Crazy Busy is Spelled M-E-G-A-N

Or T-W-I-N-S. But babies are more rewarding than volunteer work and overtime, I can tell you that.

I'm having a bit of a library school feeding. There were a few terms there where I had a per-week schedule divided into hours, blocked off with time for classes, studying, work, and fun: "Hmm, looks like I can enjoy myself between 7:30 and 9 pm on Saturday."

I'm nearing that stage again, what with yoga, Planned Parenthood Ottawa, classes, venus envy bursary fund, friends, partner and dates. And the sundry around-town fun stuff that comes up all over the place. I hate being so busy, but I don't want to give anything up, either.

Oh, and I somehow managed to get back on that Perpetual Motion Roadshow train. Anyone got a place for the PMR to happen May 25th? I'm having a helluva a time finding a venue.

This busy-ness seems to be a family thing. Can't seem to catch either my mom or sister except they're coming from or going to work, other work, classes, volunteer stuff, etc.

I guess it's a woman-family thing. Since my dad is a mechanic (specifically, he builds engines for late model race cars) and lives in an apartment he built in the back of his shop, he's pretty much always around, unless he's drinking wobbly pops (his weirdo name for beer) with his bowling team. Or unless it's summer, and he's driving all over hell's-half-acre to one race-track or another (often Mosport, for you Peterborans, but a few in upstate New York too, and one in Miami, I think).

Well, the women may be busy, but my dad gets the most parentheses.