One week since you looked at me.

Couldn't resist.

We're alive, more or less. I am slowly hitting the wall. I am realizing the week ahead is going to suck ass. I have a ton of work, and the Lad has a final to write and administer and grade, and then the outlaws arrive for the weekend, and the Lad cannot seem to actually tell me how long they are staying for, though they ARE staying at a hotel. Thank god. I'd go insane if there was someone under my roof other than me and the lad and the snark. Attractive though the thought of someone else handling night feedings is. Because of the lad's schedule, it's going to be me and the snark solo for a good 7 hours at a clip a couple of days, and that prospect is just exhausting and terrifying. Here's to a glass of wine with dinner!

But! I promised dish, as it were, on 40 and clients and whatnot. So here goes, in no particular order.

-We have wonderful friends, who have sent chocolates (Thanks Matilda and Dog Faced Boy!) and very hungry caterpillar onsies (thanks Alanna!) and flowers (Thanks Leather Pants Grrrrl!) and hilariously excited messages (thanks King of the Hill People!). I have silly clients, who have sent bouqets of cookies and checks for the bebe accidentally made out to themselves, which I have then had to contact them and say gently, "I think you might have put a check in here by accident" and let them try to save face.

-We have wonderful friends at 40. The lad went over there to pick up takeout for dinner on Sunday, as a treat, and Michael the chef cavorted into the back and whipped up something not on the menu as a giant old FUCK YOU to my food limitations- a chunk of seared tuna so huge it blotted out the sun, and by seared I mean 'held towards a candle for a few seconds'. He also insted the Lad get me, in addition to the appetizer he'd ordered, another one consisting of perfect spheres of raw milk goat cheese. Then they refused to let the Lad pay for any of it.

And I have drunk beer. And wine. And meyer lemon vodka lemonades. And lo they are good.