Gary Gygax died yesterday. I know most people don't know, or care much, who he was. But it's frightening for me to realize just how much of a difference he's made in my life; someone I never even met. (Kevin did, though. Meet him, I mean. At a children's fair, when he was about nine.) Now, admittedly, I never did much Role-playing in high school... my redneck town didn't approve of 'Satan's Toys' like AD&D or science fiction, or free thought, or reading, or being smart... (yes, I'm cynical, but I lived in the freaking buckle of the bible belt and got beaten with it rather frequently, so, you know, I'm bitter.) But when I got to college, it started to be a big thing of mine.

So, we went over to Sara's the other night for a 'cookie baking' party, which was more a 'me baking and everyone else watching TV' sort of thing...

and now my butt hurts. How fucked up is that?

I mean, I understand why... Sara doesn't really have what you'd call 'counter space' so she set up the cookie area on a low coffee-table thing, and had little stools around it.

Well, because of my ankle and my knee problems (and let's face it, I'm FAT) I had to sort of center myself over the stool and then drop onto it in order to sit. And most of the people at the party were not even remotely interested in helping, they were interested in watching Shrek III, so it was just me, and a bit of Sara, so I'm popping up and down every 7 minutes as cookies go into and out of the oven.

I have big HUGE black and blue marks over the lower part of my backside. About the width of my hand.

Ow.

Fucking. Ow.

I saw Spider-Man 3 this weekend, finally.

It was terrible.

Truism:

Do not grab a cat's tail immediately after using one's hands to eat pancakes with honey.

Can I get a do-over for yesterday? Reset? Return to previous save point.

Loading. Please wait....

Argh.

<Insert Standard Rant About Daylight Savings Time>

</end rant>

Well....

If it's not one thing, it's another.

And things were going so well. Kevin's mostly happy with his job (despite not getting paid what he's worth, and while it's usually true that no one does, most people aren't making 20% below the minimum of their pay grade EITHER, so Dendrite can fuck me - and frequently does.) But hey, at least he's happy.

We've finally found out what was causing our nephew, Mike, to try to kill himself, and with a cause, they can actually work on fixing it, and he's doing loads better. That's good.

Kevin and I don't currently owe money to anyone. We're caught up on bills and we're actually able to put a little money aside in savings.

I'm almost done with my dentist appointments. I have 2 in January to get my last two crowns fitted, and then I'll be finally done with that. Huzzah.

And then....