The day is shaping up to be pleasantly sunny, a little warm, and ultimately quite boring. We’re heading over to Mom’s after we find something for lunch. Eddie’s scratching Pickle’s tummy, and I’m debating about whether or not to make one of these too cute amigurumi kittens for myself. Seriously. Can you feel the cuteness, people?!

Feel free to squee. I won’t mind.

I’m this close to being done with the first afghan. I miscounted yesterday, and instead of having 3.5 panels to do, I actually had 4.5, but I did a bunch today and there’s only 2 rows left, so with any luck it should be done tomorrow night. Tomorrow when I pick up Eddie I’ll snag one last skein of the gorgeous verigated red I picked up yesterday so I can get going on the other afghan.

Mom cooked lasagna tonight. She makes the best. I told Eddie that he had to get out of the kitchen because she didn’t want him finding out the secret family recipe. He stoof in there and helped, then came out, waved the empty box in my face, and said “Some secret recipe! It’s printed on the back of every box!” After dinner we had Mom’s homemade ice cream cake, which was pretty good. There was much football and many hot wings (which I didn’t eat, because my stomach freaked out over a grilled cheese sandwich earlier), and a decent time was had by all.

It’s back to school for me tomorrow. I honestly don’t know how I managed to spend the entire summer doing absolutely nothing every single day, because at this point I can’t see myself not being in class in the morning. Plus, I completely forgot how much I enjoyed school and learning new shit. I don’t think we’ll be going over to Mom’s, I’ll just pick up Eddie at work and we’ll go home. I’ve got studying to do for my Dosage II final on Tuesday, and since I’ll probably be getting out early after the exam, I’ll come home, shoot the shit here for a little while and then go down to Mom’s to take them out to Garden City and the Post Office.

Tonight though, there will be sleep.

Eddies picking through some of the crap in the spare room; eventually we’re going to move one of my old desks in there for my sewing machine and other monkey-fixins.

Plans for today? Haircut, prescription refill, and dropping the monkeys off for the guys at the tattoo shop. Then we’ll be home for a few hours, eat some dinner, and head to a friend’s house for some drinking and general goofing off.

Eddie’s working until noon today, which is great because he’ll be home early and not be doing a nearly 12 hours shift, and because we’ve got to go to a grad dinner tonight. We’ll probably stop and grab a card on the way down there.

Tomorrow, since Mom and Eddie both have the day off, we’ll be celebrating the 4th over at Mom’s house with a cookout and some pool festivities, providing that the weather is decent. My sister will be there as well, so I’ll be making her a sock dog today as a belated birthday present (she was in Florida for her birthday and so didn’t get a present then).

I guess I shouldd start that dog, eh? Eddie will be home soon, and he’ll want to nap, and I don’t want to run the sewing machine while he’s trying to sleep.

Time for some more no-thought blogging, or as I like to call it, insta-blog.

Saturday Slant: This Slant can be glibly answered with a trite response about a phobia or dislike (e.g. “I don’t like to talk about about spiders or politics”), but I entreat you to search your soul. Tell your readers about one topic that makes you uncomfortable to discuss—and why it makes you uncomfortable. Open your ID and tell a fear or pain; open your heart and trust your readers.

If, in blogging your Slant, there isn’t a lump in your throat the whole time, you aren’t being honest enough with yourself.

I don’t particularly like to talk about the fact that a lot of times I equate any kind of affection/intimacy/sex with love. If I don’t feel like I’m getting enough of either, I start to believe that there’s something wrong with me, and that perhaps I’m untouchable or unloveable. I know that I’m liked or loved, but I just don’t feel like I am, if that makes any sense at all. I don’t like to talk about it because then I feel like I’m putting folks on the spot and forcing them to be more affectionate than they really are or would want to be in order to spare my feelings. So in order to allow them to not feel bad that I’m feeling bad, I don’t let them know exactly how bad I feel in the first place.