Super, thanks for asking.

I am always grateful for a long weekend.  Always.  It feels like Sunday and it's Monday.  Thus combining the two least favorite days of the week into one sad lump.

Friday, just after 11 AM, I left the hustle and bustle of Nashville for my birthplace.  I went to see Mom and Dad in Roswell and had a delightful weekend.

A trip to Charming Charlie's, the Roswell Farmers Market, time with my parents and their pugs.

It's just what the doctor ordered.

To that end, my head looks excellent- better than I'd have hoped.

I can't wait for it to be ready for water aerobics.

I can't wait for my birthday.  I want a huge-ass chocolate cake, all to myself.  And some coffee ice cream.

I'm hungry, it would seem.

I'm back home now, preparing for a work week full of sunshine and lollipops.

I'm also preparing for a party at the house.  And I'm not quite motivated.

Well, maybe the thought of a dozen visitors will get me moving.

But first, dinner.  And that means spaghetti.