Saturday a woman said it was good luck to get married in the rain. I was married beneath excruciating sun.

Yesterday was fun, I was hacked. Did you do it? Someone hacked into my website and there were bots involved and malicious content was going out behind my back. My account was suspended I had to remember some technical things, there were .ini files to edit and .php files to move. It was more than I had bargained for, it was fun. The main thing, my host people said, was my password, it had to be changed. I had a simple password, I needed one complex. So I complexed it, and now all’s secure.

I have three days to finish you-know-what, I promise I’ll do it this time. I’m popping cappucinos two at a time, doubles. There’s no way I’ll lose focus, it’s impossible to be discouraged; it’s a pretty book, a pretty end, you’re going to like it I know you will, you’ll see.

Last night was a wonderful one, partly because of the moon it was pretty. Partly because of my offspring, they’re fun. Partly because of C., she’s funny, and M., she wiggles. Partly because of friends who called or stopped by, or texted or emailed or invited me places, partly because of plans. Mostly, I think, it was the moon, though, did you see it? And Fred and George – gasp! – I almost forgot them, they’re frogs.

Now what I want to say is this: Happy Three 9s day! I’ve a book to wrap up, I gotta go.

(Hey New York M. and D. … where are you?)

It’s odd, the transition. From one life to another. Today, for my garage run, I put a t-shirt on, I took no note of it none at all. But then my father was here and he pointed to a number on the shirt: 11,240. “That’s Mt. Hood,” he said. Yes, it is, he was right. 11,240′ is the height of Mt. Hood and it’s on the front of my t-shirt because I bought it at Timberline Lodge, which is on Mt. Hood, you see the connection.

The point is, well first it’s a very old shirt, twelve years. Second, I bought it and one for A. about 10 minutes before he proposed. I was in a tank top and shorts because it was July but it was still cold on the mountain and we kept going outside because A. had it in his head outside was where he’d propose. But I didn’t know that. I only knew I was cold. And I knew if we were going to continue to loiter pointlessly outside I’d need something better to wear so I bought a long-sleeved t-shirt, and I bought one for A.

It resurfaced recently, this shirt, and I thought nothing of it. I put it on today for my run in the garage and then my father pointed to the number and then I paused. I’ll take it off soon because I’ll shower and after that I’ll find something different to wear, but it’s those sorts of things. They feel odd. In the transition from one life to another one.

It’s terrible, those Ducks. I went to all the trouble of watching their game and then missed the best part, the sucker punch at the end.

The garbage man came and I had remembered to put it out (the garbage). Not in that order, though. Worked out for the best.

The sky is gray, the lawn is mowed, I owe CJ some money, so what’s new. Tonight there’s a sleepover and I’m terrified. Have you ever had a sleepover? Not the grownup kind that happens when one stays too late at bars, the kind for girls who are 8. I can’t believe that G. is 8. It’s ridiculous, I think she’s lying. I had Mrs. Critchlow when I was 8 and I loved Mitch Civilicek and I walked back and forth to school and my mom made me a pretty dress for Pioneer Days. I have no idea what I was for Halloween. G. won’t tell me who she loves, she swears she loves no one but there has to be someone, I don’t buy it. She brushes her hair very carefully in the morning –who does that if not for love?

If you want to come to the sleepover, I’m serving pizza. There will be a movie of some sort, and probably screaming … I’m nervous did I say that? Terrified, I think I said, that’s accurate. Pizza, cake, swimming, movie … in the morning we’ll eat waffles. At 10am it will be done and everyone will move on.

Birthdays. For mine I want frogs.

My brilliant friend T. — and yes, there’s more than one of you, you’ll have to discuss among yourselves which one I mean — has taken up terms of endearment, too, but only Michael Jackson ones. He’s called me Bubbles, and Blanket and just now a few minutes ago, Neverland Ranch. In turn, I’ve affectionately dubbed him Glove and Sequins and one other one that I forget but I’m sure it was good.

You should try it, it’s changed my life.

Something else has, too; this one from my brilliant friend Megan: CTMWMAS. I don’t know if it’s a flaw in my character, or a deformity, or something they have medication for, but I never Laugh Out Loud. I do sometimes when you’re here, but it’s extremely rare for me to do it when you’re not. Similarly, I’ve never Laughed My A– Off, or few of the rest of the things either. I do, however, Chuckle To Myself Without Making A Sound. I frequently CTMWMAS.

I am blessed with an odd crew of friends.

Two weeks ago there was a bee in my kitchen and it was the biggest one that ever lived. Today, in the front of my house, it’s a fly. It’s the biggest fly ever. I ought to put it in a museum.

If you want to cook for me today, Laura, I think I can clear a spot for you.

My tongue hurts for some reason, and you need to finish your books, everyone. Agents are waiting.