Thursday, February 04, 2016

You don't know fear

You don't know fear until your youngest child calls and tells you she's been in a wreck with your grandson in the back seat.  She's incredibly upset.  Some high school chick ran a stop sign, and my youngest clipped the chick's back tire while the entire left side of her bumper/lights/fender are fucking toast.
The Baby Chicken had to go to the ER.  Her shoulder and collarbone are separated.  She has her wing in a sling.
Little Man is fine, thank God.  He was, however, quite put out that when BC called the police, he had to stay in his car seat.  Which, thank you God again, was on the OTHER side of the car.
So my adrenals hit overdrive early, and I'm dragging ass right now.
Went to boy child's daycare and took pictures of BC's car.  Contacted the other insurance agency to make a claim.  Hoping this is handled fairly expediently.
*deep breath*

So glad tomorrow is Friday, and there's a weekend on my horizon where I know that MC will be staying with BC and helping with Little Man.  I'll be able to sleep in.  So on and so forth.  It seems lately that every day is fraught with all sorts of hectic.  I'm ready to slow down a bit.  Watch some Thunder basketball.  THUNDER UP!!!  Edit my second book and work on some writing.
And let's hope, unlike the past two weekends, that I actually feel like I've had one, shall we?
Because that would be oh-so-new-and-different.
piffle

Totally random.

I like to cook.  I mean...I LIKE it.  And I absolutely love the Pioneer Woman's cookbooks.  The recipes, pictures, and little comments are great.  I currently have her Dinnertime book on my desk.  I shall drool over the pictures and convince myself I'm capable of making at least a couple of dishes.
But let me tell you something.  When I'm a little better off, I'm hiring a cook.  It's just going to happen.  I don't mind laundry and vacuuming and dusting, but by GOD!!!  I need someone to slave in my kitchen and make me delicacies.
From her books.
That is all.
Grins*

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