One of the worst... oh wait.

I was going to say that this was one of the worst days I've ever had.

But then I thought about it... and it's not even close. Shit, today wasn't even in the top 500 worst days I've ever had.

True, I let someone go today. It wasn't an easy decision, and I hated doing it, but it was well thought out, and I sought the advice and feedback of two of my partners before actually doing anything. It wasn't a snap decision, either. I waited for the evidence and advice to trickle in. That's unlike me, but it's interesting how this is also the first time I was able to simply do it and move on. I feel bad, but I don't feel wrong.

Compare today with so many of those days from 1996 (when I started drinking again) to 2003 (when I quit again). Hell, I'm sober today. I didn't come home and drink myself silly. I just had a stressful day at work, like a million other people did. Lucky me.

Seriously. Lucky me.

So hey, God: thanks for the opportunity to have a run-of-the-mill really difficult day.

Oh, an update: My old bandmate (the singer), wrote me a really, really interesting email that served to:

1. Remind me that I was a dick for commenting like that. (She didn't say that. I did.)
2. Make me think a lot about how I relate to my pre-family life.

I'm going to write her back (privately, not in this blog), but I have to think about it a little.

Love to all. Even you, the vanishing man.

Don't.

It's hard to do the right thing without making a big point of it... of proving myself right... of trying to make the other person realize that they are wrong.

Sometimes, though, it's just best to make a decision and stick with it. Then move on. And to do it without editorial content, and without further explanation. Sometimes, explanations don't help. If there was further room for explanation, these decisions wouldn't have to be made in the first place. Sometimes.

Disengage.

I was raised in atmosphere of us-vs-them, crush-or-be-crushed. But life isn't like that. It's possible to make decisions based on fact, without animosity, and without anger. And to stick with them.

I think I might be a grownup after all. Sometimes.

Love to all. Even you, the guy making crazed, sweeping gestures at a maltese.

Yuck. And oops.

This is 20% warning, 80% confession of being an idiot.

The warning: check your personal email lists. Make sure that you clear people off from time to time. Or else you’ll accidentally be sending family info and updates to people who you don't necessarily want to receive such personal information.

And it can put you in an awkward position.

Every six months or so, I check the blog of some of my old bandmates. Actually, it's the singer of my old band, who I didn't know that well and didn't like that much, but there's some references in there to her boyfriend (or ex, or husband, I have no idea), who I really looked up to back in the 90's.

I totally admit that I check the blog out of imperfect motives… After years and years of reading about how, someday, they are going to make music again, I have a really morbid curiosity about how long this melodrama is going to last.Frankly, I have lingering resentments over how she and her boyfriend treated Maggie, and how they treated the other members of the band after I left.

This was years ago, but hey... just like I keep in touch with friends every six months or so, I also check in on these people from time to time. I don't really like them, but they were pretty huge in my life back then.

Wow. That's a long time ago. Whoa.

Anyway: acting on resentments doesn’t work. Case in point: The last time I was there, I I left a comment about how annoying it was to continuously read about how, someday the musical story will continue, etc., etc.., and maybe it how it was time to either do something or stop talking about doing something. I thought I was being anonymous, but my browser autofilled championable.com as the "commenter URL."

Whoops. Serves me right.

Admittedly, the repetitive self-importance only partially drove my commenting. I'd say it was 30% habitually checking up on people I know (which is usually non-snarky), 30% did-they-make-music-yet?, and 50% my-god-is-the-author-still-whining?

Not the best mix. And not my best moment as a person. But this is a confession, after all.

Resentment is stupid. I never should have commented.

But stupid turns bizarre when it turns out I had also been sending these people my personal website updates for YEARS, without even realizing it. They had never responded, ever, and I just forgot that they were in the group. Whoops.

They had been getting emails from me and Maggie with links to pictures of my children for TEN YEARS... and not ONCE said they said "hey, why are you sending me these?" Or "stop." Or, "fuck off." Or even "hi!" Bleah.

So, not knowing about the autofill, I was a little surprised when I got this comment in my blog... sadly misplaced under a post about my daughter (I deleted it and moved it here):

I've been ignoring your email and your comments on my blog years now. I thought I was being pretty clear that I don't want to be in touch, but I suppose that wasn't enough. Let me clarify now: I don't want to be in contact with you. Please stop visiting my blog and leaving critical comments about me. Your hostility is NOT welcome at all.

Well... no, jackass. Saying "please don't send me updates on your kids" would have made it clear. If I don't know I'm sending you emails, you not responding to them doesn't mean you are sending a clear message about anything. Sheesh, I heard you became a therapist, for fuck's sake. I would think, maybe, you would know this. And although it turns out I've been unknowingly sending emails for years... I only left a handful (if that) of comments in the last decade. So what the fuck?

But then again: it serves me right for commenting unkindly.

Shouldn't have done it... but as everyone knows, if you post on a blog, people will comment. If you don't like it, delete the comments or moderate your bog. God, I hate that bullshit. It's a public space. FUCK. I only deleted one person's comments in the history of this blog, and that was because they were incredibly long and senseless.

Calm down, there, Richie. You're gettin' all riled.

Anyway, I feel bad about leaving the comment. She is who she is, and I don't know her anymore anyway. And this microexperience has made me think about how well I knew her boyfriend, who I really looked up to back then. Not that well, it turned out... I found that out well enough when they treated Maggie like shit.

But the idea that she had been receiving emails from me for a decade and never bothered to say word one... well...

Yuck.

I told Maggie this story when I got home work. She was a little like, "Rich, you idiot, why did you post a comment to that person's blog?" But when I told her I had accidentally been sending them emails for a decade, she said, "Ew."

Ew is right.

So, sorry about the snarky comment. But in the great scheme of things, getting caught leaving a comment actually helped me realize some things: her boyfriend was the single most disappointing person I have ever met, and I think I've let this resentment fester for years.

Tonight, I'm going to pray for them, and let this shit go.

Even little resentments like this one aren't worth keeping.

Love to all. Even you, Sovtek boy.

Without sin.

My daughter received her first penance this weekend. It was unbelievably sweet.

I could see her from a distance... far up in the corner of the church. Her feet were dangling and her arms were folded and she looked totally engaged in her conversation with Father V. For his part, Father V. was leaning forward, listening intently. He was making comments (or asking questions) to which my daughter responded. After watching this for a minute, my eyes teared up and I had to look away. Radiant, radiant.

Father V. made the sign of the cross, and sent my daughter over to the tabernacle. Maggie and I met her there, knelt down beside her, and prayed together.

Rarely... too rarely... I can feel God in my life. This was one of those times.

Love to all. Even you, the woman who blames me nonetheless.

15.0

Just ran 15 miles. I'm starting to think I might be ready for Atlanta after all.

Love to all. Even you, the Escalade owner who parked illegally, on a slant, in the church parking lot.

My name isn't Frances or: Bonanza Jellybean, Cont'd.

Sometimes I think that being nice is a liabilty.

I posted a comment on Bonanza Jellybean, a blog I found through while surfing one the links of one of my links. In my comment, I stated that I understood that I didn't know her all that well, and that I was being "incredibly presumptive" in my comment.

The main point of my comment was:

1. She should maybe not take corrective action based on psuedo-medical advice from a 3rd grade teacher. Asking a doctor might be a good idea.
2. Beware of telling children things that make them body conscious. Especially girls.
3. I am aware that I've only read one post on her blog, so sorry if I was being incredibly presumptive.
   

In my post here ABOUT the comment, I specifically said: "Hope I didn't overreact."

Then, Shqipo asked me if my name was Frances.

He asked me this because the attribution lines on Bonanza Jellybean make it look kind of like the comments belong to the wrong person. So he was associating the wrong comment with my name.

When I went back to see what he was talking about, I saw that I had driven some folks into a mad, defensive posture. No one more than the blog's owner, but a lot of the commenters were pretty pissed off, too.

Most of the people who criticized me used the "He must think he's SO perfect, judging you on one post. He must think he's the perfect parent." Hell, the blog's owner called me a fucktard. Which, actually, is awesome. But not as good as "Pretard." Which is way better. But that's beside the point.

Anyone who accuses me of thinking I'm perfect clearly hasn't read my blog. Or even my "about me" thingy on the top of every page. I'm a fucking ALCOHOLIC. I spent a great deal of my life completely drunk off my ass. Regardless of the innumerable other character defects I have, and there are MANY, this alone precludes me calling myself "perfect."

So fuck that noise.

Anyway: my other point, is the idea that I'm "judging someone on one post." We ALL judge people based on imcomplete information. Hell, I'd love have Ms. Britt, Fiona, Shqipo, Gina, Vinny, Lisa, Eric, Amy, Christelle, TC, et al, for a huge-ass roundtable once-a-week dinner, but we live in different parts of the WORLD. It's not possible.

You think you really know your coworkers? How many people are utterly certain about every situation about which they posit an opinion. Clearly, we're all making educated guesses. If not, everyone would pretty much think the same thing about everything. At that's not the case.

What I try to do, and what was completely ignored in this case, is make sure people know I'm aware that my comments are based on my limited knowledge. I literally SAID this in the comment: "I'm sorry if this is incredibly presumptive."

But you know what? It's the fucking BLOG world. Why do people put shit out there that they don't want people to read and comment on? Blogs can be "members only." It's easy. Or, you can moderate comments to filter out opinions you don't want... leaving only the comments that say "Man, you're awesome!" or "Right on!" Or whatever floats your boat. Or, at the very least, post a header that says:

Do not comment on this blog unless you have read the whole thing and thoroughly understand the psychology of the owner.

Me? I think the people who disagree with me make this blogging thing just as interesting as the folks who I tend to agree with. Disagreement makes me clarify my own position.

Hell. It sometimes makes me CHANGE my position.

Love to all. Even you, Painting Chef.

Faith.

I am rapidly coming to the conclusion that I need to refocus my energies. Literally. I need to take family energy, and focus it on family. Friend energy on my actual friends. Romantic energy on Maggie. Work energy on work.

I think I sometimes mix up my foci, and throughs off my spiritual gyroscope.

On that note: I sustained a profound disappointment in someone today, but I'm finding it to be remarkably helpful, in terms of examining why I let certain things upset me... and why I shouldn't.

Anyway. This is vague, I realize. But it is what it is. Sorry.

Also, "Epic Movie" sucks. Like, big time. My 10-year-old disliked it as much as I.

Love to all. Even you, the unbelievably foul-mouthed kid at the Greenberg Multiplex.

Maggie gets funny.

I have this bad habit: I call Maggie every day right when she's about to leave to take the kids to the bus. She tries to be nice about my timing, but always has to say: "I have to get off the phone or we'll be late for school." She says this every time I call. Without fail.

Today, I knew my timing was bad. But I called anyway. And instead of saying "Hello," I said: "Say those words you know I want to hear, baby!"

And she said:

Rich, you are right. I am wrong.

Hilarious girl, her.

Love to all. Even you, the guy on the 6 train who refused to look at the map.

The 9/11 families: Enough is enough.

NY1 has a brief article about how some of the family members of the victims of the WTC attacks in 2001 are, yet again, protesting the memorial design.

The WTC Memorial foundation had agreed to list the victims by name either based on where they worked or where they were when they died, but...

...the family members want to add the victims' ages, the companies they worked for and the floors they worked on to be listed.

Enough is enough. This isn't a private memorial. It's a public memorial. And there's only so much say the families should have, unless they want to pay for it themselves on private land. This is a memorial honoring the victims, put up by New York City.

And New York City can decide how it wants to honor them.

Love to all.

Best marketing email EVER.

Oh my goodness. This is AWESOME. It's from a company called "StaffITNow."

Subject: Fill the Holes in Your IT

Got Some StaffIng Holes To Fill?

Sometimes, it's good to have holes...like a hole-in-one during a round of golf. Most times though, holes are a problem, like when you get a hole in your tire while driving. When faced with that unfortunate situation, you seek the help of your friendly mechanic to plug your tire. So when you have holes in your staff, to whom do you turn?

I just felt so dirty after reading this. Dirty.

Love to all. Even you, the snarky copywriter who uses three times as many words as he needs to... no matter what.

The truth hurts.

My friends are so used to me. I can't shock them at all. I'm on the right. And sexist as it may be, I only talk this way to dudes.

Love to all. Even you, speakerphone guy.

Can't win 'em all.

Hell, I can't RUN them all.

I bailed on the Manhattan Half-Marathon yesterday. Instead, I ran 10 miles in my basement while watching Die Hard 3. I decided that 20-degree weather and my propensity towards upper-respiratory badness precluded my running. Work and family-availability prevail.

I still feel like a loser for not running, though. Alas.

Love to all. Even you, the guy who sneezed so loud I almost pooped in my pants.

Scary post.

Every now and then I surf the links of MY links. I look at people who people I find interesting find interesting. Say THAT three times fast.

This post scared the crap out of me, from a "Let's accidentally turn my daughter into a bulimic" perspective.

Then again, I'm exhausted, and am going to take a nap now. I commented on her post. Hope I didn't overreact.

Love to all. Even you, the mom who extended the visiting four-year-old's tantrum-laden playdate ending by about twenty minutes.

Run.

So, well, whoops.

The Manhattan Half-Marathon is this Sunday. I thought it was in another week or so. I'm SO not ready for this. But I'm running it anyway. Yesterday, I ran 7 miles, just to make sure I'd be able to run 13 tomorrow.

Yesterday.... well... sucked.

I had three clients call to complain about work performed (even work that had been performed months ago, to happy and signed-off-upon results). I've had interviewees not show up, and those that were were attitudinally challenged. I've had one staff person developing a moderate internal Culture of Opposition, and another who needs to learn that her job, however interpersonally fun, requires adherence to a hierarchy.

I have one client who, it turns out, was sued by one of our partners for 42k. They owe us 10k. I have another client who has decided only to pay us half of what they owe us, for reasons, as far as I've been able to uncover, are made up. I have one MORE client who said she's just not paying us, just because she doesn't want to.

I'm a wreck.

It's times like this that I just want to fire everyone who's not a partner and just do everything myself. I'm a great recruiter, I can do collections, I can do invoicing...

I don't know if it's a crisis of confidence in my STAFF, or a crisis of confidence in me.

My beloved isn't helping. (Oh, by the way, she doesn't read this blog. People are confusing comments from one person with comments from my wife.) I checked our checking account, and it looks like we're deficit spending. She's also suggesting really expensive things for the office (I asked her to help decorate). And when I express doubt, say, about the price and look of the lamps she picked, she buys two of them anyway "just to see how it looks." And when I ask her to cancel the order, she decides to buy them for her office at home. (Okay. One lamp was $40. The other, though, was $189. Gulp.)

Where, exactly, is that money supposed to come from?

One of my partners drew a really simple graph. He drew a square and put a thick line down the middl. Then he said: "This side is work. This side is home. Don't let them meet. You're first mistake was letting her paint."

I think he might have been right.

I don't seem to be able to find a way to destress and calm down. Maybe I need more sleep. (Duh.) Maybe I need to eat better (not having a Whole Foods nearby sucks).

Not sure.

Anyway. I'm in something of a funk. I'm going to try and work my way out of it.

Rock on.

Love to all. Even you, the NJ taxi on the West Side Highway who wouldn't pick a lane.

Anyway.

Oh, I don't know.

It's 6:30. My feet are up. Everyone's gone home. My office is empty.

I spent the entire day wrestling with a new payrolling system... sometimes literally. The payroll company sent us a PC, a Monitor, and TWO printers... I thought they were sending us a single check printer. Crazy.

The PC had a user account that was "managed," and they didn't give us the password. Lucky me, I guessed that they were silly enough to leave it as the login name. It was. We changed that right away.

I REALLY don't like having computers on my network over which I don't have admin access... but, thanks to bad security and piss-poor IT policy, they left the default windows Admin account password blank. I changed all the passwords, including their little Techie password account, and felt a little better about having that pile o' XP crap chit-chatting with my OS X Server.

Anyway.

I'm going to go home in a minute. But I have to say... I feel fried. Not upset, nor disturbed, just kind of drained of color. Cardboard-ish.

Would all of you like to have lunch on Friday?

Love to all. Even you, the young artist who couldn't stifle her strange and arrogant chuckle.

Hey! HEY!

I just replaced the top manifold on my dishwasher.

AND IT WORKS!

Holy CRAP!

Love to all. Even you, the Apple repair center guy who misassembled my MacBook Pro.

My day: a haiku.

Winter winds blowing.
My to-do list seems longer
than when I started.

Love to all. Even you, the street dude with the bloody hands.

Bliss.

Love to all. Even you, the futurist who threw me into a panic this morning.

View from the floor.

I'm sitting on the kitchen floor, reading an installation manual for our old dishwasher. There are identical-twin 5-year-old boys visiting my youngest for a play date. Maggie is out at the skating rink with my daughter and oldest.

I felt that I needed to share this.

Love to all. Even you, the misguided youngster who doesn't know how good she has it.

Useless protest.

In Times Square yesterday, there was a protest about the U.S. Government's new (and old) position on the Iraq War.

Useless, I say. Well-meaning, but useless.

Why? Because there can be NO bigger protest than the mid-term elections. No bigger statement than the Iraq Report released by Baker, et al. Only 30% of Republican's think Bush has a viable plan for Iraq.

The country is convinced. The only person who isn't is President George W. Bush.

And he isn't listening.

Love to all. Even you, the guy who spilled his coffee into the container of sugar packets in Starbucks.

6:52am Casual Friday.

'cuz now I'm in NYC, in my office. Ha!

Love to all. Even you, the loudtalker who repeated the last three words of each sentence... every sentence.

5am Flannel.

I love my new PJs.

Love to all.

Infallible.

For the folks blasting me for questioning certain tenets of the Catholic Church, for those folks telling me the Church is never wrong, and is always "univocal" ...

I ask you to kindly explain this.

Love to all. Even you, the angry leading the angrier.

All because it's right-wing... [updated]

...that doesn't mean it's wrong. And all because it's "left-wing," that doesn't mean it's wrong, either. I agree with my Conservative brethren on a variety of military and economic issues. In fact, there are TONS of things that aren't right/left/center, etc.

Opinions don't always have to be pushed into little bins.

So when Steve Nicoloso (who, according to his comment in this post, prides himself on the fact that he's not very nice) said:

The idea that the Church's teaching on contraception is causative (or even correlative) with ills such as neglect, HIV, and murder is standard left-wing agitprop, and not worthy of any response above mockery.

It bummed me out.

The fact is, the science is, that the availability of barrier-method contraception does not lead to increased promiscuity. But LACK of barrier method contraception DOES lead equal higher death rates. Period.

If I say "the sky is blue," Steve, does my position on gay rights mean I'm wrong?

The sky IS blue. Being anti-condom kills. Love rules. These are absolutes.

Steven also said:

NFP is not a licit method of contraception, but rather a licit method to delay conception or space out children for just reasons. A fine point, perhaps, put a clear one to those willing to think with the Church.

It's actually NOT a fine point. It's a pretend point. The whole "think with the Church" comment, though... that's just frightening. And it's augmented by Steven referring to the:

"...Church's clear and univocal teaching throughout her history."

Nothing could be further from the truth. The Church has absolutely NOT had a "univocal" teaching throughout History. Church. From start to present... there have been radical disagreements over doctrine and dogma. The Pauline Church was WAY more liberal than the folks who followed Peter. Deacons have been suppressed. Nazis indirectly (at best) supported. You've had Crusades, multiple Popes, and Creeds (Nicene and otherwise) which came about due to politics. Indeed, the Gospels themselves, while divinely inspired (in my opinion) are also political statements. Especially John, which was written in no small part to put down Thomas, and solidify the power of the Twelve.

Jesus created an Apostolic Church, with Peter as his rock. But none of those Apostles are, were, have been, or will be God.

How any follower of the Greatest Rebel of All Time, Jesus Christ, could say that you have to blindly follow the teaching of clearly fallible men is beyond me.

God demands otherwise.

Love to all. Even you, Steve.

Zing.

A song from Liz Phair's last album came on my iPod in my office.

My assistant noticed.

Love to all. Even you, Mr. Very Visible Hairy Chest.

Abortion, Birth Control, “Respect Life.”

This is the text of a note I sent to my favorite priest at my church today. I’ve never written him before, but after a “Respect Life” homily, I felt I’d be hypocritical if I didn’t.

Dear Father M,

There are very few issues with which I can’t see both sides. Agree or not, I think it’s important to take a step back and try to understand where folks are coming from, and to try and see things from their point view. Thinking about it, there’s only one issue where I absolutely reject the “opposing” viewpoint: gay rights, gay marriage, etc. For the life of me, I cannot fathom how anyone could possibly say that being gay is somehow wrong, bad, inappropriate, or otherwise a question of “morality.” There is no “other side” on this one. Whoever is anti-gay is just, to me, purely wrong.

But that’s not why I’m writing.

On Sunday, you gave a homily about stem cell research. I can understand the moral and ethical reasons behind being against embryonic research, and I’ve read a little about how our own (marrow-based?) stem cells might be more effective in healing illnesses. But your most emphatic reason for abandoning stem cell research stopped me cold:

“There’s no guarantee that it’s going to work.”

I was pretty blown away by that logic. If the possibility of failure is a reason not to continue, then I can see very little that we should attempt.

Love is risk. Life is risk. Parenting is risk. Opening a school is risk. Heck, crossing a street is risk. Especially in the SUV Heaven that is Westchester, NY.

But even THAT isn’t why I’m writing.

I need to understand the Church’s moral stance on pre-conception birth control. I can fully understand the Church’s position on abortion, and post-conception birth control like Plan B, RU-486, etc. But the idea of pre-conception birth control being immoral seems just the opposite.

In my view, being anti-contraception is being a tacit accomplice to the spread of misery and disease. More directly: being anti-contraception is to be a tacit accomplice to murder. Murder via HIV, murder via neglect… there’s a lot of options on this one.

I sort of understand the “natural law” argument. But frankly, if we’re not supposed to modify the way we’ve been set up by God, then we should probably stop wearing clothes, riding in cars and airplanes, and DEFINITELY stop with all this “medical care.” Talk about intervening on natural processes.

The kicker, though, is that the Church approves of “Natural Family Planning,” which I understand to be the updated and MUCH more reliable birth control replacement for the “rhythm method.”

My understanding is that by using a combination of measurements (of secretions) and temperature, it is possible and allowable for Catholics to have recreational sex with an anti-conception accuracy that rivals barrier methods.

Where’s the true moral difference here? There’s a mechanical difference that’s self-evident, but the goal is the identical: having sex for fun, and to avoid conception.

I’m baffled. Truly baffled. Help?

* * *

Love to all. Even you, the lady who wouldn't even read this letter.

Banned.

Last Sunday, my employees and I gathered together to paint the new office. We put up primer and the first coat. Today, the second coat is going up. They are meeting at 10am to get cooking.

...I, however, won't be there.

It's like this: you need some copy punched up? Give me five minutes. Computer broken? I'm on it. Kids need motivation / distraction? I'm the man. But, um, need someone to paint without messing spraying paint everywhere like it came from a water gun? Well...

Maggie and my employees banned me from painting.

So I'll be home alone with the kids, again, while Maggie goes to the city to hang with my crew. Yesterday, she was at a job interview, and then completely crashed for the night at, like, six o'clock. So, it's a solo-childcare weekend. In fact, that's the one thing about this gig Maggie is up for... it includes two Saturdays a month, which means I'm going to have to figure out how to do two soccer games and ice hockey pretty much simultaneously.

How do single parents do it?

Love to all. Even you, fumbles.

The ultimate ogeda machine.

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is my first-ever "fancy" car. We signed the papers today, picking it up Monday. I'm kind of freaking out. It's really nice, though. It's a 2007 328XI wagon, all-wheel drive.

After 10 years, we're not going to have a minivan anymore.

This is really Maggie's car. I'm going to be using the Miata, mostly. But jeez. I've got a beemer. Never thought THAT would happen.

Love to all. Even you, the bristly kid at the playground who acted like it would be a privilege to have him play hide-and-seek with us.

We interrupt this here blog...

...to point out that my five year old boy is an artistic genius. That's one emotive shark.

Love to all. Even you, the lady with the timing issues.

My computer hell.

That is one hog-ass process. Didn't even NOTICE the 99.9% CPU usage when I snapped this.

This was only the beginning of my computer hell day. I'm too tired to go into it.

But, still. I'm excited about the prospect of things.

Love to all. Even you, the lady who talked on her cell phone in three different languages.

It's all wick, baby.

Fuck that whole "burning the candle at both ends" thing. Right now, it's all wick.

This URI I've got (not to be confused with a UTI, please) is hanging on strong, in spite of four days of Levaquin. Last night, it kept me up until about 12:15am, hacking away... then let me sleep for three hours. I took the 5am train to Grand Central, worked on some marketing materials, went to my AA meeting, then started my first day at the new company.

It was a strange and interesting day. I've never been in such a leadership position before. I'll get into some of this later.

Home, home, home.

I'm dead tired, but Maggie is going out tonight, so I've got to give the two little ones a bath and get them to bed before I do the same myself.

Zzzz.

Love to all. Even you, the nice lady who wanted to co-opt our branding on day one.