Mechanic pencils

don't hold up to my angstful writing pressure. Asians must be very calm writers.

I haven't been on line much. I spent the week planning a surprise party for Ed's 50 birthday, calling people, surepticiously bringing in large amounts of groceries, paper plates and cups, making cheeseballs and artichoke dip late at night, smuggling them into the freezer. I scanned a bunch of photos of him at different ages to decorate the walls with, put some on a giant birthday card for everyone at the party to sign. The tricky part was getting him out of the house for a few hours. I said I had to work at a library fund raiser doing dishes; Ed's sister had him out to dinner. And I rushed around setting up tables, blowing up balloons. I had shrimp rings defrosting under Carolyn's bed where he wouldn't see them; the cake and a deli tray stashed at the neighbors. I took our rambunctious border collie to Uncle Eldons. But it all turned out well. There was a good crowd, a nice mix of people, and Ed had fun. Lots of food left over; won't have to cook for a week. Ed was surprised but wondered why I had been on cleaning frenzy that week.