I Feel Like Such An Idiot

The Palm Pilot Incident (or PPI as we call it) has come to an embarassing close. The day it disappeared, I played Scrabble with my neighbor. As we all know, one thing is easier to carry home from the neighbor's than two, so Palmie, as it is affectionately known, went in the Scrabble box. Y'know sometimes when you put something somewhere, you think, "Don't put that there, you won't remember it."? Weeeellll, there you go. We were putting things away when we got home from the marriage retreat and John thought the Scrabble game felt too fat. Opened 'er up and lo and behold, Palmie, safe and sound. I also got "the look". I earned it, believe me.

We had a fun time at the retreat. John was loving the fact that we were in a wonderful resort hotel, and almost all the people there were people we knew. When does that ever happen?

Oh, and when you see Dave G., ask him about Hearts.