IN WHICH MY LITTLE SISTER, AUNT CHRISSY, TURNS 50

 I wrote this post quite awhile ago, but it's one of my very favorites. My sister turns 50 today, and I just can't believe it to be so.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, AUNT CHRISSY!

My favorite Aunt Chrissy story takes place on Eater Sunday 1975.....

Scene: A bustling kitchen in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. A mother scurries about, getting Easter dinner ready. She glances to her left and sees her youngest daughter standing in the doorway.

Mother: Chrissy, I told you that I'm really busy right now and need to get this dinner ready. Can you go play with your Barbies for a few minutes, sweetheart?

Chrissy: Sure, Mommy. But I have so many things to tell you that I thought I would stand here and talk to you while you cook. That way I can fulfill my need to be talking every waking moment of the day and you get to spend some quality time with me.

Mother: Why don't you go wait for Grandma and Uncle Connie to get here?

The little girl walks to the front closet, gets her little green velvet coat, and heads out to the front porch. She sits on the cold hard cement and thinks about what a bust this holiday has been for her. Yesterday, she and her brilliant and gorgeous older sister Constance were playing nuns. This was an activity that they both loved, and two white terry cloth bath towels were always put into use as a simple yet effective head-covering.

Yesterday, though, something seemed off. Constance was out of sorts and was bossier than usual. "Nuns don't have curly hair", she grumbled. "We need to get rid of those stupid curls sticking out of your head thingie."

"OK", the little girl said as she trotted off to get the big scissors. "Will you cut it for me, Coni Jo? I'm only four and not allowed to use the big scissors."

The older sister grinned as she maniacally snipped and snipped all of the gorgeous light brown curls away from her little sister's face.

"There", said Constance. "Now you look like a real nun."

As she reflected on the ensuing spanking that both she and her sister received, the little girl wondered why it was such a big deal that she would have to go to Easter Sunday Church services with her hat on. Didn't everybody wear a hat for Easter?

Later that afternoon, the mother stopped the dinner preparations to call out to the little girl.

Mother: Chrissy? Where are you, honey? Come here and try a pickled beet for me to see if I've got them right. Chrissy?

Constance: She's outside.

Mother: WHAT!!! WHAT THE HELL IS SHE DOING OUTSIDE?!


Constance: You told her to go wait for Grandma.

Mother: Oh for crying out loud! THEY'RE DRIVING IN FROM LIMA AND WON'T BE HERE FOR FOUR HOURS! IT'S TWENTY TWO DEGREES OUT THERE! GO GET YOUR LITTLE SISTER AND TELL HER TO GET IN HERE!!

Constance: OK.

Sadly, Constance is distracted by the latest Nancy Drew mystery that was in her Easter basket that morning. She heads into the den and buries her nose in the book...completely forgetting about her tiny little sister standing alone outside on the front porch.

Later that afternoon....

The front door opens and several voices are heard.

Grandma: Sig?! Are you home? What the hell is Chrissy doing standing out on the front porch?! We pulled up and she said that she had been out there all day waiting for us! Her little nose is running and she's frozen solid! What the heck are you people doing in here?

The relatives all kiss and hug hello in stony silence as the little girl heads upstairs for a hot bath. As she's hanging up her coat, she glances at the curls hidden in the wastebasket and decides that Christmas is definitely her favorite holiday.

THE END


P.S. Here's a few things you should know about Aunt Chrissy:

1. Yes, the hair story is completely true. When she was little she had positively gorgeous light brown curly ringlets that covered her head. I cut them off. (What can I say? I had a head like a bowling ball and was evil.)

2. My sister talked from the minute she woke up until the minute she passed out in her little bed. Some nights, she would tip-toe to the side of Mom and Dad's bed and poke Mom awake because she had more to say or had "forgetted to tell you something."

3. She was a very good little girl and usually did exactly what she was told, so the story above is as true and accurate as I can remember it. We believe that she had been out on that porch for at least three hours, because when Grandma and Uncle Connie finally got there they said she was really really shivering and her lips were a bit blue.

4. My sister isn't just in my life...she is my life. (Sorry, that's a line from Tony Soprano, but it's just too damn apropos not to use it here.) She is funny and kind and strong and very very brave. She takes care of me, tolerates my silly little dog, and feeds all of the birds, squirrels and ducks faithfully and with great care. She is the rock and the leader of our little family, and there are times when I really wonder what I did to be given such a gift of this particular sister. I love her, need her, and care about her more than anything or anyone I've ever known, and I cannot and will not live my life without her in it.

So there you have it. Aunt Chrissy turns 39 today and I couldn't be happier about it.

DAMN, DRAT, AND COMPLETE AND UTTER PHOOEY

Guess who has the flu?

I swear, you can't make this stuff up.

Yesterday, I came home from the d-chair feeling a bit woozy and out of sorts, but that's normal. I should have known something was amiss, though, when I weighed in and had actually lost a little weight. After missing treatment on Wednesday, I should have gained at least three or four kilo.

(Don't get me wrong...I am NOT complaining about weight loss...I just wish it weren't because I haven't kept anything down for three days.)

So here I sit with a damn fever and nausea and flu head and new golf clubs that are mocking me.

Poor Magoo has been trying to watch his Saturday shows while I stomp around and sigh heavily and try to get some sympathy.

If Stewey were here, he would have peed on the drapes and put himself to bed while I finished having my little snit and then he would have demanded a snack, so I suppose I should be happy that Rich is housebroken and can fend for himself in the food department.

Welll....sometimes, at least.

So that's that Dearies. Your poor Spinster is decidedly unwell today and must now go be where others are not.

Please carry on without your hapless court jester today and come tell me all about what you get up to!

FRIDAY

I will never understand myself.

When it's time to do something like stand up, or clean the kitchen, or take a shower and wash my hair, or go somewhere, I will fret and fret and fret over the impending exhaustion that will inevitably follow.

Which is exhausting.

So then I finally do the thing I fretted over, and I shake my head and mumble that I really am a boob, because the fretting took longer and was more tiring than the doing of the darn thing in the first place.

Can anybody relate?

IS IT POSSIBLE TO HAVE A FULL BODY MIGRAINE? (ASKING TOR A FRIEND)

Oey.

My back, neck, and shoulders are in a knotty spasm of a screaming mess that has me questioning getting out of bed ever again.

I just had a nice long chat with Dr Melfi, and we determined that I might just be semi-normal after all. My meltdowns in Indianapolis and inability to function like an adult human were to be expected. And there's even a name for it (made up by me moments ago):

RE-ENTRY COMPLICATIONS

Apparently, the entire world is having similar issues as it comes out of quarantine. I described it as animals being let out of a zoo and not knowing how to use a living room set, and Dr Melfi reminded me that people in prison/isolation often have the same problems adjusting.

I feel like I've been dropped onto another planet, and although I've seen pictures of things on this planet a million times, once confronted with something like being in polite society...I'm clueless.

I'll get my bearings eventually, as will the rest of the world. In the meantime, I'm going to keep bumping into things and bursting into the ugly cry because I feel so damn helpless, but then I'll remember that I have a lane and I'll get back in it and let somebody else take the wheel.

Remember what my dear Aunt JoAnn always told me? "Coni Jo, you can't ask Jesus to take the wheel and then bitch about His driving."

Man...I miss my Aunt JoAnn.

Time for another nap, I think. And then I'll get up and have a nice shower and some dinner and maybe I'll even try to stitch a bit.

Happy Thursday, Dearies!

IN WHICH WE HAVE A BIG FAT FAIL ON OUR TRIAL RUN

We've just returned from Indianapolis. I'm too tired to give you all of the details, but suffice it to say that your beloved Spinster was a hot mess from the moment she woke up yesterday until the moment she collapsed in the Happy Chair moments ago.

We got lost, circled blocks over and over again, had mini meltdowns, got on the wrong elevators, walked about seven miles, and soaked through our clothes with stressy flop sweats and no matter how many paper towels we carried we were still dripping indelicately all over the damn place.

And by "we"...I mean "me".

Magoo stayed at the hotel while I went to my appointments, and it was a high high low low kind if day.

The high high was seeing my beloved Dr Goggins and him telling me if he had a kidney he'd stick one in me immediately. He was thrilled with my weight and compliance to everything he's asked me to do and I even got a few pats and a sideways hug because he and I are now family.

(He uses the f-word a lot, and when I giggled at him using the f-word so much, he said "I forget sometimes, but sorry...I treat my patients like family and my family knows I drop the f-bomb.")

I'm in love.

The bad bad is that the United Network for Organ Sharing has implemented a new allocation method for kidneys, effective March 15. Before this change, I was in a "service area" that pretty much comprised Indiana and small parts of Ohio and Illinois. That meant that the pool was small and being at the top of the list meant a very short wait.

Now, though, the pool size has changed to a 250mile radius around IU, which means my status at the top is less hopeful for a quick transplant. 

The news is devastating, to be sure, but I just need to chill and do my thing....keep the bags packed, watch the weight, be as active as I can, and pray. It'll get here when it gets here.

So, Dearies...I am going to crawl in the big girl sleigh bed for a bit and decompress. Every muscle in my back, neck, and shoulders is screaming and in spasm, so methinks it's time to be still for a bit

So.

What's new with you?

WHAT DO NANCY LOPEZ, ANNIKA SORENSTAM. AND THE SPINSTER STITCHER HAVE IN COMMON?

 

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing at all.

Saturday golfing was fun, and it was wonderful to be outside and with dear friends, but suffice it to say, I won't be hitting the LPGA tour anytime soon. I did splendidly for four holes before my body woke up and said "Movement! We're detecting movement! All systems shut down except Fatigue and Pain centers!Danger! Danger!", so I limped my way through to the bitter end.

Vanity, thy name is Spinster.

I'm paying for it now by not being able to turn my head, lift my arms, or bend my wrists, and I have enough Tylenol in me to stock a medium-sized Walgreens.

Ugh.

Buzzy and I are doing our thing, and then tomorrow we head down to Indy for a visit with the handsome Dr Goggins. I'm actually looking forward to it, since I have worked so hard to get a few pounds under his transplant goal weight.

We'll also check out the hotel and meet the gang there that will be responsible for looking the other way when I check in with my entire studio in tow, and we'll scout all of the good restaurants and whatnot that will keep me fed during recovery.

Easter was quiet and delicious...bar-be-que country ribs, mashed potatoes, mac and cheese, and asparagus. I did do laundry, but not one bit of stitching.

Oh well.

Happy Monday and Happy Dyngus Day, Dearies! I hope your weekend was swell and that the week ahead is wonderful! Come tell me all about it!

 

SATURDAY

This is a copy of a post from 2009 that I wrote when my Uncle Connie passed away. Today is his 85th birthday. I miss him very much and pray for peace and comfort for my Aunt Linda, who grieves him terribly.

My Uncle Connie was a good man. He was tall and handsome and he was very very funny. He lived with and took care of Grandma until she passed away, and then he married the love of his life, Aunt Linda. He was a father and a husband, a grandfather, a brother, a son, an uncle, and a friend. He worked hard for Ford until retirement, and he planted a huge garden every year. When we were little, he took all of us kids to Cedar Point and King's Island, and we had baloney sandwiches and red pop for lunch. He always had gum.

One summer, he and Aunt Linda came to Phoenix for a visit, and I don't think we did anything but laugh and eat the whole time they were there. It was the last bit of time that Mom was able to spend with her little brother, and I think that those days were the happiest for her during all of that chemo.

A lot of people in Lima knew him as Mike, because his full name was Constantine Michael. For me, though, he was always Uncle Connie. The last time Chrissy and I visited him, we were talking about the family, and he said "My mom and pop had all these kids with names like Mary and John, and Don, and JoAnn, and then I came along and they named me Constantine. Go figure."

I am left handed because of my Uncle Connie. We were at Grandma's...coloring in our coloring books, and he said "Connie Jo, you're using the wrong hand!". Of course, he was teasing me, but I immediately switched that crayon over to my left hand and it stayed there from that moment on. (I was Connie Jo then, instead of "Coni", and I never got over feeling bad that I changed the spelling of it whenever I wrote to him.)

When Stewey came along, my Uncle Connie would call me weekly to see how he was doing. I think the name cracked him up, since he always had a little laugh whenever he said it. He would send me every cute email about pets and their silliness, and I told Stewey that one of these days we were going to go over to Lima so that Uncle Connie could get a good look at him.

Uncle Connie passed away on Monday evening after a hard hard fight with cancer. The last time I talked to him, I told him he couldn't go anywhere until he got me down an aisle, and that even though I'm a 43 year old spinster I still had hope, and he said "I'm gonna' lick it, Connie Jo. So don't you worry."

Chrissy and I will go to the services over in Lima on Friday, and then I'll come home and try to figure out how to live up to his legacy. In the meantime, if y'all would say a little prayer for my Aunt Linda, Tiffany, Lori, and Lenny, all the grandkids, my Aunt Mary and my Aunt JoAnn, that would be great. 

Constantine Michael Loukos
April 2, 1936 - October 13, 2009

The Measure of Man
Not how did he die, but how did he live?
Not what did he gain, but what did he give?
Not what was his station, but had he a heart, and how did he play his God-given part?
Not what was his church nor what was his creed, but had he befriended those really in need?
Not what did the piece in the newspaper say, but how many were sorry when he passed away?
Was he ever ready with a word or good cheer, to bring back a smile, to banish a tear?
There are the units to measure the worth
Of a man as a man, regardless of birth.

IN WHICH WE HAVE A VERY QUIET DAY, INDEED

 It's already time for bed, and I feel like I am just now sitting down to stitch.

(Heavy, heavy sigh).

I don't know where the day went, to be honest. There was putzing and futzing and newspaper reading and bill paying and comforter washing and lasagna making and hot shower taking and q-snap moving and baseball watching and basketball watching...

But nothing really to show for it except clean hair and shaved legs.

(Who am I kidding? The legs alone are enough to exhaust me. Why would I think a day that included shaving them would be concluded before bedtime?)

In any event, I really am heading into bed in a moment. I need to start reading before bed again, and tonight I need to start a new book. The last book I read was the first in my life that I have ever thrown against the wall incomplete. I have never been so disappointed in a book before. The writing was ridiculously bad and the editing was even worse, and I was furious that the thing managed to get published.  I didn't read the reviews before ordering it, but if I would have, I could have avoided the aggravation.

(Betty, before you point out that I, too, am a terrible writer and this here blog is FULL of grammatical errors and typos, may I just point out that this here blog is free and just that...a blog.)

The thing that really gripes me is that it is supposed to be a biography of Helene Hanff...the author of 84 Charing Cross Road...which has become my new obsession. I have played the movie every night before bed for about three months now. (No, sadly, I am not exaggerating). I really wanted to learn more about her, and thought this would be a good way to do so.

Nope.

So if anybody out there knows of a biography of Helene Hanff NOT written by Stephen Pastore...could you let me know?

(And if you know Mr Pastore and are offended by my comments, all I can say is that he was either the victim of a bad book deal that did not include proofreading or editing, or he was the perpetrator of a big fat fraud on some stupidly unsuspecting publishing company.)

End of rant.

Big weekend coming up here in Hoosierville. Tomorrow is Cottage Care day, and sometime between 11am and 1pm a new mattress and box spring set is being delivered to CS2. I am mortified to confess the age of the present set, but suffice it to say it is time for a change.

(The current set was a housewarming gift from the partners of the company that I worked for).

(In New Jersey.)

(24 years ago.)

I'm also going to receive a new set of golf clubs tomorrow...an early birthday gift from my JB....and then on Saturday I'll get the chance to try them out when we head over to LaPorte for a day with our friends Mike and Cheryl.

(Don't worry, Dearies. I will have strict adult supervision and will be sent straight to the driving of the cart if my energy wanes the least little bit.)

But first, there is sleeping to be done and dialysis to be endured. I was slightly less unwell yesterday evening, so pulling less fluid is definitely a goal.

I hope your April is off to a good start and that the weekend ahead will be perfectly lovely for you. If you celebrate such, Happy Easter!

HERE I AM...BEING PRESENT

One of the things Dr Melfi talks about with me is learning to be present.

(No, Betty...I am not saying that I AM a present.  I'm trying to BE present.)

As in, paying attention to the moment and quieting the freak show in my head that screams obscenities and to do lists and shoulds and fears, regrets, and admonishments.

But that can be pretty hard to do when you're me, and this whole waiting for a kidney thing is definitely giving me a run for my money.

Yes, there are things that need to be done...like laundry and plant watering and face washing and putting on one's shoes and coming to dialysis and feeding myself and such, but those are just simple life tasks that don't need to be made into the proverbial mountains that need climbing.

This damn dialysis is kicking my b.u.t.t. but I decided to kick it right back. We're going to try to take less fluid off today to see if that helps, but if I'm still knocked out and need a day or so to recover...who cares? I have to remember whatI told my dear Dad when he came home from the hospital and was complaining about being so out of it: "You don't have to fly a plane or solve world peace or even wear underpants today. Close your eyes and relax and enjoy the fact that for the first time in your life you get to just be...still."

Being still and present.

Hmmm. How the heck do you do that when all you want to do is run around at Mach Five with your hair on fire and stitch all the things and cook all the things and visit with all of your peoples and hit all of the golf balls and read all the books and....and....and.

So Buzzy and I are doing our thing and I'm watching the sun rise and am wondering how I got these purple jelly bean fingernails. (I'm pretty sure I did a mani/pedi yesterday, but don't have any memory of doing so precisely).

Enough of this silliness for the moment. If Stewey were here he'd probably say "Mo-ther, there just isn't room in that tiny little brain of yours for all of your nonsense. Keep the parts that allow you to answer my every need and jettison the rest" and then he'd probably go water the drapes and have a lovely nap with his little face in the sun.

Oh, how I miss him so!

Damn dog.

I hope your Hump Day is sufficiently humpy for you and yours and that you can be present for all of the good stuff in your world. Come tell me all about it!

TUESDAY

 

MONDAY AGAIN!

Hello, Dearies!

Well, despite not sleeping last night I am up at the heiney crack of dawn and all hooked up and doing my thing in the d-chair. I know exactly what the problem is...a total abandonment of my pre-sleep routine that used to involve going to be early and reading for an hour or so.

(Last night, though, I was in a stitching frenzy and hurried myself off to bed late and then tossed and turned and fretted until the wee hours.)

Here's the source of the frenzy:

I don't think Jacqueline reads this here blog, so we should be safe. I'm going to have this framed in something super super fancypants and give it to her for her shower along with some items from her registry.

Her groom is a huge Ohio State fan and the MOB suggested something funny for him about the Notre Dame/Ohio State aspect, since my girl J is a huge fan of her Aunt Coni's Alma Mater. I found a baseball card from the 1935 Game of the Century showing the final score of Notre Dame 18, Ohio State 13...so into a frame that will go as a little something fun for him.

Just FYI, I stitched that piece in one afternoon. I probably could have stretched it out over a few days, but I was anxious to get it finished.

Nothing else too exciting to report from the day. The weather was cold and gloomy for most of it, so we stayed in and watched basketball and had delicious grilled burgers for dinner. The Martins has 95% lean patties already made, and I have perfected cooking them on the stove top in my cast iron grill pan. We normally eat them on toasted English muffins, but last night opted for ciabatta rolls instead. 

So a quiet, lovely weekend here in Hoosierville, followed by what I hope will be a lovely quiet week. We don't have Easter plans drawn up yet, but I can promise you there will be ham and pickled eggs and potato salad if it kills me!

Happy Monday to one and all! Come tell me all about life in your corner of the world!

SATURDAY SPINSTER BLISS...

 

IN WHICH WE MEET ANOTHER KIDNEY ANGEL

So there I was, minding my business and tackling my to do list, when I came upon another Kidney Angel. A Kidney Angel is anybody who has watched over or helped me in any way during this little road trip (*) I've been on.

(Yup...like all of you.)

This one's name is Tamra, and she is the office manager of the Residence Inn in Indianapolis where I will be staying for a dry run on April 6th, and then again for a month after treatment. I am scheduled to visit with Dr Goggins and the transplant team in April and have a CT scan, so I figured it would be a good time to scope out the hotel and surroundings so I am fully prepared.

As I was explaining this to Tamra, she said "We've got you covered, Girl. About 3/4 of our guests are here for transplant or treatment at IU and our property manager's husband is a liver transplant recipient. This is your first kidney transplant...it's our 500th. The only thing you need to concentrate on is keeping that new fat juicy little kidney safe and sound and healthy, and let us do the rest."

Yes, Dearies. I burst into the ugly cry right there in the Happy Chair in front of the Chicken Sisters and everybody.

What a relief!

Now...on to the stitching portion of the program before Betty fires off another tirade about how she doesn't give a tinker's damn about my bleeping kidneys....just show her the stitching.

Oh, dear Betty.

Dear mean spiteful crazy Betty.

I played with Eliana and got quite a bit finished:

I hope to have quite a bit of time with her this weekend, since my to do list is empty. The laundry is done, folded, and put away and things are sufficiently tidy to keep me from futzing or stressing too much. I don't think the weather is going to cooperate with us for any golfing or outdoor fun, but I'll be perfectly happy to sit in my Happy Chair and stitch a few days away.

Thanks to some group texting with my friend Denise and goddaughters, I got approval of my wedding outfit for J's big day:

Those aren't the shoes for the ceremony....for that I will wear high heels. They should be here in a few days, and I expect to spend quite a bit of time in training so I don't tumble head first into the cake. Now, before you tell me that wearing black to a wedding is bad form...the bride's colors are black and cream with lots of greenery for accents. 

Besides, I got approval.

So that's the report for today. I am in the d-chair loaded with the newspapers for company and a new little blanket for company:

Happy Friday, Dearies! 

(*) Some might call it the Voyage of the Damned, but I like to think of it as the Griswold'd Fun Old Fashioned Family Vacation.

THURSDAY AGENDA

I have to confess that my d-chair experience is getting harder and harder as time goes on. I suspect that it's all tied up with age and anxiety and menopause and....me being me...but man o' manachevitz! It is definitely giving me a good run for the money!

This means that I don't have any stitching news to report, Dearies. I'm sorry about that. I came home yesterday and crashed into a long nap, woke up in time for dinner, and then went right back to bed for a twelve hour sleep. 

(Not a lot of time for needle and thread.)

But today is a new day, and I'm almost through my second cup of damn good. My face is washed and medicated (darn rash), my teeth are brushed, and the laundry and dishes are sploshing away in their respective contraptions.

Once I finish the papers I think I might play with Eliana a bit. She has been so patiently waiting in her project bag for me, so today seems like a good day to let her stretch her legs a bit.

How about you? What's new in your neck of the woods? Come tell me all about it!

BACK IN THE SADDLE

 

Heidy ho, Dearies!

Buzzy and I are here in the d-chair doing our thing and fat as sausages. I missed treatment on Monday due to feeling decidedly unwell after my second shot, so the fluid gain was a little higher than normal.

But all will be well again by the end of the week and I will go back to feeling like I'm fit and fantastic rather than poorly and pudgy.

Finishing Spring was bittersweet, since it was such a delightful companion these last few weeks. If all goes well and I feel good enough to do so, I am going to frame her when I get home. I have a frame that I hope to use for all of these seasons...swapping them out as the months change.

Next up is a small gift for my goddaughter's bridal shower. I have been a maniac with the plotting and planning and organizing and imagining, and lo and behold...it's almost here! Jacqueline's wedding date is June 5 and Sara's is October 2, so it looks like I will be happily busy futzing about for a bit.

(I should probably be clear and confess that the only thing I have to do is show up, but showing up involves girdles and high-heeled shoes and accessories and mascara and things and this will take a miracle to pull off without looking like a sweaty mess.)

My JB and I are going on a salad kick starting tonight. I spent yesterday chopping and containerizing and grilling chicken so that we don't have an excuse to order in. For the most part I have behaved myself, but the weekend felt like one big craving for munchies and Chinese food. 

Forgive me for being all over the place today. I feel a bit discombobulated, but am determined to get it together.

Happy...whatever day it is today. I hope things are wonderfully swell in your corner of the world and that you'll come tell me all about it!

FINISHED

 Spring

The Cricket Collection

28ct Dubloon by PTP

DMC floss

 

SOMETIMES I JUST ROCK MY OWN LITTLE WORLD

I have no earthly idea what came over me, Dearies! One minute I was munching a bagel and contemplating what time I needed to head out for the shot, and the next I was knee deep in my closet...purging, sorting, tidying, seasonal-swapping, and organizing.

This chore has been on my mind for quite some time, and the whole waiting for a phone call and moving to Indianapolis had me more than a little stressed. All of my lighter weight clothes were packed away and the pajamas I had ready to go were really only suitable for arctic temps.

Now I know what I've got and what I need to purchase...nightgowns for the hospital, a lightweight robe, some lightweight "lounging" clothes that are the equivalent of flannel jams, and some slippers.

Whew! Looks like I'll be spending some time shopping tonight!

I'm happy to tell you that the seven bags of clothes will go to St Margaret's House for the ladies there. There are tons of great office outfits and interview suits that I'm sure will come in handy for them, as well as several nice handbags and accessories. My working life is well behind me, I think. Hopefully somebody out there will get some good use out of everything.

OK...I'm off. 

Hope your Saturday has been as happy and satisfying as mine has been! WooHoo!