My mother is getting better, and should be home by tonight. My Sabbath dinner is in the oven, and lunch will be some sort of salad, or maybe leftover chicken. I haven't decided. Because I can't think at all.

I can't take care of my mother. We're supposed to do this joint siyyum tomorrow (it's a celebration following the completion of some major work. In this case, my synagogue divided the six books of Mishnah, which is the codification of Jewish law.) but it's raining and I haven't been to synagogue in weeks and I just want to sleep.

Next weekend, I'm running the con suite at a small filk convention, called Contata. I've done it before, but this is under the most adverse conditions yet - a less than competent chairman, a hotel that's extremely touchy about corkage, a con suite that might actually have *beds* in it, and a kosher crowd that seems to think I should be in charge of meals as well as snacks. Although I think I made it clear that I won't be. We'll bring enough food for ourselves for the weekend, and then what ever happens, happens.

Because I can't think right now at all. I don't even know how many bags of potato chips to buy.