I’m up visiting the daughter, helping out with the chilluns while she tries to get her PhD finished. I’m filling in for the nanny until she comes back from having her new baby. (I don’t know if the baby will come too or not.) and baby grandgirl is now 1 year old and wants to help me. I have to keep her from typing with her feet, standing on the table, falling off the bench, and putting her apple in the crayon box. She’s absolutely adorable. 
I’m having adventures in driving in Pittsburgh again, too. I dropped my daughter off at Carnegie Mellon so she could go to her seminar and I could come back home to meet the grandboy from the bus and take him to his social skills therapy. I got lost before I got off the CMU campus. But the daughter was available by cellphone and got me straightened out and where I needed to be. We even made it out to therapy without mishap.
Then came home to discover that the dog ate a whole bag (less about 6 kisses) of dark chocolate kiusses, foil and all. She’s a medium sized dog (the one in front, in the picture–the other is her cousin dog who came to visit) so maybe it won’t be too big a dose.
And yet, I am still writing, believe it or not. I’m not getting a whole lot done at a time, and when I can’t turn on the heater (we can’t run the heater in my room and baby girl’s room at the same time or it will blow a breaker), I can’t write, because it’s cold enough for this Southern wuss with no cold tolerance that I just get under the covers and go to sleep. But I am writing.
Okay, time to go pick up the boy and then go get his mama and then go get some supper. Y’all take care. And wish me luck. I do not want to get lost again.