Told you I was a freak as a child. Like I'm not now.

I have to admit it was kind of fun dusting them off and having memories come back of which ones were my favorites. I remembered having some models that I realized must've been my best friend Leigh's, 'cause they're not here. Between the two of us we had almost every one offered in the 1970s. Our moms must've done some hella coordinating to keep us from having dupes of everything.

Deb decided to cook after all on Saturday night. She swears it's relaxing. So she made clam chowder. Pretty damn good.

Last night she was trying a meat pastry thing stuffed with ground beef and cabbage. But she experimented with some semolina flour in the pastry dough and it didn't rise. For some reason, her breads don't rise when she's pre-menstrual. So I think hormones in the air have some effect on yeast or something.

I suggested the phyllo dough in the freezer, and when that didn't work out too well, she went with wonton wrappers and made fried wontons. They were great. My baby scores again. We had home made raspberry ice cream and crispy, flat chocolate chip cookies for dessert. Num.

Jake had dinner with us Sat. and Sun. (and probably tonight too) since her sweetie is out of town. All through the weekend we've had little reminders of Sara being absent from the group and have missed her. Stuff that would've been more funny had she been here, or observations we wished she'd been here to hear and respond to. I'm anxious to have her back home, and hope her birth family realizes how fabulous she is. If her dad makes her feel bad, I'll karmically kick his ass myself.

And speaking of feeling bad, my stupid arm woke me up twice last night. If I didn't need it to prop myself up during sex, I'd have it lopped off right now. Stupid left arm. Deb suggests I go to the chiropractor again today. I'm thinking it may be time for a visit with my general practitioner. Maybe some muscle relaxants would help.

I prefer Molly's method of waking me up (this morning it was swatting two of my pairs of glasses onto the floor), to the pounded-with-a-meat-tenderizer feeling in my arm.

Katie hurled her entire breakfast this morning, but I didn't get to employ my usual method of letting her clean it up herself because Deb was up and awake and heard the moist hork and splatting noise. Thanks, Kate. I might as well have just poured your breakfast from the bowl onto the floor.

Well, it's a beautiful day, and I don't have to go to work. I'll go for a nice stroll around the 'hood with my baby now. Maybe I'll run across something that I can mock in here later.