"Don't eat the phone book" has become a regular part of my vocabulary. My copy of the yellow pages is on the floor next to my desk. It's big and heavy and I fear I'll throw my back out yet again if I bend over to pick it up, and honestly, if I did pick it up, there wouldn't be another place for me to put it, because all of the available surfaces are already home to something, mostly stacks of papers. So the phone book resides on the floor, where Fizzgigg and Niblet both like to take turns chewing on the spine. Fizzgigg is five years old and way past his chewing phase, but there's something about the phone book that his little teeth just can't resist.

Anyway.

I attended CASA orientation today. I don't think this is something I'll be able to do. It's something I would like to do, but once you commit to a case you have to stick with it until the end, when the child has been placed in a permanent home. It's your job to provide a sense of stability for the child until then. I don't have enough stability in my own life to be responsible for something like that. Sometimes these cases drag on for years, and I'm in a transitional phase right now. I'm just not in a place where I can commit to something like this. I think I would love to do this once I'm out of school, but for now I'll probably fulfill my internship requirements by helping out around the offices instead of working as an advocate.

Hey! I just heard thunder! And it's dark outside! I think it's going to rain! Whee!

I received my tax refund today, so I spent the afternoon running errands and spending it. After paying the bill at my doctor's office, refilling my Synthroid and buying a few groceries, I think I have enough left over to pay my smaller bills. The larger ones will just have to wait until the unemployment checks start coming in.

On the way home from depositing my check at the credit union, I saw one of those "Got Milk?" billboards featuring a shirtless Malcolm (from Malcolm in the Middle) flexing his arm. After being squicked by the fact that he was shirtless -- I mean, was that really necessary? Couldn't they have put a tank top on him? He's just a little boy, for criminy's sake -- I started thinking about how the media describes that show as being about a dysfunctional family. Same with The Simpsons. Okay. I'll bite. On both shows, the parents are still together, still in love, nobody's an alcoholic, the children get disciplined when they need it without getting abused ... could somebody please explain to me where the dysfunction comes in? Maybe my vision's a little skewed from having grown up in a truly dysfunctional family, but both of those families look pretty together to me. No, they're not perfect, but since when does failing to emulate the Cleavers equal dysfunction? If you want to see a good TV example of what a dysfunctional family really looks like, go watch "Titus." Bart & Lisa and Malcom and his brothers all look like they've got it pretty good to me.

Anyway, again.

Late last night I posted Episode Nine of War!. Faith kicks some butt in this one, and Spike's got a sword. I'll tell you right now: Spike + sword = damn sexy.