Crap.
I have nothing to write about. I could tell you about the new wines my folks told me about that under $8 but that might bore you. I could tell you about my indulgent behaviour over the weekend, how I went to the Bytown to see a movie and then sat there when it was over and decided to stick around for the second feature, but that probably doesn't excite you (Tolstoy though man, pretty interesting cat). I could write about going to the canal on Saturday with Grace and a BOY, and Gracie being so pissed that she wasn't as good a skater as said BOY that I could see the steam coming out of her ears. And then tell you about the dinner with the BOY, by candlelight (is there any other way to eat chicken nuggets?) I could relay to you the divine conditions at the ski hill on Sunday that my hubbie and I enjoyed after we dropped the kids off for their lessons, but you don't want to hear how wonderful that one hour was, of not being hunched over a child, guiding them down the hill at a snails pace, and instead bombing and turning and feeling the mountain (now THAT was a long sentence). And you likely don't want to read about the trip to the canal today that I suspect was motivated by a chance meeting with a Beavertail (haha, nope, we were there purely for the fresh air and excercise).

Instead dear reader, I'm going to leave you with this, and let you decide if I'm the luckiest lady in the world or did something really, really tacky in a previous life.....