*muffled cursing from the next room*

Doug had a panic attack at work today. He's been getting more and more stressed out lately, exhibiting more obsessive-compulsive disorder behaviors. Today he had a pounding heart, was dizzy, short of breath, thought he was going to die: your standard anxiety attack. Pretty much everyone I know has had them. And I get it now. I've been there in the times of the peoples lives when it has happened three times now, and I see the link: when you're used to having serious emotional problems and finally start getting over them, then you get really uncertain about the world and your place in it. And you screw everything up trying to make it feel 'normal' where screwed up = normal.

On a totally different note, the job hunt is going well, and I should soon have money to pay for shipping several care packages across the country. Beads, Dad's coat, metamucil: soon all will be had by people who will appreciate them more than I do. In exchange for sending Dad's boyhood coat and one of Larry's flannel shirts, I'm hoping to get pieces of several people's t-shirts for a family quilt I'm making this fall. The size of my folly measures nine by nine inches square . . . If you are sewingly-artistic, please comment me tips on how to not screw this up, or send me links. The library is no longer a research option, and I really need to post that piteous tale some other time.

Love Y'all.