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Okay. You may not see much here for a while; I’m going to be working on putting together a website of my dang-fangled programming own. So any advice is welcome…. It won’t be pretty. I think I can promise that much. But at least it won’t be on Blogger.

No news is good news, right? Sorry. I haven’t been gone, just…well. You know. I’m finally feeling better about Jonathan. I still tear up whenever I let my self think about him, but I’m balancing out the feeling that the world has changed into something I don’t like anymore. I don’t sit and dwell. I

Dag Nabbit. First, it rained and fogged all weekend. I had been planning to take Ray to the Balloon Classic, which runs for three days over Labor Day weekend in the Springs. Nope. For the first time in twenty-seven years, no balloons made it up. Second, Dale was going to come out next weekend before

Test. Via ***Dave. From an online test by Nestle’s of all people: Your fantasy man is a Rebel with a Cause You just can’t help it. Bad boys just get your heart pounding. Maybe it’s because you know deep down your fantasy man isn’t trying to be bad, he’s just trying to express himself in

Love. Whenever I’ve been getting frustrated at the world lately, just dwelling on it and digging in to it, I’ve been thinking, “Is this more important than Lee? Is it more important than Ray?” Obviously not.

Balloons. Wow. This week has flown by. This morning, going out to do laundry while Lee slept, Ray and I saw balloons. Of course we had to follow them. We managed to get right underneath them, pull over, and wave at them. I waved. Ray said, “Badoo! Badoo!” over and over. We picked the little

How it went. We’re back from the memorial, and my parents have gone home. — Every summer, my family would go out to the Black Hills to visit two sets of cousins, one set from each side of the family. They both had kids around our ages. The Knippling side was my Uncle Howard and

The plan. Last week, my cousin Jonathan died. I’ll talk about it later; I can’t do it now. The itinerary: Monday: leave after Lee gets back from work, drive to Rapid City, SD. Tuesday: arrive early in the morning, sleep. Memorial gathering. Wednesday: leave at some point, return to Colo. Spgs. My folks will either

Those D— Friesian Horses! cheval-de-frise (shuh-VAL duh FREEZ) noun plural chevaux-de-frise (shuh-VOH duh FREEZ) 1. An obstacle, typically made of wood, covered with barbed wire or spikes, used to block the advancing enemy. 2. A line of nails, spikes, or broken glass set on top of a wall or railing to deter intruders. [From French,

Assess. We finished up the first section of the game last night. Many thanks to Doyce, Jackie, and especially Justin, who’s been watching Ray and Kitten (the other little girl)–we couldn’t have done it without him, and them. And thanks also to a great group of players. I don’t think I’ve ever rolled my eyes