Slug city

Hi.  Long time no see, eh?  July ended, I got a new-to-me car, then I turned into a slug.  No running, no painting, no nothin'.

But on the bright side, remember the vomit kid from upstairs?  HE'S GONE!  Finally, finally, he's gone.  I have slept better in the past three nights than I have in the past three months.

What else.

...

Oh, the Ferndale airstrip is a heli-base again, but so far no big giant Sigourney Weaver helicopter.  One of the three helicopters down there is a 1964 something-or-other.  It's older than I am.  This year the crews are sleeping in pup tents on site; there have been lots of little fires in the Bob Marshall Wilderness, lots of lightning strikes.

I have been reading a series of terrible mystery novels since Saturday.  I'm on the third one now - it is brand spanking new.  In fact it might still be a pre-order on Amazon.  We know the woman who wrote the books, and bought them because our gallery is mentioned in the third book.  Knowing there were two prior books, I  HAD to read them all, in order.  And ... uh ... eek.  That's all I'm going to say.  Marilyn - if you somehow find my blog and read this, I'm sorry.

Today I'm going to try and overcome my sluggishness.  Is that a word?  I still haven't gotten my 10 mile run and, although THAT'S not going to happen today, I still hope to get it before I leave for vacation.

The end.