I always feel the urge to start every entry with "So," as in, "So, I always feel..." It makes me crazy. I know I do it in my everyday speaking too, and I probably drive people insane, but I don't realize I've done it until it's past. I wonder if I should ban the word from my vocabulary for a while, except that I wouldn't be able to use it in the middle of a sentence if I did that, and using it there is completely OK. It's not entirely wrong to be at the beginning of a sentence either, but it is entirely wrong to use it all the damn time. I'll just have to try to be more aware of it, and stop using it in my writing is a good start.

You have no idea how hard it is not to start the next paragraph with "So."

John and I went to our dinner last night, and we had a good time. For the second year in a row, we won the centerpiece at the table, which is always a plant. Winning the centerpiece is not necessarily a good thing though, as it means we were the first ones at the table to go out of the drawing. I suppose it's better than nothing, except that I gave the plant to John's aunt and uncle, because they both really wanted it, and I knew it would die within the month if I tried to take it home. That's what happened to last year's plant. And now I have the stupid plant holder cluttering up the top of my dishwasher for the past year. We were told to put sand in it and then fill it will some water to make a butterfly bath, which I think is another way of saying butterfly watering hold, because I've never seen a butterfly bathe. But I'm not going to find any sand, and I'm certainly not getting another houseplant to kill. I don't have room for houseplants anyway. John's aunt and uncle were quite happy to have the plant, so I'm glad I gave it away.

John's dad didn't show up last night, even though he's one of the main organizers of the event. He "had the flu" was the official statement, but I later found out he just couldn't face the family and felt like everyone would be glaring and scowling in his direction all night long, which is entirely untrue. Part of the family didn't even know anything was wrong until last night, so he would have only received half the glares and scowls he expected. Really though, he wouldn't have received any, but his depression doesn't see it that way. The man needs to get himself some medication, but I don't see that happening. It's not like I should talk, being one to refuse medication for depression, but it's easier to see from the outside, and his need is like a beacon.

My mother-in-law seemed to have a reasonably good time, aided by a few glasses of wine. There seemed to be a fog of sadness around her though, and I felt very bad for her.

While we were there, Hammy got to stay home by himself, which had me a little on edge all night. I think the place is only about one mile from our house, but it didn't keep me from worrying. Of course, he thought it was grand to be home alone to play computer games and GameCube. His father happened to call during that time too, which was the worst of timing. It's not that I think his father would be upset about the situation, but it causes other complications.

In particular, Hammy told me that his father wondered why I thought he was old enough to stay home by himself but not old enough to fly on a plane alone. I still wonder how in the world any sane person could make that comparison, but then he's not the sanest of people on earth. Correct me if I'm wrong, but does leaving a twelve and a half year old boy at home alone for four hours while you're only one mile from the house and gave him not only your cell phone number but every relative's cell phone number in the place along with the phone number of the establishment mean he's capable of flying over 1000 miles for only his second flight in his entire life and making a connection because there are no direct flights from Pittsburgh to Omaha? To me, that seems like giving the kid a driver's license because he played some computer driving game and did OK. There is no such thing as progression of responsibility in that man's head, but then, he never was one to think things through. All he knows is that my refusal to allow Hammy to fly by himself costs him an extra plane ticket.

It's not that I don't think Hammy could handle flying on his own. I'm pretty sure he could manage. I could also seeing him getting scared, confused, and possibly lost. The airlines are not as accomodating as they used to be, for good reason. Even though he probably wouldn't end up in an undesirable situation, I don't want him to even have the potential of such at his age. Also as remote as the possibility might seem, if anything happened to him, I could never live with myself, be it an abduction, plane crash, or whathaveyou. Knowing someone is with him to watch him or be with him during a disaster is worth the extra $250-$300 it would cost for another plane ticket.

It could be argued that something could happen to him at home too, but it's a much more controlled environment. He's not out in the world with other people and events to affect him. Eventually, he will be ready for that, but he's never going to get there without first gaining responsibility at home.

I could just wring my ex's neck sometimes. Of course, he talked about all this with our son, which is totally inappropriate. Par for the course for him. He's going to have an earful next time we talk.

That's reason enough right there never to get married again, at least if there are children involved. You get to deal with two childish men instead of just one.

We'll be picking Booie up in about three hours. She must have done well enough, because we didn't get any calls. I worried about her much of the night too, especially since I think I didn't give her a warm enough coat to wear. I felt guilty about it the rest of the evening to the point that I considered driving the half hour down to the camp to take another coat to her. John thinks I worry too much. He's probably right. I'll be glad to have her home again where I can switch coats at my whim.

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