I debated writing today. I feel kind of silly writing about what happened two years ago for about the millionth time. I still cried when I saw the services at the different crash sites this morning and put on my waterproof mascara today for that very reason. I still don't watch much of the coverage, and I still don't think we've changed enough from this. But I've said all that before, and there's no real reason to go into it again.

Yet I don't feel right not writing about something relevant when this is the anniversary. But I didn't lose anyone. I don't live in New York, and though I do live fairly close to where Flight 93 went down, I didn't have anything to do with it. And, thank God, I didn't know anyone at the Pentagon, which could have been a very real possiblity, since John served in the Air Force. So I'm no more connected than several million other Americans.

Every now and then, I thank God that the people on Flight 93 managed to stop what happened in a field in Pennsylvania. That plane flew almost right over the city of Pittsburgh, and had the terrorists gotten wind of the passengers' plan to take them out, they could have very well went for the nearest target. My husband works in, not the tallest, but one of the most recognizable buildings in the city. If you watch Pirates baseball at all, you've seen it a million times--the building that looks like it has a pencil sticking out of the top, or as I like to say, looks like a hypodermic needle. The buildings downtown weren't evacuated until well after all those terrible events occured. I remember being on the phone with John that morning, begging him to come home, and how he told me I was silly to be so worried. Later, we came to find out, there was a plane flying over us. I don't worry over what could-have-been. I've never even shared that story with anyone I know, because I didn't feel it right to vy for attention when nothing happened. I debated sharing it now, but I guess it's just my way of saying thank you to the people in that plane. They saved a lot of lives that day, whether the lives in our city or in Washington D.C.

On a lighter note, I feel good today after several days of being in the dumps. I got dressed in something decent in the afternoon yesterday and put some makeup on. Today, I did it in the morning, and I cleaned my kitchen sink and have the crusty dishes soaking so they can be washed. I don't feel like a worthless failure anymore. That always makes for a more productive me, so I see myself getting quite a bit done today.