I hear tell of these things called "holidays"

that happen in other places, when people actually get the day off work. I know not of these things. This is the South. We call Presidents' Day "Monday." Suck it up and get to work.

I had dinner last night with the chick who took my old job, we have bonded in that way that shared nightmare experiences can create a bond and swap email and get together for drinks or dinner now and then. Someday I may be authorized to tell stories. But not yet. Too bad, because she is a hilarious storyteller and every time we talk we leave each other feeling vindicated - it's NOT US! They really are that fucked up!!! Of course we were pretty sure it wasn't us since we have been around the legal block a few times enough to know better okay, so we're old legal hags, and have never seen anything like that place, but still, it makes us both feel better to marvel over it with someone who sees the insanity. I have no regrets about leaving. Soon, she may be able to say the same.

Hark! The UPS Truck! Girlchild's "Boyfriend" is nigh!

Girl ordered textbooks, etc., via UPS this year, so Mr. UPS Man was a regular visitor. He started striking up a conversation with her and she joked that they were bonding. We started calling him her boyfriend. So the other night she wasn't home when he came by, and instead of the super-service, sign here, knock on the door and chit-chat, He dropped my package on the mat and hustled back to his truck. I had to call her and give her a hard time about it - if she's not here our UPS service deteriorates sharply. I called her cellphone when I heard the truck, just to yank her chain a bit, and said I expected the package to hit the front door as he flings it while driving by.

I finished another Dulaan hat, and I'm at the upper body shaping on the pullover. It's February and already getting too hot to knit. Maybe I really should be considering a new hobby.