So tonight, friends I'm blogging to you from my iPhone; on the tiniest, cutest little 3G bar you've ever seen. Just one lil' bar. It's adorable, really. So scrappy and ready to take on the world. Yet so very feeble.
I feel like this is what it must've been like for Laura Ingalls Wilder, when she blogged in the big woods of Wisconsin. Between Pa slaughtering the pig and making a little balloon out of its bladder (that happened) and Ma hanging the onions in the attic. You know? It's magical, in a way.
I have a bit of a fuzzy head today, if you couldn't tell that already. Its been a horrific allergy season here in Sydney, and I also awoke with a cold this morning. Jason was sick with it last week when he returned from the States. In the process of us exchanging demure, chaste kisses at the airport, I think I caught it from him. But what is one to do?
I took drugs and lots of vitamin C, and have felt like my head is floating 15 feet about the ground all day. (That's about 5 meters, Aussie friends.) And it doesn't help that Grace's newest thing is requesting something: a sandwich, to go to the park, to talk on the phone, and then repeating it endlessly until it's given to her.
Doesn't matter how we answer or reason with her. The same tone, the same inflection over and over AND OVER again. I am not kidding you, I ACTUALLY watched my hair grow half an inch while she was asking for juice infinity times today. I think she's messing with my head. That, combined with the decongestant, kinda made for a loopy day.
So now here I am, drifting from my one 3G bar, to E, and sometimes O. What is O?? Can anyone even hear me? Is this thing on? I'm gonna put this message into the bottle and hurl it into the void. I hope it finds you somewhere warm, safe, and with wifi as far as the eye can see. Good night. And good luck.
Sent from my iPhone