All things bright and happy
The song goes something like that, right?
So it turns out that I don't have a thyroid condition. Or at least, not anymore. This week's bloodwork was normal, so it was either a fluke earlier this year or a temporary case of thyroiditis which has stabilized back in the normal range. I could have a baby whenever we wanted. Of course, figuring that latter bit out is the hard part.
Also, I sat down with my treasurers and worked on the 2008 budget. You know, the one for which we had that big giving campaign. No one was more surprised than me when we typed all the numbers into excel and looked at the bottom line, where you subtract the expenses from the inflows. It was black, not red. In the official wordage of Webster, w00t.
And silly irony for the day: pastor in her (pink) clerical shirt, in her car, inexplicably rockin' out to Justin Timberlake's "Love Stoned" (she's freaky and she knows it/she's freaky and I like it) -- what? it has a good beat-- and stops at a traffic light. Of course, two young men in the adjacent car notice me seat-dancing and start laughing, bee-bopping to whatever tune is on their radio. I just hung my head and laughed at myself. And went right back to dancing.
So it turns out that I don't have a thyroid condition. Or at least, not anymore. This week's bloodwork was normal, so it was either a fluke earlier this year or a temporary case of thyroiditis which has stabilized back in the normal range. I could have a baby whenever we wanted. Of course, figuring that latter bit out is the hard part.
Also, I sat down with my treasurers and worked on the 2008 budget. You know, the one for which we had that big giving campaign. No one was more surprised than me when we typed all the numbers into excel and looked at the bottom line, where you subtract the expenses from the inflows. It was black, not red. In the official wordage of Webster, w00t.
And silly irony for the day: pastor in her (pink) clerical shirt, in her car, inexplicably rockin' out to Justin Timberlake's "Love Stoned" (she's freaky and she knows it/she's freaky and I like it) -- what? it has a good beat-- and stops at a traffic light. Of course, two young men in the adjacent car notice me seat-dancing and start laughing, bee-bopping to whatever tune is on their radio. I just hung my head and laughed at myself. And went right back to dancing.