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do not call yearbooks and alarms
I use my cell as an alarm because the plug in one doesn't work and it's easier to hit snooze 5 times when it's curled in the palm of your hand. No, I ain't a morning person. Today and yesterday the damn thing didn't go off and I had to scurry out with a quick brush of the teeth to the sawmill. The decor is looking really nifty up in there since the painters have done their thing. The new cath lab is almost ready and soon there won't be any hot construction butts guys to chat with. What a shame. Got a raise though. It wasn't much, but my boss makes it seem like a lot more.

My friend JR came out this afternoon to peruse the yearbook and decide if he wants to brave our 35 year reunion. Like half of America, he's still undecided. Obama's people called the house phone right after that asking for a contribution. I guess they don't read this blog, huh? I figure my vote might be worth a hundred bucks in this election. Hypothetically speaking, of course.

It's past my birthday and it's still hot as hades on Pecan Lane. What's up with that??? I was the official secretary at work today so I got to hear the TV in one ear while I was poking folks with needles. Or course, the memorial was a day long event and it reminded me of that day seven years ago when our comfy little world went to hell in a handbasket. It's one of those moments like when JFK got shot that you can always tell where you were and what you were doing in graphic detail. Oh, and props to Mahala for the title :)

Ya'll hang in there. Friday's coming. ^j^
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