A friend of mine is turning 50 this weekend. It got me thinking. I have friends in their 50s and friends in their mid- to late 20s.

I span generations. Because I pretty much refuse to grow up perhaps?

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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.

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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.