For Whom the Bell Tolls

In the week since Whitney Houston's death, I've seen a lot of pearl-clutching over society's misplaced values. You know you've seen it too; you may even have been among those posting it on Facebook.  Many people have expressed the view that we shouldn't celebrate Whitney Houston's life or mourn her death because other, less well-known people have also recently died (and continue to do so every day--they are relentless!). These other people tend to have nobler jobs than Whitney, and they usually aren't addicts, which compounds the sense of injustice.

Rainy Sunday

Supper's in the Crock-Pot, cheesy shows are on TV, Mark and Charlotte are building with Legos*, and we're all in pajamas. Not too shabby.

*I know that Lego is an adjective, but I just can't. In my world, it's a noun.

The Evolution of Valentine's Day

In the last 24 hours, I have witnessed the three stages of Valentine's Day.  It was like being visited by Jacob Marley's ghost, only his chains were made of construction paper hearts (and he smelled kind of like Drakkar Noir).