Where to start?

Good grief, what can I say? Not much has been going on out here in the land of the flat. I have been looking and looking for a job I can do from home. I applied for one with a chaufferring company. I would make calls to drivers to make sure they know where they need to be and who they are picking up and where to take them. It would require me to be pretty dedicated during my shift. I had a phone interview and they asked me to come in for a real interview. I realized all my good clothes were still in storage! What would I wear? Jean skirt with hole ripped in it? No. Cropped jeans with a t-shirt? No. White skirt and flip-flops? No. I had 8 hours to find suitable interview clothing. Needless to say, after a very long day at the mall, I had my clothes, but still no shoes. John brought us all home at 9 pm. I put Libby to bed and John left to get some food for himself. He called me at 9:45 - "What time does Target close?" Uh, 10 pm. "I'll call you when I get there!". He called me as he was running through the parking lot, trying to make it inside before they locked the doors. As soon as he made it in, I heard "Attention Target shoppers..." John said "They hate me, I'll see you in a little bit and hung up". In the end, John was in and out in less than 5 minutes, and just happened to find the perfect pair of black slingbacks for the interview. Never underestimate the shopping power of a man in a hurry!

So, I had my interview and it went really well. I was the first one to be interviewed, so it will be a week or two before I hear whether or not I got the job. It would be perfect if I did.

While Libby and I were at the mall, we stopped at a play area for her to blow off some steam. There was this little boy about her age stalking her the whole time. He would sneak up behind her and try to tackle her. His Dad was always close behind to pull him off, so I wasn't too worried. Well, one time the kid got a good hold on her and while his dad was prying him off, the kid bit Libby on the face. Oh my gosh, was she mad! She didn't want to cuddle, she wanted to stand in the middle of the play area, point at the kid, and scream her head off at him! The dad was mortified. I think the kid does that a lot, hence the dad sticking to him like glue. He didn't break skin, but the teeth marks stuck around for a few days. The day before Libby ran into the corner of a dresser and got a cut right by her eye. The bite was right below it. That night at the mall once again, I wanted to wear a sign saying "I don't beat my child, I swear!". My clumsiness over the last week has caused some nasty bruises on my feet and legs, so I wanted to make John a sign too - "I don't beat my wife, I promise!". We were a sorry bunch. Here is a shot of Libby's poor face: