Going through some pictures of Dad's the other day, I found this one I hadn't seen before. I believe this is me and Mom. In most every picture of me as a child I'm screwing up my face or scratching my ass or making some kind of weird contortion. Oh wait ... pictures of me as an adult aren't that much different.

I was counting the time spent in Kelowna and realize that we were there for nine months. You know how they say, what goes around comes around? So: Mom carried me for nine months until I was born, and I helped carry her for nine months until she died. Seems a kind of poetic justice in that. She ushered me in, I ushered her out.

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At Grandma's birthday party my aunt, sister, niece, cousin and I sat at her kitchen table and talked about people's idiosyncracies regarding food. I admitted that I hurry through finger food so I can get my hands clean and dry again. I do not like messy eats. Honestly. I love oranges, but they're sticky and juicy ... so I'll pass them by for a piece of dry bread. I love lobster, but hate mucking about with the shell. An open bag of potato chips on my lap while I drive? Scarf 'em down, get them the hell out of here. Stuff like that.

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Off to the doc this afternoon with Emil, who has been home all week, so stuffed up it's pathetic. He's feeling better now, but still not 100%. My cousin reminded me that sometimes regular chiropractic treatment can make a difference, so I've made an appointment for that. And two readers have written to say that allergies can cause what appear to be frequent colds; so today I will put the wheels in motion to have Emil checked for allergies. Thanks to all of you for your helpful suggestions. Maybe we'll get to the bottom of this yet.