We choose to go to the moon...

Mitch Albom was in our office this week to talk about his new book, For One More Day. It's not a book I plan to read but the concept really got me - just one more day with a parent who died. Just one more day. It wouldn't be enough, not nearly enough, but I've spent far too long wishing for just one more day. Especially now, as an adult.

(That sounds much more depressing than I intend it. After 23 years of wanting that day, I'm nothing if not pragmatic.)

In excellent news, my mother was cleared to visit me Columbus Day weekend. Her white counts have been low so there was concern about her traveling but the doctor cleared her! I can't wait. It's been a year and a half since my mother's come to visit me. In October '05 she was waylaid by Hurricane Wilma and, in January '06, she was beginning all of this nonsense so the visit is a long time coming. Plus, my mom has never, ever been to Michigan. I'm helping her expand her horizons!

Yesterday, as I pulled out of my driveway to go to work, Sally was sitting in the window watching me. When I came home late last night, she was sitting in the same spot. She's so consistent and wonderful. She kills bugs and snuggles with me and is the sweetest little bundle of fur ever.

Oh! So, I'm finally settling into my house and, with that, comes awareness of the bumps in the night. Yesterday morning I woke up to a weird, high pitched whining noise. Rather than assume it was wind as, perhaps, as NORMAL person would do, I was convinced a crazy, injured gun wielding killer was in my living room. I'm not kidding when I say I worked myself into a frenzy. But, 24 hours later in the light of day, I'm pretty convinced it was the wind. Please tell me I'm not the only one thrown by the bumps in the night.