I went online and found a fall jacket and a kick ass winter coat. On sale. And this week? It’s in the 60s.

If I start shopping for winter boots will it be beach weather?!

I have a weakness for the Twitter feed of Rev. Run, as in Run DMC. I generally hate inspirational crap that’s broad and meaningless, the happy blather version of faux psychics or horoscopes giving advice and warnings that fit just about everyone, even random squirrels.

But the Reverend Run said a few days ago: “Happiness is an act of courage.”

Ok, Rev Run, you are right on that one. Being happy is a victory I savor every day. It takes a lot to achieve, sometimes, and the fact that I’m happy, that I love my life, is one of the things I think of first when I literally count my blessings.

Lately one of the things that makes me very content and happy is having a fire in the fireplace, even on a weeknight. Last night Hubby picked up a small bundle of wood (our big order won’t arrive until Sunday) and we had a fire while we had our monthly finance meeting and ate dinner. Just the sound of the fire and seeing it and smelling it relaxed both of us, and it was a much more mellow evening than I had expected.

So Sunday, a big pile of wood will arrive so the fireplace will continue to snap, crackle, and make us happy.

I absolutely loathe the Wake Up With Al show on the Weather channel. I absolutely hate it.

All I want is the weather. Just a forecast so I know while I’m getting dressed what I should wear. Instead I get jovial Roker and two lame co-hosts making ridiculous segments out of nothing (Let’s see where the Weather made the FRONT PAGE of the local PAPER! Let’s interview a celebrity about HAIL!) and barely applicable weather.

I would tolerate the computerized voice during the local forecast 24-7 more than I would the Al Roker self-love extravaganza. Sweet holy crap I hate that freaking show. I want information. I do not want to be entertained. I miss the science and explanations in the morning - like, for example, the high today is going to be 57, but the high will be reached at 10am and then temperatures will plummet so it’s 45 when I leave work and pick up my kids? That’s important crap I need to know. I don’t give a flying clusterfuck what celebrities think about the weather.

Oh, the stupidity. The outright, ridiculous, horrific stupidity. I can’t even get the weather without infotainmentlebrity shite.

Back in my cave I go.

On Sunday, Baba O’Riley and I took a ride over to the garden center to get some fall flowers for the garden. It was a very warm afternoon so I opened my window.

Baba: “Turn on my window, Mommy!”

Me: “Ok. How’s that?”

Baba: “More window, Mommy!”

Me: “Ok, here’s a little more. How’s that? You ok?”

Baba: “It’s all good, Mommy.”

Yeah it’s been a month. Home leave was awesome.

1. Baba: “Draw M!”
Freebird: “Ok.”
Baba: “DRAW W!”
Freebird: “Ok.”
Baba: “DRAW M AGAIN!”
Freebird: “I can’t deal with this.”

2. Freebird, Baba and I went to a free concert in NYC this past weekend. Not only did Freebird rock out but he came down to the dance floor area in front of the stage and air-guitared for over an hour. He was SO into it. I guess it’s music lesson time. 

1. I’m high as a fucking kite. One percocet every four hours - I make no sense whatsoever. It’s taken me 15 minutes to write this sentence.

2. From intubation for 4+ hours, I have scratchy voice, and I can’t cough or laugh without screaming from pain due to a few miles of abdominal stitching. I’ve missed sexy by a long shot and have landed square in ass banshee territory.

3. I can sit, and I can stand for a bit of time, and I can sit down, but standing up from a seated position makes me shriek.

4. I have antibiotics, pain killers, anti-nausea drugs, and stool softener, and I have to drink lots of water and eat lots of fiber. I predict that even with all that, I won’t poop until October. 2010.

5. Drains suck. But they’re draining. Which means I have to empty them. They’re big plastic bulbs that hang off my bandage in the front like giant see-through testicles. I’m sort of enjoying that part.

Is it wrong that I’m looking forward to anaesthesia? Yes?

Too bad.