(eight fingers, eighth grade. Get it?)
Kira is out of town with the grandparents. She should be back today. Mitch's parents went to the cabin for their anniversary and Mitch sent Kira along with them. FUN! ROMANTIC! She starts school on Thursday.
I would be ecstatic about the beginning of the school year except that I'm dying of a cold. I don't know if you know this about me, but I get colds worse than anyone else, ever in the history of the world. Just ask Mitch, he'll tell you. Last night I couldn't function without a kleenex stuffed in my nose to stanch the unrelenting flow of snot. When I'm sick Mitch finds me utterly unbearable, yet oddly attractive. But mostly unbearable. He thinks the attraction comes from my weakened state. He especially likes laryngitis. Pervert.
My grandma is doing much better. Her breathing isn't as labored as it was a few days ago. She's still here in Duluth, but hopefully this week she will be able to be moved back to her town so she can be with her sisters and brother and all the rels up there. Keep your fingers crossed for her!
Happy September everybody! Hey! It's my birth month. I'll be forty this year. FORTY. I was reminded of this because I got a pamphlet in the mail the other day about scheduling my first mammogram! See, there are still some firsts in life! I wonder if I am supposed to take a picture of myself on the day of my first mammogram like I had pictures taken on my first day of school, smiling in my one-piece pant-suit, with my BJ and the Bear lunch box. No? People don't do that? Oh, okay. (But I might.)