Program And Other Stuff

I'm continuing to set up my DQ program--it's a lot more difficult than I had thought.  There's just so much history--after all, they were born 78 years ago Monday--and my flash drive has a bunch a pictures on it. 
Interrupted the above to go to Wal-Mart for my renewed medications and run a few other errands.  Stopped beforehand at the library to ask if I could come in the afternoon to practice with the laptop and we made a date for 3:00.  When I got there, the substitute manager (Kelly is on vacation), Arlene, was so helpful.  After a BIG problem with the fact that I find it so difficult to use the non-mouse mode, she actually went a borrowed one from another computer.  She also set it up so I could speak from a podium, with the computer on a pull-out; that worked out so much better.
I ran through the whole program and was dismayed to realize it took more than an hour and a half, much too long.  I'll experiment with cutting some things, especially when they get complicated after the quints are adults.
Didn't get home until well after 5:00.  Threw a mediocre dinner in the microwave.  Aline called and I assured her I'd pick her up for rehearsal. Did so and we greeted cordially by Neil and the participants.  Stayed about an hour and a half, long enough to see a run-through of the first act.  It's shaping up, but I was surprised the players aren't off-book yet.
Home late (for me), so didn't get to bed until after 10:00.
I was so sorry to get an e-mail from Ellen that Tillie does indeed, have cancer and a particularly aggressive form.  The vet said she could remove part of her jaw and so on, but wisely, Ellen is not going to put the poor kitty through those horrors.  She'll keep her comfortable until she needs to say goodbye.  How I wish I could be with her through this.
WIDER:  From Chris Floyd's Empire Burlesque:
"Every week or so, more than 100 members of the government’s sprawling national security apparatus gather, by secure video teleconference, to pore over terrorist suspects’ biographies and recommend to the president who should be the next to die."
As Chris writes, "words fail" when contemplating this scene.  He cites what he calls "a love letter" in a NYTime piece.  It's here:
http://www.chris-floyd.com/
Yes, words fail and the heart sickens.