I got three anniversary cards in the mail today -- one from my sister, which I expected because she always sends cards for special occasions, one from my best friend, which wasn't expected, and one from my dad.
And I'll say that it's from my dad, not from my parents, because while most of the time Marty picks out a card from the both of them and signs both of their names, this one was signed (using both names) and addressed by Dad. I have a feeling Marty didn't even see it, and wouldn't care much if she did.
So now I take back my entire rant from my last entry.
Well, parts of it anyhow. Most of it is true regardless.
Ahem.
Anyhow....
How 'bout dem sniper shootings?? Scary, huh? Scarier when you realize I've been to that Home Depot. I have friends that live very close to there, and my father lives probably within twenty miles of that.
I wasn't worried at first because the sniper was in southern Maryland or in Fredericksburg, and where my dad lives split that area nicely. But now I'm going to be a little nervous until the cops catch up with the sniper. I'm not the type to follow a media spectacle like this very closely, but I'll at least pay more attention to where things are going on now and hope that Someone Up There is paying attention and will keep my loved ones safe.
One can hope.
I went over to my boss's house today because he wanted me to type up some stuff for him. He doesn't speak English too well, and he writes it even worse. So for about four hours I was his own personal secretary. He dictated, and I typed. He was flabbergasted by my typing speed, but ever since I saw the one and the only Miss Liad type faster than the speed of light, I think I'm like the tortoise in the story.
The ironic thing is, in the midst of these sniper shootings, he's working on an invention (he's a crazy old inventor, like Belle's father in Beauty and the Beast) regarding weaponry. So we spent the afternoon discussing bullets and cartridges and the like. *shudder* I don't like guns...
My puppy is now bald. We took him in to PetsMart to finally have him shaved. He was looking pretty bedraggled before we took him in. He was to have been bathed as well, but when I picked him up he didn't smell any cleaner, and all the gook that oozes out of his eyes is still all over his cheeks. It's hard to clean out because when we pull at the clumps, it pulls his cheek fur, and he squirms away. But now he's shorn, and he looks pretty funny. I can't help but laugh at him every time I go to pick him up because he's just SO funny looking. It's mean, I know. I can't help it!!!
The cashier wanted to know how old my dog was, and I think she was taking her own little survey regarding it because I heard her ask some other people too. But I just kind of looked at her blankly and said I didn't know. I think he's around seven years old because when we got him two and a half years ago the vet determined he was five years old at the time. When you get your pet from the SPCA, there's no knowing how old precisely your animal is.