I NEVER go out.

But yesterday I actually had plans to go up to my oldest friend’s place and watch James Bond movies and drink martinis.  Then, my very pregnant sister decided she was having Real Contractions.  I’m living with them at the moment and am “on call” to do stuff for her and watch their kid while they focus on birthing the new one.  I cancelled my plans and stuck around their place and made soup for dinner (I am not a soup person unless it’s chowder or chicken noodle or pureed — ok, maybe I do like soup, just not tomato-based soups).  And our older sister came over, ready to take care of the nephew with me and have a slumber party, but then it became very obvious that she wasn’t going to be birthing the baby that night.

She still hasn’t.  And I can’t help but be amused that I could have gotten sloppy drunk on martinis last night while viewing a Bond Marathon, but instead I made minestrone and danced around in my sister’s kitchen.

Haven’t gotten any writing done either, but that’s slightly neither here nor there.  What is prevalent is that it’s fucking cold in Boston at the moment and I actually sort of miss Tucson (no one should miss Tucson… unless, like me, there’s someone there worth missing or if you, also like me, prefer hot sun to clouds and freezing rain).

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