Ice cream, blazing infernos, and stick shifts

I know, I know, I haven't blogged in forever (aka two weeks).

So, let me catch you up:

Michael and I's favorite ice cream store (that makes their own frozen deliciousness in the back) went out of business. During this fated ice cream run, we also discovered that they were selling their stock: 10 pints of hand-packed, homemade ice cream for $10. Needless to say, our freezer is quite full at the moment.

uhhm, don't know if you've noticed, but... Southern California burned to the ground. Jim and Ami made it out of Rancho Bernardo just fine, as did Chris and Chandra out of Ramona. My brother was put on voluntary evacuation, but it was lifted about a day later. Alpine was miraculously spared...again, if you remember their proximity to the 2003 fires. The Grass Valley fire was named for Grass Valley road...the road that borders one side of the camp. Anyway, far as I know we're all safe and only slightly singed.

I got a new psychologist...nice guy; I think it'll work out fine. I always hate introductory psych meetings. "Hi, this is me. Here's my medication history, symptom history, family history, blah blah blah." Ick. So glad to have that over with.

But, on a high note: I learned to drive a stick yesterday. Whoohoo! I think I only sort of freaked out Mike (and all others unlucky enough to be parked in the far end of the SEARS parking lot). I even took it out on the road this morning and didn't even stall! Yes, yes, I know. I'm hardcore. But I look like a total granny because I'm sitting so close to the steering wheel in order to push the clutch all the way in. Still working on the "style" factor.

And that's life. I'm off to finish my crossword, sort and fold laundry, and work on my philosophy paper due next week. Happy Sunday,