Pragmatist
Pragmatist

Almost midnight. I thought about writing earlier, but I got distracted. With what? I don't remember.  Then I started watching TV at 2000 hrs on PBS, and then padiddled around until I finally got to the subject of DD.

I've been enjoying the stories of Brother Cadfael, and discovered a couple other programs equally enjoyable, but of a different bent.  The Vicar of Dibley is a woman, Church of England priest. An amusing show. And the other one is A Fine Romance with Dame somebody-or-other. If I could think of her name, you'd say "Oh, yes, fine actress."  It's late and my brain has gone to sleep without me.

The storm didn't hit until late this afternoon. I hadn't planned on going to shul because I thought the storm would hit sometime during the night or early morning, and I wasn't going to try walking in rain and wind to anywhere.  Just as well I stayed home, as I would have missed a visit from My Baby. Her eyebrows and eyelashes are beginning to darken a bit, but she'll be wanting some pencil and mascara eventually. And her hair is definitely red.  Oh, and she cries real tears. She's 15 pounds now, and her neck has disappeared into her double chin. Papa had to take her home earlier than he intended because she was making a her hunger known loud and clear.  But for awhile we had a nice chat.



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