My computer is back and I could not be happier. I know there's a lot going on in the world, but . . . well, I'm glad it's back. If anyone reads this besides my husband, you should send me an email because my address book is gone.
SO, I've been coloring my hair since I was 16. If God had wanted me to keep my mousy dirty dishwater color, he wouldn't have invented Clairol. But He did and I do. This week I talked my hair stylist and aunt of my choosing (not my blood) Sharon (There's one aunt, in particular I would simply trade straight up and if you are my aunt and you have bothered to read this I guarantee it's not you, particularly if you remember where the Mississippi River is.) into dying it a variation on my own shade -- I think. (It's been a long time. I'm not sure what that shade is.) I'm into truth these days or a close proximity of it anyway.
Baby D and I have not nursed in a week. It's not going too badly. He's fine. I'm the one who needs to recover. My mood has gone from dark to black. Brent has packed a bag for me and it sits threateningly near the door. (Oh, not really.)
If I do take off, it will be to hunt down C's "social therapist." She's an odd little shadow of a woman who cannot make eye contact. Ironic, isn't it? Social therapist and all? I have discovered today that she has changed C's Individual Education Program (IEP) for the second time in two years without notifying us at all, much less the 14 days required by Minnesota state law. Honestly. She's the Social Therapist. Am I the only one who see that this is very, very wrong?
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