Newsflash.

This just in: meat causes cancer.

In other news, wedding gifts have started to arrive. I suppose I should work on writing the ceremony. That's the problem with having a non-church wedding--you have to make up something to substitute for the word of the Lord. Pray (to the Lord if you happen to have one) I don't fail miserably.

There was a fire in our building last night that merited three fire trucks and an emergency response SUV. Way to be on the ball, town of Dracut. That's what I like about living in a small town--minor fires get major attention. If I ever had a problem (say, getting hit by a car like my Angelika--which seems to happen to people in my life, considering that my husband was seriously injured as a child when an old lady in a Jaguar ran him over and was more worried about her Jag than the kid unconscious and bleeding profusely on the ground), the policia would be there in spades fo sho. Apparently it was small and easily contained, and luckily wasn't anywhere near us. After the building-wide alarm had been going off for 15 minutes, I was preparing to throw my cats (and my lock box, jewelry, and wedding dress) in the car and go to Mommy's just to get away from the noise. My ears were ringing for hours afterward, I can only imagine how Jacob, Jasper and Lola felt.

Corny greeting card blurb for today: May your wedding gifts be large and your kitchen fires small this holiday season.