Once upon a time, I changed my site design monthly—the current is just about two years old. The thought of going through the creative process, spending hours in HTML, and finding that one style in my CSS that still looks wonky with the new color scheme seems daunting. Designing was my late night activity, and I loved the high that it gave me.

I used to be a quilter, and recently acquired one that I had a hand in making for my grandmother in 1999. I would gladly spend an entire day cutting squares and patching them together. I had my stint in baking—from scratch—but as Nick so woefully points out, those days are over too.

I used to be a true child of the Internet age and have all of the instant messaging programs and post regularly on forums. Now? I use a computer for work and school. I am computered out for play.

I found myself wondering at my current phase of interest. What do I do to unwind? Honestly, I slump on the couch to a CSI rerun and let my brain turn off. Wow. Go me.

I'm tired, folks. The last week of my first session with school begins tomorrow, and I have scheduled a day off from work to tackle my final projects. Next weekend, we are going to Minnesota with Nick's parents to catch the Badger game and the week after that is Thanksgiving already.

Sophie is a constant source of joy when she's not being a booger, and I am so happy that we wound up with a lap cat after all. I had my doubts. She seemed like the standoffish sort...but I suppose that if you were brought up with your mother teaching you that humans were scary-bad, and then you were discarded at some farmer's barn, and then taken to a foster home where you were quickly given away to people who took you home only to take you to the vet to be "altered"...well, I guess I would have been standoffish too.

We went to the Badger game yesterday, the last home game of the season. It was a chilly day, and my car said it was 28° as we pulled out of the driveway. I was dressed in two pairs of long underwear, a long sleeved tee shirt, and a sweatshirt beneath my winter jacket. We were back in the car eight hours later after one of the most satisfying games I have ever watched.

My father wants me to go over to Grandma's condo at 10:00 this morning. She has decided to stay in assisted living, so they are clearing out her condo and he wants me to walk through and take anything that I might want. I don't want to. It feels wrong. She's just down the street. I do not want to take her things as if she is no longer around. It has been a sad situation from the start—Grandma simply gave up. There was no reason that she couldn't regain her strength and live independently again except that she didn't want to. So, grudgingly, I will drive over in a few hours.

I was not in the mood to watch ESPN with Nick after an entire day engrossed in live football, so I traipsed upstairs to look at the movies that I had saved from the old collection. I couldn't. Sound of Music choked me up, The Love Letter had my lower lip quivering. I stroked The Magic of Ordinary Days and remembered watching it on television with Mom, and her immediate desire to own such a lovely movie. I have been thinking for awhile that I need to get my copies of the Anne movies back from my cousin, but who knows if I'll ever be able to watch them again. These movies that I loved, I loved them because I had someone to share them with.

Well, coffee is done and I have an assignment to complete before I head over to to condo. If this post reads anything as scattered as my own mind is these days, good luck making sense of it all.