It only took me fifteen months to get around to taking down 2003's "temporary Valentine's Day design."It's installed, with a photo that might, or might not, be temporary. (Never again shall I be more specific than that when it comes to designs on this site!) Behold the thickness of my Librarian Chic Glasses … which I hardly ever wear out in public. (Tree reflections in glasses are courtesy of Brian & Suzan's backyard.)

This weekend I was teased, and rightfully so, about the similarity between knitting and software design. There was, as Brian explained, a vast gulf of difference between something that was 'done' and something that was truly finished and out the door. In software design, 'done' means you've finished coding, and 'finished' means you've done everything that comes after: debugging and testing. In knitting, 'done' means you've finished the knitting, and 'finished' means you have completed all cleanup details, like weaving in your ends and attaching trim.

So here's your update, or your scorecard, or whatever.

I have pneumonia. Jeff has bronchitis. The hacking and wheezing is a sight to behold, but the good news is that nobody's going to the hospital—hooray! My white cell count has dropped from 18,000 to 15,000, which still isn't good, but it's an improvement and indicates I'm responding to antibiotics. Jeff's currently stands at 16,000. (Normal? 4,500-10,000 per microliter)

We are sad and pathetic, but we are sad and pathetic together, and that's what counts.

"In the months since Dad died, I've found myself wishing that my friends, here in this sparkly new life, had some kind of honest understanding of all the years that came before I moved here. I didn't come to Huntsville to try to fit in, and I cheerfully plan to never do so. I came here with plans to make a small piece of this town my own; to find people I could relate to; to start over if I had to; to figure out what I was supposed to do with my life."

"This part always makes me panic, when I realize the sound's terrible and the film quality's bad, and I have to remind myself that these are just the commercials and the trailers, and that the quality of the actual movie will be much better." The darkened theatre swallowed most of my smile and nod, so I added a quick verbal acknowledgement.

I knew it as I dressed this morning: a telltale, blurry line of pale on paler. It was a demarcation of freckles next to the barest whisper of what could only be described as a suntan. It's not much, mind you; a 'tan' on a strawberry blonde can only be described as the barest blush of color on cream, but it is there, nevertheless.

This afternoon I came home with a sunburn, my skin smelling faintly of chlorine underneath the sunscreen tang.

You see, there's cute, and then there's a six-year-old learning to swim while wearing a shark mask and fins.