I can hear this week, no thanks to my high dosage of Prednisone, which is generally acknowledged to make one hungry and puffy. Kate investigated and informed me, in horror, I could gain as much as 5 pounds in two days on the nasty little demons. I can guarantee that�s true, even watching what I�m eating. Clothes are fitting weird again. It must be doing very odd and insolent things to my metabolism. Frankly, I�m wondering if the headaches, ringing and deafness weren�t more acceptable.

Okay, no, but this had bloody well better not be a long-term solution. It's seeming like it is.

Also? The world is going to hell, but I ordered my free MoveOn.org bumper sticker, and I started the day with an e-mail from John Kerry. I�m trying to fit in some caring about the world with the medical concerns.

Speaking of which, Pops rang yesterday to announce the birth date of his twin kidney stones and the investigation for other mysteries in that region, and it�s the day I�m being whisked down to The South, because I�m a high-powered publishing professional. Rock. I�m sure he�ll be okay. He�s off on the road, sleeping on an air mattress for two months the following week, so he won�t have much of a choice.

And then he rang today to ask me to come home at some point this weekend and bake him a rhubarb pie, since Mother is refusing to make a sugar-free one for him. Not that he can�t do it himself, but he�s driving folks to Indy for the race and won�t be home too much. So like a good kid, I�ll haul out the dilapidated little silver wonder and head over to bake for him. Don�t tell him, but I�m using some whole wheat flour in the pie crust, too.

Life�s busy. And weird. But ewenorker and I shall have a lovely time in Chicago next week, in spite of both of us being there on business. I�m still scrambling for an invitation to meet famous poet and his famous musician daughter, thinking I�m gonna have to have him place a few calls. That would ensure a magnificent time for us, I think, even if my fantastic new TJ Maxx skirt won�t fit by then.

So there we are. Off to make excuses to the night job, to hit the PO, and to meet a pleasant-sounding fellow.

Oh bugger. And that nasty neck sunburn I got on Saturday? Just now deciding to start peeling, thus making a lovely layer of pseudo-dandruff on the back of my shirt. Sigh.

That�s more like my life.