Sigh.

What can I say? I think about all sorts of things to blog about when I'm otherwise occupied, then I sit down at the keyboard and can't remember a damn thing.

It's warm here again - back in the 70s. Most lawns are straw, my hibiscus are so sad I can't bear to look at them, ditto the bougainvilla.

I am not dreading Monday this week - this is the first employer I've ever had that gives MLK Jr. Day as a holiday. This is the south and a right to work state; employers resent having to give federal holidays (or sick days or insurance or....), and, ahem, this particular one hasn't really caught on in the private sector. Government offices get it, of course, and banks, etc., but in the majority of private employers it is ignored. Anyway, I work for a big employer with really good benefits and have tomorrow off, and it's my daughter's regular day off. My daughter and I are going to go to Winter Park to Do Lunch and window shop along chi-chi-poo-poo Park Avenue, which is sort of Rodeo Drive for locals. Neither of us has bothered to visit that area for years, because you have to be in a rare frame of mind to want to indulge in a $17 hamburger, but it's fun every, oh, decade or so. We were going to go today, but in a moment of lucidity I realized that our destination will be a lot less crowded tomorrow (see paragraph above about how most employers don't consider this a holiday). We'll be the ones in jeans getting dirty looks from the doctors' wives in Lily Pulitzer.

This lunch date came about after we talked for a long time the other night and realized that we talk just about every day and live about 4 miles apart but never see each other, and not because our lives are full of other exciting social engagements. So we decided to set some "mother daughter dates" for otherwise boring Sunday afternoons - at least once a month would be good, twice would be better - to do some things we TALK about doing but never get around to in real life. She mentioned the Science Center, and I'd love to go to a theater matinee, etc. The weather is perfect for sidewalk cafe and window shopping, so that is the first "date" on our calendar.

I actually have two three day weekends in a row, though one requires burning a vacation day. Next weekend Boy is driving down to collect the furniture I am contributing to the baby's room and their living room. The countdown has begun - it's just about Seven Weeks to Baby. I've been doing my part - I can't pass a sale on baby clothes without stopping. All is still well on that front.

Murphy is doing fine - occasional symptoms of his condition, but happy and spunky and holding his weight, so he's good.

My adventures in brewing kombucha have been wildly successful, so much so that my scoby needs to be split. I really don't want to brew two batches at once because that's more kombucha than I need, but it really is a gorgeously healthy scoby and I hate to waste it. I need to research alternative uses for the "babies" or start farming them out on friends like Amish Friendship Bread. Sigh.