  Once upon a time, there was a man who had a Very Bad dream. The dream was such a nightmare that he felt the need to swear that he would destroy the next thing to enter his room, on the condition that the dream would end, and trouble him no longer. The gods, or demons, heard his promise, and the man awaoke from his nightmare. He saw his only daughter before him, who had woke him from his terrible dream. But, a promise is a promise, and he tried to kill his daughter. The daughter ran from him, and a cherry tree in the garden called to her, and bore her away to an island where the cherry tree, and the daughter spent many a happy year.
During this time, she learned to speak with the birds, and the animals, and in time, they brought her news of the world away from her safe island and her saviour cherry tree. Years went by. Then, a bird came to the girl (now a woman) and told her that her father was ill, and was on his death bed. The girl went to her father's side right away; and with her presence and administrations, he was soon in the very bloom of health. Upon his recovery, he slew his daughter, because, after all, a promise is a promise. So, finally, we are blessed with 4 little furballs to take care of before they can be adopted.
There are two white kittens; one with a grey smear on its head, and two different colored eyes. There are two black ones. They tend to cuddle together in lumps of two; one black, one white. They appear to be in good health, are approximately 4 weeks old, and they are wilder than your average raccoon. (A surgical toothed strike on my right pinky can attest to this. ) Apparently, the four were huddled in a barn, and with the help of sturdy gloves taken in by a volunteer in the same in which organisation Kurt and I are a part.
The lady had no room for our fierce little babies, so now they are sequestered in the spare room. We're to tame them, have them immunized, cleaned, and socialized. Then, off they go to worthy homes. They are, despite the dirt, beautiful animals, fluffy, with large, expressive eyes. Sharp teeth, though. I did finish my application for the parent helper.
I felt obligated to finish what I had begun, and I have the hope that in applying, and perhaps obtaining this employment would increase my opinon of myself somewhat. I can now say that I tried, instead of saying that I let it slide on by. Even if I don't get the job, I feel like, well, that I've done something active, instead of passively waiting for my brain to hurry up and heal. Blah. I sound hokey. You know what I mean, though, right?
I feel like I'm sitting here with my thumb firmly implanted in my ass, so I've got to do a little something, even if it turns out I can't take the job. (For example, if i got my back-to-school funding. ) No news other than the Four Beasties. My stomah still feels achey, sore, and otherwise like it forcibly removing it would be a less painful option. Lucas' itchies are subsiding. Kurt is doing A-ok in school, and the family is good, the friends are likewise, and I learned today that Pascal's Wager is much more complicated than what I thought. 
