Gosh, 10:13 PM already - so sorry. I know that this isn't a diary, per-say, but today was kinda full of "stuff" - up at 7:00 to practice massage, a 2 1/2 hour drive down to Palo Alto to collect my Mom from my sister and all three of us attending a meeting with my Mom's financial adviser, then further south to San Jose to meet Kyle and Val for dinner (at the Old Spaghetti Factory), then another 2 1/2 hour drive back up to Windsor. Then, I must admit, I watched "Agents of Shield" on TV, and now it's after 10:00 and I'm fucking exhausted and realizing that I hadn't written anything for my blog today. Pooh.
My poor sister is having more medical problems: it seems that she's had WAY more than her share of troubles, it really doesn't seem fair. There's not much to do yet, she's having more tests done, but she has really thrown everything into caring for my Dad (now deceased) and my Mom over the last year or so, which for her means really not being able to care sufficiently for her own health, and now her body is letting her know how big a mistake that is. I hope that my own time here is less damaging on me (since I react super differently to stress than my sister, I am hopeful, but I suppose time will tell). I did manage to get a Bunny picture at Old Spaghetti Factory, which I have yet to post on the internet (I thought that this was more important, both because it's harder and because I really am trying to blog regularly), but soon, very soon, that picture will go up!
Tomorrow is my Shiatsu sequence practical exam, I'm not super nervous, but I am somewhat concerned that I will miss some piece (I've been missing one piece, then another, each time I do the exam). I'll try practicing more with writing out the sequence, and I'll use numbers to try and affect other parts of my brain to help remember, too - I think if I can use multiple bits: kinesthetic, linguistic and mathematical parts, I have a better chance of remember it all! I'll let you know how it turns out (even though this is NOT technically a diary or journal - but the outcome will undoubtedly affect my mood, and that will effect what I write).

Sober quidvilaquist
never laughing
always packing
and now
he sees
the end

Hmm, how odd, a poem, of sorts. OK, since you'll never know what I'll write, I guess poetry is fair game. See you tomorrow (I hope)