So I'm up late pressing some CDs of George's mp3s. Try to get him to make a CD of his own music. It's impossible. Spread out across a hundred places, in his studio, on other people's compilations. The cobbler's children have no shoes. Like that. It's nice to have a laptop that burns CDs now. I am no more hostage to the big mysterious monster studio machine. I'll just do it myself. End run the artist, basically. Desparate times call for disparate measures. Isn't that what they say? Now if Jenna just stays well....
She's getting better. Her heart is aching though. She tells me in so many ways ten times a day. I took her to Walmart after school today to eat at the little hamburger shop. I told her she could get one small treat, and she picked little girly makeup kit. You know, the kids' kind with the brightest colors imaginable, all sparkles and bright pinks and blues and the like. I made her promise, ONLY for home. No school. No outside. "Okay mommy!"
She ran upstairs as soon as we got home and put on about six layers. Then came over with her bright lipstick and kissed me on both cheeks. I'm thinking to keep it on for a few days. Her little lip imprints make me weak kneed. She is too sweet.
now to sleep.
