Ted is suffiently wiped out from doing things like showering and walking up the stairs that we determined it was the better part of valor not to attend Rent tonight, so I’ve sold our tickets off to someone on the local mailing list I’m on, and instead of going out to the theatre we’ll stay home and watch Buffy. :)

Does anybody else find apples and water to be a particularly unpleasant culinary experience? Glick.

Well, poop. Didn’t make semi-finals in the People’s Pilot. This time I’m not as crushed as I was last time. I was VERY crushed last time. Speaking of which, I need to spend a bit of time fixing my archives so that stuff prior to Dec. 2001 is available. Poor Ted is still sick, and staying home again. He’s in bed still. Poor Ted! I should go have an apple. And some water.

More babby pictures. I’m hungry, so I suppose that means I ought to go eat an apple. Poor Ted is sick and staying home. He has the awful cold I had last month, and he sounds like a bullfrog. It’s kind of impressive.

Momentous (sp?) occasion tonight; I finished filling my first paper journal in years this evening, after making a resolution back in mid-November that I would God Damn It Take A While To Write Every Sunday Evening, No Matter What. Since doing that, I’ve been journalling a couple of times a week, which is different entirely than blogging, even if my blog is just a personal updates thing. It’s very satisfying to have finally filled another journal, all with hand-written entries. And so, good night.