Just checking in -

Not much to blog about today.

It's the 15th, so I paid my bills online and moved the papers from the to-be-paid drawer on the left side of my desk to the paid-and-to-be-filed drawer on the right side. Filing will take place at on some undecided-upon date in the distant future. My mom is probably shuddering as she reads this.

I had Drew shred all the junk mail that had my name and address on it (accumulating in the bottom right to-be-shredded drawer of my desk) this evening. The catcher overflowed with tiny bits of paper and exploded all over the family room. I guess I'll vacuum that mess up tomorrow. Or maybe leave it. It is a little bit cheerful. Like someone just got married and dumped confetti on my carpet. My sister is probably shuddering as she reads this. Her vacuum would have sucked that paper up before it even hit the floor.

I miss Clint. He usually comes home late because he is nocturnal like an owl, so it's around this time (1 am) that I am subconsciously listening for his truck to turn onto our road and bounce up the driveway. He sits in his truck listening to the song that's playing until it ends or he gets bored with it before coming into the house. And when he does come in, he says "hey". Sigh. I need a life. Or an international student who says hey every once in awhile.

Curves left a voice mail message telling me that they miss me. How embarassing.

The cute white Escape that I test drove last Friday sold to someone else on Saturday. The advice I received on Friday afternoon was, "we are in an economic crisis. No one is buying cars - this one will still be around in 2 weeks and you will get it for thousands less. If you go online, I bet there will be 300 of these available. You do not buy the first one you drive. Do some homework." And I know in my heart that I can't buy a car the way I buy clothes or couches. (Which is, I have 10 minutes to shop... I like this. I'm going to buy it.) But when I looked online, I only saw 6 Escapes in the color and year and style I wanted. Not 300. And the price was the same as at the lot. And really? Friday was the day I set aside to buy a vehicle. Who knows when I'll be able to find the time and energy and courage to go to a car lot again?

I'm a teensy bit worried about that interview with my boss's publisher next Saturday. I feel like I should be preparing for it but I don't know what that means. He's not expecting me to bring a book proposal which is good, because I don't have one.

Have I mentioned that my cousin's son has asked me to be the photographer at his wedding? THAT is funny. And scarey. And I said no, please hire a professional. This day is too important to have an amateur like me take 10,000 photos in the hopes that I get 1/2 dozen good ones. But they wouldn't take no for an answer. I'm going to see if Clint wants to do it. He has better equipment and an edgier eye.

Speaking of pictures, know what? I got 215 4x6 prints developed yesterday at London Drugs (time to update my albums with pics from July and August) and there was a note on the bulging envelope from the technician; "Very nice." Wow. How needy am I? Because those two words? Totally made my day.

My mom took my dad to see the heart specialist last week. He said, "Pete, I can't make your heart beat like a 16 year old anymore." And then he said to my mom, "From his (lack of) facial expressions, his shaking hands, his stiff neck and his slow, stooped shuffle-walk - it looks like he has Parkinsons." So of course, Julie and Mandi googled Parkinsons, and like every diagnosis before this, we can make the symptoms match the disease. Dad never complains, and when asked he always, ALWAYS says he's "good". Although, he did tell Dr. Friesen that he's bored. And he's boring... he has no stories to tell and nothing to do. "If you could do anything you wanted, Pete, what would you do?" Dr. Friesen asked. "I'd like to go back to work," my dad said.

Three things I'm thankful for:

1. That mom is able to provide loving gentle care for my dad.
2. That I am not bored.
3. That when I'm feeling helpless to help others, I can pray.

Shalom,