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Stress much? Yes. Muchly much. But I'm still writing. And crafting. And planning. And working. And more writing. And flirting. A lot of flirting. And then some more writing.

I love my sister. I want her home. Well, she IS home. I want her HERE. Fuck. This incident alone makes me think more kindly about Seattle. Moving there. Settling there. Because face it, she loves it there, and while I heart San Diego, and all my family, which I've realized is my entire life, is here in SoCal, The Leprecaun's up there. And she's my heart man. I couldn't love her more if I'd given birth to her.

*sigh*

Lord know's I'd be there now if I could afford it. Toting the little pocket-rocket between the bed and the bathroom basically. Finding my way down to the crumpet shop to bring her home groats in a thermos. I'd be handling it. Because this NOT handling it, just leaving it to her [very capable, loving, and awesome] friends is NOT doing it for me.

BTW, my grandma? She's awesome. She's so sick of sitting around and letting us do everything for her, she did my laundry. Because see, we've been doing her laundry, and I'm the only one with dirty laundry in my hamper. So she did my laundry because she NEEDED something to do. What's that about yo? But yeah, she got the biopsy back, she's cancer free. She'll prolly be on anti-cancer meds the rest of her life, and they'll have to keep a close watch on it all, but she's fine.

The boy? The copper? Recovering. Has to take it easy on the rib, but his arm is healing nicely. He'll have a scar, mainly because of ripping open his first set of stitches, but he's kinda proud of it. Oh yeah, they found the drunk as well. After the loser shot my boy, he took off, but my boy had already written down the license plate number on the ticket pad before he even got out of the car, and wouldn't you know the 'tard was driving his own car? So yeah, instead of getting popped for just drunk driving, I think they're charging him with attempted murder. The ADA took the vest from my boy to show where the shot hit, and hopefully, the drunk-driving freak goes away for a few years.

Side note: I need a nick-name for him. He's been leaving comments under the name Ocifer, because I call him that when I'm teasing him. I could just use that.

So. Boy's fine. Grandma's fine. Leprecaun, well, eventually. Say a quick word or two to whomever you pray to for my Leprecaun, will you?