Yes I am exhausted. Thank you very much for asking. We had a wonderful family dinner over at Jeep and Pan’s tonight and we were all hanging around solving the problems of the world and just as we got onto reminiscing about the old ferry boats that used to schlep us all back and forth across the Straits of Mackinac, I started feeling like I couldn’t stand up any more and if I sat down, I would probably zone out.

It has been a productive week up here but there’s still a lot of stuff to do and we’ll be heading back down to the Inferno Ann Arbor tomorrow with the Trashmobile loaded up to the gills. And oh my god, I am back at the moomincabin now and the Grinchie is here having a little nightcap and he and the GG are rehashing politics and the mortgage greed meltdown and war in the middle east and what happened to Anastasia (I mean the czar’s daughter, not my cousin’s daughter, who is alive and well and has recently received her first driver’s license) and subdural hematomas and all of it all of it all of it all of it is too complicated for my little pea-brain even on a good day. Right now? I want to strangle somebody. [Just kidding, you guys.] Well, I do want to strangle the GG every time he asks me if I’m writing my blahg. Because what the heck else does he think I am doing sitting here at this time of night with my computer? But I won’t. Because somebody has to drive the Trashmobile tomorrow and it ain’t gonna be me. (Fortunately, the Grinchie — who has known me ever since I was born — is mitigating this situation a bit. In typical Grinchie style <grin>.)

All the while he (I mean the GG) seems to be totally oblivious to the fact that his own daughter has been texting us both for the last half hour or so. Which means, oh well, I won’t say what it means. Actually it’s pretty dern funny. Okay, I will quit babbling for tonight. Oh, flying on 9/11? Hokay…

Good night,
KW

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