After my triumphant return to the ether this weekend, Monday, whenever it was, I disappeared once more, felled by a nasty nasty chest cold. All I've had strength to do is get through the work day, drive home, lie on the couch, go to bed, and get up in the morning. And go through two bags of Ricola. I love Ricola. They are my miracle drug, even if they don't work, shut up!

Jeff put a doggie door in the back door today. I like it. It's huge, so Orbison doesn't have to bend his arthritic old knees or duck his shaggy old head very far. The cats are suspicious, being cats.

Well, that was my thrilling news. Just watched Amazing Race (die Kelly, die Jon, die die die) and ate some basghetti and now I'm taking my Chloraseptic and Ricola and Comtrex to bed with me. And a book, maybe. Or two.

OH! But I still haven't written down my plans for September vacation. It's going to be magnificent. It'll have to wait, though, the writing of it.