We’re back from the doctor - this time, we finally got our 1 year check up for Lily, plus three shots and a toe stick to test her iron levels. Her iron is still low, so we’re putting her on iron drops and hoping it doesn’t rot her teeth in the meantime. She’s mostly over the flu, but still not eating the way she used to. She dropped more weight. She’s in the whoppin’ 5th percentile - I knew Lily would be petite, but I was hoping she wouldn’t be quite this petite. I’m still holding out hope that she will go through some major growth spurts. I just keep having flash backs of being thrown in lockers in junior high (when I say “in”, I literally mean “in”, not “into”). And let’s face it - if you have size 5 or 5.5 shoes, good luck finding anything fashionable.

So, Lily is up to date on her immunizations and I’m still sweltering down here in contractor hell. Mullet Boy is still here - the Mystery Machine he drives broke down over the weekend, preventing his cell phone from working (apparently) as well as finishing the job. His mystery machine is much scarier than this one - it’s primer gray and someone has vandalized it by painting graffiti all over it. My neighbors all hate me - between the mystery machine permanently parked in my driveway, and Pergo Man’s souped up 1986 Cutlass Supreme complete with naked woman mud flaps, we are not the favorites of the neighborhood.

Pergo Man comes tomorrow, barring the unforeseen, which I’m sure will happen. If he does show up, as well as the Pergo, then maybe we’ll get the toilet off the back steps in the garage and the sewer hole will be covered with it. And we’ll have no more bare floor. That would be a miracle, but I’m still optimistic . . . even after all that has happened. Call me crazy . . .