I earned my grades.
In British Lit: Super-solid A
In Critical Lit: Sickeningly solid A
In Math 950: Way-to-learn-pre-algebra-at-25 A
In Nutrition: Full on F.
But I earned each one! Not proud of the last, but super pleased with the first three. No lectures, please. I'd like to ignore the shame and move on.
Liam had his surgery (minor in medical terms), and is healing quite well. He still walks and screams and does everything normal, except that his natural arch making skills are a little . . . painful.
River is crawling everywhere. One second she's next to me and the next she's eating fuzz off the floor in the bathroom, laughing like she's just gotten away with something.
Caleb has completed the Swamp Cooler maintenance for this spring season (yay! no more dangerous excursions on the roof!) and continues his work at the Post Office.
I will be in a all-talkie-no-sing-y play this summer, performing in July. It's Twelve Angry Men, but with women, so we call it Twelve Angry Jurors. I'm #10, who is described as a "Loudmouth racist". I don a New York accent (I guess) and rant and rave. It feels super great to yell and emote without consequence. In fact, I get complimented for my behavior. That's why I love theater.
Caleb and I are looking for a house. Three bedroom, fenced yard, under 130, good neighborhood. The time has come when we no longer want to listen to people through our walls, and take care of someone else's messes. Cleaning up someone elses's old urine really helped us make this decision. Eww.
So, there it is. A humorless, un-punny update on my little fan-damily.