I am deeply disappointed in the voters of Ohio. That's all I'll say about it.
My father got positive confirmation yesterday that he has multiple myeloma. I'm cautiously optimistic -- they've caught it as early as humanly possible and the treatments are nothing like they were even five years ago. His prognosis is excellent, even if the next several months will be very hard for him.
This means, of course, that I have to tell my sister. It'll be interesting to see if she just refuses to call me back or if she does as she did when my mom broke her leg -- call long enough to ascertain that he isn't dead, then not speak to anyone again. My dad is hoping to hear from his youngest daughter. Not looking forward to telling him, "Well, I called and told her..."
Daisy Mae has walking pneumonia. I swear, this child has the constitution of a fruit fly. We have her on antibiotics, however, so she should be OK by Monday.
As I once again got to take the big dogs out on leash today, only to have them encounter a herd of deer in the back yard, I began to understand why old people keep pocket dogs.
It's going down to 29 degrees tonight. The furnace won't be fixed until tomorrow. Brr.