It's raining buckets here. Rainy and windy and pretty damn warm. I'm not sure I care for it. Today was the third "Biggest Loser" weigh-in. Last week I went up a half a pound. This week I'm down five. That's eight pounds so far. That's a freakin' newborn baby, y'all. A big one, too. Speaking of babies, here's a picture of Sage, ass-up.
As much as I hate telephones, I love the power of text because it enables my sister to send me little glimpses of life back home. And speaking of back home, for any one out there who's interested, the prodigal daughter will be returning for a visit March 5-14. Or something like that. But here's the exciting part. I'm bringing the man with me. Actually, I'm bringing four mens. One John and three boy cats. Plus Bea. In one teeny Honda. We're gonna be doling out the Valiums like they're Skittles. I'll betcha we break our personal CT to NC driving record. Just say some Hail Mary's and chant and burn some white candles for us. Whatever it takes, cause I'm already dreading it like a beating.