Mood: Meh.
Music: Pink, Don't Let Me Get Me
Mind: Meh. :)

Well, 8 days to go. I do believe that my first task upon return to Memphis will be getting this page back to its original intent. This is MY home on the web, and I'm incredibly protective of it. There was a time when I could write whatever I darn well pleased, because, well, that was my prerogative.

Mom's bought some ... protein shake or something ... off of television. It's called Pentabosol. Linkage here. She thinks she's saving money by paying $139.95 for three months instead of $79.95 for one month.

Now, if I were nice, I'd send her to this review of Pentabosol.

She says that it couldn't be any worse than the chemicals that Paul and I put into our body. This, of course, ignores a few vital facts: (1.) We do not cook meat, so our meat consumption is near nothing. (2.) I prefer organic foods and natural breads, which she'd know if she'd look in my pantry. (Personal favorites are: Annie's organic products, Fantastic Foods, Brother Juniper's breads [which help out a Very Worthy cause], and soy dairy substitutes by WestSoy and Hain [owned by the same company.)

Everything medication I take has been prescribed by a medical doctor. I take two pills for treatment of Generalized Anxiety Disorder and Clinical Depression. She actually prefers that I be on those chemicals. When I'm on them, we get along. When I'm off them (like today), she "can't talk to me," because I don't put up with her. She once said that, while I was on the Zoloft, Dad commented he had his "little girl" back. Those are chemicals I prefer not to take because they make my mind slow down. I can't think on my toes. That Edge is gone. But I'm pressured to take them because they like me better when I'm on them. It's crazy mad fun around here, I tell ya.

I'm off to drink about half a bottle of Pepto Bismol, in hopes that its chemicals will keep me from becoming physically ill.

Be good. And and and stick a 3-cent stamp on your reply card if you haven't sent it back yet. Now that postage has gone up, the ball is out of my court. The 180 people who haven't sent me back a card are going to get an angry call from one of my bridesmaids. So meh.

Happy Monday.