The dining room table, so long a cluttered mess, has finally been 90% cleared!  All that remains to be sorted are some papers and last month's mail.  (Oops!)

I'm creating a new fantasy world for an upcoming D&:D game, and I simply cannot decide for myself how many suns and moons there ought to be.  So I call upon you, the geek community, to help me answer these fundamental questions:  How many suns?  How many moons?  (For that matter, Is the world itself the moon of a larger world—say a gas giant?)

So yesterday the Protective Services people dropped by.  It's been established that due to my seizure disorder (read: epilepsy), I cannot be left alone with the children anymore.  It's a safety issue.

I completely understand, and the saner, logical part of me agrees.  But the emotional side feels...snubbed.  I've been unable to hold down a job for at least the past three years, and now you tell me I can't even be a parent on my own?  How am I supposed to feel about that, hmmm?  All sunshine and roses?

Life I said, I understand; it's a safety issue.  If I'm left all alone with the kids and I suddenly have a gran mal seizure, no four- or five-year-old, however acclimated to watching their daddy seize, is going to no what to do beyond, "Go get Mommy!"  Still, It's insulting to have to share parenting responsibility with someone else whom I don't even know.

So despite having woken on the wrong side of the bed, yesterday (a tricky feat in and of itself; Nene's side is up against a wall *g*), the adults in my life did indeed wish me a happy birthday.— Mom, Chris, Zombie J, & finally Nene herself with a grand gesture.  I thought she'd forgotten.  But no, in she swept with a dark chocolate-covered black-and-white cake and a basket full of tea & tea-related goodies.  I could not have been more touched. :_)

Happy birthday, Gaerfie!!  Happy birthday!

Nene & I were discussing what to do for Valentine's Day.  Neither of us is the sappy type, and chocolates & flowers are too traditional.  They've become so common they've lost their meaning.  However, St. Valentine's falls on a Sunday, this year.  This is significant.  You see, back when I was living on the bad old streets of Newburgh, I used to take Nene to this wonderful Italian café for coffee & biscotti.  It was our weekly Sunday ritual, and it was fun!  So assuming we can get Nene's car, Broom, fixed by then—or worst case, buy another one—my love & I will be back there, Sunday, Valentine's Day, drinking coffee and crunching biscotti. ♥♥♥

Poppy's girlfriend had her, or perhaps I ought to say "his," baby last night.  Guess what?  He forgot to call us and let us know of this joyous event, leaving my little Gnome to wonder out loud, "Daddy, when is Poppy gonna come and pick me up?"

I should clarify:  Every other weekend the Gnome spends with Poppy, his bio-dad.  This has been the arrangement for over two years, now.  Yesterday, Poppy's girlfriend gave birth to a bouncy baby boy.  (Aww.)  Now we knew that when the birth happens, the Gnome might not be picked up or could be dropped off eraly or some such.  Nene & I did, however, expect a call.  His excuse?  "My cell-phone died."  Ever hear of a courtesy phone, fuckhead?  Or how about having one of your relatives with a working cell-phone call us?  Oh and the best part?  we learned about this through Facebook.  That's right folks, Facebook.

..mitsuki_chi!  My Nene (momiji_neyuki) is so very happy!

The Gnome has lice.  Again.

Nene got a facebook message from Poppy saying that my son has lice.  I'm presuming that there was a note from school letting parents know about this.  Y'know the type.  "Someone in your son's/daughter's class has contracted lice.  Lice are are..." etc. etc.

Nene's angry at me for not checking his school folder—the one that goes back and forth as a means of communication between us ans his teacher.  Frankly, he & I were in Mom's car all evening, and it wouldn't have occurred to me to check his backpack at all, then.

So what am I to do?  I mean besides the anti-lice washing routine.  Nene blasted me by saying, "You give that man waaay/ to much ammunition."  Great.  So now it's my fault the kid has lice?

James Blakely as one of Ozma's chief advisors is head responsible for all matters concerning the Defense of Oz.  There is a party held one evening, when a strange sail is spotted on the horizon sailing up one of the Munchinland rivers.  Ozma insisted Blakely attend, but he response, whith the lst words he will ever say to her, "Affairs of State take precedence of a mere party, my Lady."  Blakely is exiled from Oz, and at some pointfinds his way to Neverland.  There the sprite Peter takes his right hand, making Captain James Blakely into Capt. Jas. Hook.