Argh.

I have no idea why I can't seem to write anymore.

I keep thinking, "I'll do it when I have time to sit down and concentrate."

I know, it's cute how I think I'll be able to do anything of the sort for at least the next 12 years.

I also spend way too much time on Twitter which kinda makes me think I've blogged, and I really haven't.

At any rate, just sitting here waiting for the big ice storm of aught-eight feeling rather smug at having gone to the grocery because we actually needed groceries rather than having gone as a reaction to the forecast.

The kids have exams, but are convinced they're going to be out of school tomorrow, so we're chasing them around the house trying to get them settled in to study.

I could wax on ("wax off" /Karate Kid) about not being ready for Christmas, not feeling the holiday spirit, etc. but that's nothing you can't find on most any blog lately.

I will, however, bitch about being cold right now because, well, I'm cold right now and this is my blog.

I've also been eating a lot of toffee due to some strange toffee disorder I've acquired.

We've been enjoying the break before sports start up again. Busy D. is playing basketball, and Busy Girl is playing volleyball.

A lot of volleyball.

Actually, I may be coming to a city near you due to volleyball.

Speaking of Busy Girl, we found out her molars are totally jacked up during her dental check up last week.

She has beautiful straight teeth thanks to the wonders of orthodontia and her x-rays show that all this nice work is threatened by 4 rogue molars pointing all sorts of directions teeth shouldn't point.

We head to the orthodontist this week and I suspect an oral surgeon is in the cards soon since she'll need to get this done before volleyball starts.

In other irresistible life news, I was looking for something in my dad's attic for him over the weekend, and I ran across an "Adopted Child's Scrap Book" (I'm adopted).

Totally blank.

I told him, "If I had a therapist, this would so be the first thing I'd talk about and I'd have them send you the bill."

Speaking of the attic at my parent's house, I found out two things:

1. I should have had mah ass kicked for leaving all the crap from college up there.

2, My dearly departed mother never met an empty box she didn't like.

As for the crap, joke's on me since I'm going to be the one who has to clean out the attic.

At least I hope I am.

My dad is always full or surprises and sometimes those surprises include physical tasks he's got no business doing and it wouldn't surprise me in the least to go over there and find that he's shimmied up the ladder to the attic and is bent over walking around looking for something.

We'll just call that lumbar laminectomy: the sequel.

I keep threatening to send him to a nursing home if he has to have surgery* again due to something he did.

*my 76 year old dad works full-time. He is more or less able bodied, but had back surgery right after my mother died in 2006 and he and I spent a whole lot of time together as I am an only child.

You haven't lived until you've had to lift your perfectly coherent, 6' 2" father off a toilet.