(Because I continue to labor under the misapprehension that people wake up in the morning and ask themselves "what has kaffyr been doing with herself?")
I had a pleasant Thanksgiving Day dinner with some of our oldest friends in Chicago. Bob couldn't make it, because he was fighting some lung crap, but I went. It was good to see our friends, although the dinner lacked in formality. We did a buffet, and did something I normally abhor at holiday dinners,but which my friends look upon more kindly; watched television.
I did get to make merciless fun of Mick Jagger, see the last few minutes of a football game in which the New Orleans Saints beat Dallas, and heard my first Taylor Swift song. All were reasonably enjoyable (especially watching the Dallas loss. It's almost as much fun as watching the Yankees get beaten. America's Team, my Aunt Fannie ...)
I had a rather surprisingly productive Friday, although the long delayed plumbing study bid request I'd been avoiding completing for the condo association that I finally tackled (and the crowd goes WILD!) didn't get sent to the plumbing company. What professional company doesn't include an email on their web site, I ask you? Ah, well; I'll call tomorrow and get it sent then.
I also had a one-hour discussion by phone with my brother, who let me know that my mother and he hope to have her and my step-dad moved into an apartment by February, and her house sold by May. That should prove interesting, when they tell my step-dad. In January. (Long story, and not nearly as cold as it sounds.) So I won't be able to retreat to my mom's basement when the newspaper economy tanks. Heh.
We went over to Andy's place Saturday for a delayed Thanksgiving dinner with him and his girlfriend. Well, we actually went to his girlfriend's, but he lives there most of the time, and they invited us as a twosome.
It was quite a thing, to be invited by my son to "have dinner at our place." A first, frankly, and I'm both amused and bemused. They did a lovely job, and I successfully resisted hovering (just gave cooking and/or kitchen advice when asked for it. He's a fantastic cook, and just needed a couple of pointers to calm his "I'm hosting My Parents AAAAaaaaaa" nerves.)
And we learned that when the lease she and her roommates have is up, she and Andy are looking for a one bedroom place of their own. Yes, son, that's the way to let us know, she said to herself, a smile chasing across her face. Well, he had to start paying rent at one place or another, and it's high time his bedroom was turned into his parent's office.
(That, too, is not nearly as cold as it sounds. My beloved son, sometime Absalom and now learning to be a Joseph or a Jacob. And always, always my Andy.)
We came home to find a toasted DVD player. Poor old thing; it was eight years old and had given us exemplary service. So, when we have some money in the bank on Friday - or rather, if my check hasn't been eaten by overage charges and groceries by the end of the day - we'll head up to our Sally Ann of choice and find a decent second-hand one.
And today, Bob and I had the joy of a visit from gerisullivan . She put up with medical stories, we learned how her dad's been doing, talked about the foibles and wonders of fandom, had supper, talked family history and the joys of discovery therein ... it was very, very good. We don't get the chance to see her as often as we'd like, so an uninterrupted five hour visit was a true joy.
And I've put another 400-500 words into Chapter 14 of "Hearts and Moons," got some work done on the plot time line, and took some time to do a post here, for your delectation, before seeing if I can get another 500 or so words done before the day's official end. (I look at my output, and realize anew that I would suck at NaNoWriMo.)
Tomorrow, it's back to chasing suburban news. Wish me luck.