For the 3rd year running, I offer you this warning:

Please, for the love of all things deep fried and layered in chocolate - do not let me hear you say “St. Paddy’s”.

The man was a SAINT, people. You didn’t know him personally and therefore you don’t get the privilege of calling him by some lazy and cheap nickname, any more than you’d call Mother Teresa “Tess”. “Yeah, Tess and I threw a couple back at Moe’s and Joe’s last night. That woman can put away some PBR’s…and you should hear her belch Freebird!”

The fact that Cindy and Karen say they call her “Momma T” is hysterical and completely beside the point.

Really. I have a shrimp fork handy and I’m not afraid to jam you in the nads with it.

kthanxluvyabai.

The Mc and I were on our way back from a day trip to NC when the bad weather thing happened in The ATL, so we missed all the excitement. Amen and hallelujah.

My girl Kim, however; was working as a boom operator at the game and got to see it all. Still haven’t had a chance to talk (not text) to her, but all is well. She was the bigger worry.

Today I took some time to walk around the city and snap a few shots, which are viewable here.

Thanks to everyone who called, emailed, texted or IM’ed - I appreciate you!

Go give a listen to Griffin House.

Personally, I think he’s doing “Thriller” in his wee kitten head.

Maybe it was the banana pancakes I made The Mc this weekend (I rarely cook) and the one I made him in the shape of a heart (inspired by mydailystruggle)

Maybe it was the visit to the doctor today, confirming the sensation I’ve had in the back of my throat for the last few weeks like I’ve been grooming Grayson is actually a condition he called a “furry tongue”…which will, incidentally; not kill me.

Maybe it was that the doctor was from Anchorage, and knew people I knew twenty years ago. That he could relate to my love-hate relationship with “home” in a way no stranger I’ve talked to in twenty years could, and had his own stories of fearing the mental DNA we inherit. Maybe it was connecting to someone. Maybe it was the ghost of home.

Maybe it was coming home from the doc and working from a perch on the porch in the teaser spring temperatures with the sun landing squarely on my sun damaged by pale, pale skin and my solar powered spirit.

Maybe it was the diorama I just made The Mc of our cabin out of a box my sister had given me, stacked to the gills with books, naughty cookies and love.

Maybe it’s getting together with Karen and Cindy and ETK again tomorrow for another evening of emotional and creative liberation.

Maybe it’s the payments I sent my credit card today.

Maybe it’s springing forward and the “extra” hour at the end of the day and the fact that I still have a bit of energy left at 4 o’clock (the new 5 o’clock, donchaknow)

Maybe it was the conversation with A yesterday about spirituality and enlightenment and peace.

Maybe it’s knowing Danielle is doing better and maybe eating a big pile of lasagna I made her with love.

Maybe it was a Saturday night in the kitchen with Gwen - cooking and sipping and gabbing and laughing and sharing the things we struggle with to make them less scary.

Maybe it’s the pictures I just took of Grayson laying on his back on the kitchen floor with his legs sprawled.

Maybe it’s the laundry I just started that will actually be done before I go to bed - and with time to hang it, to boot.

Whatever it is, was, and will be - I’m happy it happened, is, was…and I hope it doesn’t leave me again.

Not yet.

I wish GPS could plug into the brain of a car and remind the driver to USE THEIR TURN SIGNAL.

That is all.