JiM's Dreams

Well, that's 13 episodes of "Miracles" watched, because I apparently needed another fandom and obsession. I'm so easy - give me a brooding Scot and I melt. Maybe it's a genetic issue.

On other fronts, I am coping with the concept that my parents are both increasingly frail. Hell, my friends' parents are increasingly frail. We're all hitting 40 and they're all hitting the wall. It's odd that someone who jokes that she was raised by wolves can feel the fear of being an orphan. I mean, are you allowed to be an orphan if you're an adult when your parents die?

I presume I don't even need to explain how freaky the idea that cells in my own body might go as haywire as Mom's and start proliferating out of control, in the wrong spots and with the wrong programming.

Apparently January is still January, even in the Golden West. You can take the girl out of New England but you can never take the SAD out of the girl. God, just hand over the antidepressants and no one gets hurt. Off to go do something useful to drag myself out of this, like scratch the cat or clean the dishwasher.