn't have time to mess with them and look them up.

Yesterday we went walking, finally. It started out with me getting a foot cramp first thing, and I dithered about going back to the house or limping it out. Eventually I stuck it out, and we ended up going 3.8 miles (the cramp disappeared in the first half mile) and getting two golfballs, but no softballs at all.

After I've been going stir-crazy for weeks, I surprised myself by being too lazy to leave the house otherwise. Too lazy for Sam, who I was supposed to see today, except Rich wanted to go to Seybold. I called the house to change the day, and the foster provider answered the phone with "Hello, Jan." This is the first time I've known the other side had caller ID, and I stuttered and stammered for awhile.

Crombie had the dog's tail and was chewing on it. We thought this was hilarious, but oddly enough, when Fitch was chewing my hair at 5 this morning, it wasn't as funny. Crombie still kneads and kneads. I have a towel to put between me and her, so I don't feel as much like a pincushion. Fitch, however, is a different case. He plays, pounces with claws out, bites. I keep throwing him (gently, of course!) out of bed, and he comes back and attacks my hair. Eventually he will go to sleep. Then I get the purring buzzsaws, one in each ear.

God give me the strength to enjoy my blessings.

I've been watching Peter Ustinov on the trail of Mark Twain, on the equator. I hate to say this, but I wasn't aware he was still alive!

The Seattle Weekly weighs in on Amazon.com's latest controversy. (Thanks, Anita!)