facebook

I'm not sure why, but I have a Facebook page. It's just the thing to do these days. I have MySpace too, only because Tom Hanks does, and what's good enough for Tom is good enough for me. Besides, we share a birthday, which is cool. Much cooler than another of our birthday twins... OJ Simpson. PeeeeUuuuuu. Anyway, Lauren, my very hip daughter, has told me that MySpace is no good. Facebook is the place to be. So I'm only working on that page right now. Maybe it's good advertising for my bead biz and for the HOPE Bracelet Project. And maybe it's just some good silly fun. Nothing wrong with that.

I've spent too long messing with it this morning. I can't seem to get myself off the couch. Literally. My body hurts, and, well, it's because of another Katy George Incident. Katy, as I've mentioned before, is a fabulous clothing and hat designer, and she also delivers flowers all over town every Thursday. With our personal downsizing of darn near everything, this week was the last "Katy Day" for a while. This makes me sad, because when I can't afford flowers, Katy can't afford something else. I tried to make her feel better by telling her she was the last thing we cut out. Even vodka was cut out before Katy was. That says a lot.

So there we were, hugging good-bye in the driveway. No hard feelings. We are friends. Katy got in her car and backed up to turn around, but went a little too far, and sunk into the deep snow. Rick wasn't home to help, so I went for a shovel and some boards. We dug and I pushed, and pushed, and pushed. More digging, more pushing, and on like that for a good twenty minutes. Cars are heavier than they look. When she finally got going, I was totally exhausted. Today is the Second Day After, and now I'm in serious pain. My whole body hurts, and I might just stay on this couch, dinking with Facebook, all day long. I'm not at all sure I can get up. Katy! If you read this, no hard feelings! Honest! I think it's pretty funny that when we get together, we live big and loud, and someone is likely to get hurt. Like the River Incident, it always makes a good story! We are not wimps.