I span generations. Because I pretty much refuse to grow up perhaps?
These last couple of weeks have been the total pits. First my cats, then Mr. Jazz's aunt (we spent the weekend at the funeral) and when I got back to work Monday, I found out that my colleague, who was thought to have cancer in a lung, actually has it in both, as well as her liver and bones. It's all getting to be a bit much. Well, one good thing, I got an appointment for my yearly physical - which I haven't bothered with in a few years.
In other news (I've always wanted to patch in that anchor man/woman/person phrase), I have family checking out this blog regularly. My brother, sister, sister-in-law and at least one niece. Feels quite strange. So now, seeing as they're peeking into my life I will feel totally vindicated posting torture stories and such of the things they made me endure as a child. Ha! that'll show them - or more likely humiliate me. But then, I'm used to public humiliation. It's part of being the youngest. Actually, it's part of being the total spaz that I am. Nothing like public humiliation to keep one humble. So for every story of how I was tortured, I will post one of how I humiliated myself. Besides, I can always blame it on them. I am what I am because of the things I endured as a child.