Hellooooo Nurse

I can't sleep. That's what I get for napping today. Oh well. I'm still going to get up in an hour and a half and read the NY Times. Maybe have a cappucino. I really should figure out if my machine works or not. But the only can opener I have is the kind that is supposed to leave it without sharp edges or something. All it really ends up doing is cutting off the top instead of just the inside part. So the lid can't go back on. Dammit. Why T. decided to get that one instead of a normal one I will never know. I will also never know why we can't have a normal sized knife. All we have are this wimpy little paring knives. Maybe I should go to Target in a few hours and get those. Of course, now that it looks like we will be getting the new baby, and it also looks like it is very likely that it will coincide with President's Day weekend, I will probably be taking her home, so I will have to do some real shopping in about a week or so. I also have to read a few hundred pages from various books. Not to mention watch all the news shows I tivo'd. Well, at least I don't care about the Super Bowl and won't be watching that. There's always next year. As if. Maybe my children will have a chance to actually see the Lions make it to the Super Bowl. Or at least my grandchildren.

So I started school. I love my classes. I love my drugs. All breathing issues have totally disappeared except for nights like tonight when I don't sleep at all. And I go to all my classes without the least bit of hesitation. AND I PAY ATTENTION!!!!!!! It's amazing how ADD I was without even noticing it. I can also have long conversations with people without saying much for a long period of time and not drift off to some other place. D. is here for the weekend. She is still amazed that no one ever diagnosed me before. She always thought I was medicated and it just didn't work. Otherwise, she would've mentioned it to me.

Aunt V. came into town last weekend for a buying trip. We went out to Indian. Of course, Dad's first question to her was, "Do you think the drugs are working?" (She does.)

My last Friday night home we stayed up late (well, for Dad) reading war letters from Grandpa to his sisters and nephews and parents. It was so cool. There were about six months missing from his first year, but other than that it was pretty complete. I really didn't know anything about his war record. He was a pilot and flew 40 missions, and he bombed Iwo Jima. He was 30 in '42, so he was too old to enlist, so he made himself a fake drivers license that said he was 26. It's so weird, because I read, and loved Catch 22, and this is like all that in real life. There is definitely enough material there for a book. Someone just has to go sit down with Grandpa and get some more of his stories on tape. V. has voluteered me. But Dad says he's gonna do it. I think it could be interesting. Whether or not the book ever gets written, we should still get him to tell us all he can. He told Dad a story when he gave him all his war papers. Apparently, first day off of training, Grandpa goes up in his very own plane. He flies around and all is well until he comes in for the landing. He landed so badly that the plane was no more than scrap metal. Not that anyone was hurt or anything. So he hottailed it to the beach to hide out from his C.O. He spent a couple days shooting crabs. When he ran out of ammo, he went back. His C.O. pretty much told him he was through. But he ended up only being grounded for a month. Then he caught a ride back to San Fransico (I think) and got a brand new B-24 right off the assembly line.

Anyway, I should try closing my eyes for the next half hour.