My father could care less about the things I'm capable of, which leads me to believe that I am capable of little.

The birds are flying around squawking like nuts because they think it's spring. It's 53 degrees in the North Chicagoland area. Remember, it's also January.

I've knitted two scarves in the past week. I'm working on ones for Dave, Kristine, and Ed. Sign the guestbook or e-mail me if you'd like one too.

I'm all about the random acts this week, as it seems that most people have caught a nasty case of the I'm sad bug. I have to pick it up to try and make them feel better.

Winter hasn't been hard so far. But it's a ways before it's over.