but I digress...

So I've been thinking that photo up there deserves an explanation - I mean, are those birth-control glasses, or what? What happened to the rest of my face? Why am I even wearing glasses, since those of you who know me know that I've had 20/20 vision all my life. And it's a funny story, or maybe it isn't - the whole situation struck us as deeply and hilariously weird at the time, but it's probably one of those "Ya had to be there" things. And of course it was long enough ago (a whole month, wow!) that I've forgotten some of the details. I did take notes, in that little notebook I mentioned in a previous entry, but I don't have that notebook to hand, because of another thing that happened. Which is that I left my purse at someone's house. We, except for Thing1 who went to see his godfather instead, went to a sort of Americans Gathering For Thanksgiving thing in Munich, on Saturday. Which was fun, yadda yadda yadda, oh except that Thing2 was a surly-butt - the hosts have a 4-year-old son, a charming little boy who was very happy to have someone his age to play with, except that Thing2 wouldn't play. Which not only embarrassed me, because he should be nice to other people (even though he has nobody to model this behavior for him, since his parents are surly-butts as well - oh no, remind me to tell you about Niklas's sweater sometime), but also annoyed me because he wanted to crawl all over me while I was trying to talk to grown-ups. Gad, is it time for a new paragraph yet?

Sure, what the hell. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, reasonably fun and not terribly eventful, except that, as the punch line of a comedy of errors, I left my purse there. With the notebook in it. And my cel phone, and my PDA which has little alarms to help me remember to do stuff, and I devoutly hope no alarms are set on it right now, because Robert won't be able to pick up my purse until Tuesday. Also hope nobody calls me. Because the family who hosted the Thanksgiving Thing were very nice, and my son has already been rude to their son, and I have already demonstrated my complete scatterbrainedness, and on top of everything else, I would really hate to annoy them in absentia with random beepy gadget noises.

So that's why the story of the glasses will have to wait. Because this entry is already long enough. Maybe I'll remember when I've got my purse back, Tuesday evening, or maybe the story will be supplanted by whatever happens tomorrow morning, at my appointment with Thing1's shrink. Which I sincerely hope I remember to go to, because it's at 8.30 am, and I don't have my PDA to remind me.