Brain farts. Or peri-menopausal ADD.

I am not in the mood to talk about MS. Not my own nor anyone else's.

I am tired of paying the veterinarian over $200-300 a month to make my dog better. We both have an autoimmune disorder. My flare-ups are usually over and done with in a month. His has gone on since mid-January.

I gotta get the h-e-double hockey sticks out of this town for awhile.

My niece turned six a couple of weeks ago. I just bought her card today. I deserve to have my membership in the Aunt club revoked.

God, I hope I'm on some real Fingolimod and not placebo.

I wish my legs would effing stop giving out from underneath me.

I want a week - seven days in a row - without spending any money.

I enjoyed Jeff Goldblum's first appearance on Law & Order: CI tonight.

When I read a blog post that strikes me as funny, I hesitate to comment because what if the blogger did not mean it?

Springsteen is in Atlanta tonight and for the first time in 30 years I'm not there. And it doesn't bother me which is a little weird.

It's time for my yearly pap and mammo but I just can't afford it right now. That's not a whine, but a fact. And it pisses me off.