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Deep thought. Not that this is saying much, but I’m more practical than I used to be. I’m not sucked into things so much. I don’t miss it. Except for those few times I’m reminded of mystical things, deeper meanings, symbols. Magic. I don’t feel magic the way I used to. I’m not as spiritual.

A creature of habit. Before I forget, here are some of the things Ray’s doing: Banging two rocks together. Or anything. Making a race for the plug-ins, mouse/keyboard cords, and the kitty’s tail. And getting closer every day. Picking up things and shaking the hell out of them. If she likes them. Putting everything in

Cuteness. Lee saw this. I didn’t. He has Ray to himself in the mornings when I’m at work. He has a bottle of pumped milk that he adds some iron-fortified cereal to (no spinach for our princess). She can guzzle the stuff on her own now. Well, he heats the milk, adds the cereal, shakes

More Mrs. Kurtz: On Hold, ep. 3 But the voice of Jim T. Biggins continued: At first, it was just the cleaning staff. We never could keep cleaning staff. A couple of night-watchmen. Support personnel. Forms processors, accountants, mailroom staff, file runners. Finally, even the phone staff– YOUR CALL IS VERY VALUABLE TO US. PLEASE

In the mail again, just can’t wait to get in the mail again… “Customer Service” is in the mail again, this time to Hoot Island. “As usual, everything was wrong when I arrived at work. Bob hadn’t opened the case on that system I told you about on Thursday, let alone replaced the video card.

Haircut update. Lee said it looked perky. Apparently that means he likes it. Heh.

Million. I figures out how to cut a couple hundred words out of “One Cool Million.” I thought. Turns out, what with I’ve learned since I sent the thing out the first time (December 2001), I was able to cut…uh, 2500 words. Rereading it, I finally admitted to myself that it wasn’t as baaaad as

Words, to paraphrase, almost mean stuff. Ray can say, “Nie nie nie nie nie” and “dada” and “mama” and “mymymy” and all sorts of squealing zrrbts. She doesn’t mean anything by it, though. Yet. And she’ll look up if you say her name a couple of times. Whereas she’ll ignore you if you say “bebe.”

Hack job. Got a haircut. It was a walk-in appointment at Costcutters at the mall. I don’t know, the last time I established a relationship with a hairdresser it was with my then-aunt, who, as it turns out, isn’t mentally stable enough to stay on Prozac and threatens to kill herself every once in a

Raynotes. Her face is changing. Every day it seems she’s a little more aware of her surroundings. She likes to hang out with a three-year old Lantina kid next door that doesn’t speak a word of English. And she figured out how to pull down the zipper of my sweater…you don’t know how hard that