Inane Chatter

I ran into a window today.  Smacked my forehead HARD.  Seriously, I have a bruise.  I had lunch at a restaurant with my supervisor today, and we left through the revolving door.  I put my sunglasses on while revolving (“while in the middle of the revolution” sounds more militant that what was happening) and tried to exit the door before I reached the opening.  The glass wasn’t THAT clean.  I’m just THAT stupid.

The knock on my head apparently killed some brain cells, too, ’cause words, thoughts, ideas…I don’t have them tonight.  I’m stealing an idea from MommyByDay and just posting a picture.  Or two.

These were the greatest jeans ever.  Unfortunately, this picture is eight years old, so even if I could remember the brand and style, I’m sure they don’t make them anymore.  Too bad.

Here’s Mom playing Marine:

I wouldn’t say no to this view from my window.

Or this one.

Well, that’s enough.  Gotta give Roxy her medicine and go to bed.  Off to the busy life I lead…

I could swear I’ve posted these two videos before (or at least linked to them), but I can’t find where, so here they are again.

First, from yesterday’s comments, a brilliantly edited trailer for Ferris Bueller’s Day Off that puts Cameron in the Ed Norton role from Fight Club. It’s awesome (and thanks to Greg for finding it).

Second, from several years ago, here’s the recut trailer for The Shining that makes the whole thing look like a feel-good movie.  I always get nervous watching it, but trust me – there’s nothing scary here.

Third, this recut trailer for Mary Poppins that scares the *&^! out of me every time I see it.  So much that I’m not watching it right now.  I’ll post it,  and I might watch it when the sun is shining, but certainly not now.  I keep going back to it, though, ’cause I love how terrifying this guy made Mary Poppins.  It’s awesome.

Last, I have to share this link from Spokeit’s post today.  The site is called Catalog Living, and the woman who runs it posts pictures from Pottery Barn catalogs and tells the story of the people who live there.  The one who live in the catalog.  They (the people who live in the catalog) are totally passive-aggressive, and the site is completely hilarious.  These two are my favorites (one and two) so far.

More than you already do, I mean.  The American Family Association (AFA – who I am totally NOT going to link to because I don’t want them to even think I might support them) is trying to organize a boycott of Home Depot because they (Home Depot, not the AFA) sponsor gay pride festivals and parades and provide insurance benefits to same-sex partners.  All reasons to shop there more, not less.

End of public service announcement.

Check this out – my favorite books combined with one of my favorite movies.  Thanks, Jenny!

I have to admit, I didn’t clean out my closet.  I looked through it, realized I really do wear most of what’s hanging in it, and got rid of one shirt.  Most of the clutter in there is made of shoes, totes, and random small overnight bags.  It was too intimidating over the weekend.

I do want to tell some stories about this vacation, but that would involve adding pictures, and have I mentioned how draining it is to upload pictures to this site?  I don’t have that kind of energy.  Some people at work were giving me a hard time for coming back from vacation on a Thursday (why not take the rest of the week off and come back on Monday?), and while I see their point, it’s totally awesome to go back to work on a Thursday.  Two-day work week!  The weekend is right around the corner.  And as fun as that vacation was (it was totally fun), I’m very glad to be home.  I love my bed.  And my dogs.  And my kitchen.  Well, I don’t love my kitchen, but it’s bigger than what we were working with in Georgia.  Not that I spent much time in it.

Okay, maybe this is going to be a little bit of a vacation post.  I was reading The Bloggess just now, and of course I’m laughing hysterically at today’s post (that should totally go without saying), and I had a similar experience over the weekend, and then I started writing the story in my head, so here it is.

Background: My family (Mom, Dad, brother, sister, me, assorted spouses, and one almost 5-year-old) decided to stay in a cabin in the mountains in northwest Georgia for a few days.  In the mountains.  In the woods.  Not in a clearing in the woods.  In the woods.  With me?  Okay.  ‘Cause this will become important.  John and I were supposed to arrive just before midnight Friday night (fly into Atlanta, rent a car, drive an hour and a half), but our flight was delayed (a lot) and then, only about 7 miles from the place, the road was blocked by a police cruiser because the power company was removing a tree from the power lines.  After about 20 minutes of sitting there (no map, no Internet connection to find a map), I finally asked the cop if there was another way to get where we were going.  There was, of course, and we finally got to the house.  In the woods.  At about 2:30 in the morning.  Oh, after we pulled into the wrong driveway.  ‘Cause it was a gravel road that was more of a track up the mountain.  In the very deepest dark.  Because it was in the woods!  And the power was out.  Dad met us at the right driveway with a flashlight and helped us get inside (where there were no lights, because the power was out) and find our bedroom.  With a flashlight.  Because there was no power.  Being up the mountain meant we were using well water, which gets into the house via pump.  Which totally doesn’t work when there’s no power.  So, you know, no flushing.  And bottled water for brushing teeth and washing faces and hands.  NO POWER!  But we were ready to collapse into bed (a bed we never collapsed into again after that night – I promise I’m getting to the point) when the power came back on, and so did every light in the house.  Anyway, most of that background was not really necessary, but let’s just say it illustrates how tired and ready for bed we were the next night, having only gotten about 5 hours of sleep the night before.

I was washing my face in the bathroom when I heard a very loud, somewhat shocked “JESUS CHRIST!” from the bedroom.  I came running and found John standing about three feet away from the foot of the bed, kinda pointing towards the pillow.  “There’s a scorpion.  IN the bed.”  “Can’t be.  Scorpions don’t live in Georgia, they live in Texas and New Mexico and deserts and stuff.”  “Zannah, it was a scorpion.  Go look.”  “Um, no.”  He twitched the covers a little and I saw something scurry under his pillow.  I got a little closer and saw it come out from under the pillow and go upside down under the mattress.  Kinda looked like a scorpion to me, but I wasn’t about to get close enough to really look.  Besides, it couldn’t be.  Either way, though, I didn’t want it in the bed.  John was pretty freaked out, and I wasn’t brave enough to get it, so I ran upstairs and grabbed Corey before he disappeared into his room.  Normally, I’m the one who finds the big ugly bug, and I’m the one who completely freaks out.  John walks into the situation knowing what to expect (I’ve already shrieked about the bug), so he’s usually able to handle it fairly calmly.  This time,  he was the one who found it after nearly LAYING DOWN ON TOP OF IT, so I think he was well within his rights to be a little less than rational.  Anyway, big brother came down, we both grabbed shoes, and I helped him lift up the mattress so he could WHACK the damn thing dead.  And then he put it in a plastic bag to show every person who came to the house over the next few days.  ‘Cause he’s a boy.  Thanks, Cor, for killing the scorpion!  After Corey left (with the scorpion, which he left on the table for everyone to find at breakfast), John and I discussed whether or not we’d be able to sleep in that bed.  I was actually fairly okay with it, I think because I’m not the one who found it, whereas all those other times I have been the one surprised by the spider or the centipede, I can’t sleep because of all the creepy-crawly nightmares.  According to John, that kind of inconsistency is one of my most endearing (or is that infuriating?) qualities.  Anyway, we did a thorough search of the room and the bed, checked all of the blankets, all of the sheets, took the pillows out of the pillowcases so we could shake them out, lifted up the mattress again, looked under the bed with the flashlight, then checked the drooping fabric underneath the box spring just in case they were nesting (isn’t that something you’ve heard of?  A nest of scorpions?  Maybe that’s vipers…), and when we didn’t find anything, we decided it was time to go to bed.  Gingerly.  And without much sleep.  Every night after that, we did the same bed check.

After the scorpion IN THE BED, the spiderwebs that apparently only took 10 minutes to string up across every doorway and sidewalk, and the millipede on the wall over our bed the last night (I called Dad to rescue us from that one), John and I have decided that although we like the idea of having a house in the woods, the woods will totally have to keep their distance.  Nature (the buggy part, at least) is not for me.

(I counted six, which I totally (seven) put in on purpose.  For reals.  Think I can go higher next time?)

Thanks to Dooce’s archives, I have songs and scenes from The Little Mermaid stuck in my head.  Speaking of her archives, though, sometime back in late 2007 (maybe early 2008), she pointed her readers to this site, created by a woman who rescued a baby coyote and raised it.  More importantly, she posted adorable pictures of the tiny thing.  I haven’t looked around that much yet, so I don’t know how she handles the issues that most likely came up as she raised a wild animal, but it must have been interesting.

From Nancy Nall’s post today, I found (and came late to the party, apparently, but that’s not unusual for me) I Write Like, which supposedly compares your writing samples to those of famous authors.  I plugged in a blog post from a week ago or so, and found that

Well, that’s pretty cool, but maybe it’s because I just finished reading an Agatha Christie mystery.  So I plugged in a different blog post and got

I write like
P. G. Wodehouse

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

Again, I can live with that.  So I plugged in another post.  Mario Puzo.  Hmm.  Another post: Vladimir Nabokov.  Um, yeah.  So I agree with Nancy – it’s gotta be random.  Fun, but not enlightening.  I googled it and found this from a NYT blog.  End of story, I think.

Zoot alors, I have missed one!

I’ve been meandering through my bookmarks and catching up on blogs I haven’t been reading lately ’cause sometimes I don’t even have time to read all the blogs on my blogroll and if I don’t have time to do that, how am I supposed to have time to keep up with the 80 blogs I have bookmarked?  Anyway, I’ve found some things worth sharing (there are always things worth sharing, every day, but I don’t always get there ’cause I’m selfish like that, you know?  I don’t always want to share.  Alternative explanation: I’m lazy.).

First, from my favorite Wombat, a totally awesome piano performance at the Mayo Clinic.

Jess’s wandering basil plant was returned to her.  That should be a band name: Jess’s Wandering Basil.  Or the name of a country estate.  Wandering Basil.  I like it.

I was reading through Dooce archives and came across this video of a herd of buffalo kicking some lion ass.  WAY cool and sometimes kinda hard to watch.

This woman is fascinating.  I need to get there more often.

Can’t find something?  It must be at the bottom of the ever-moving Asian food section.  This post cracked me up.  And while I’m plugging Scott Adams, I want a house like this.

SuzRocks, a sentence all by herself.  Even if she didn’t write entertaining posts about forbidding her husband to die and daring gangsters to get shot, she has my name and SHE SPELLS IT RIGHT.  I’d read her just for that.  We’ve got to stick together.

You can thank the band for all these links.  They’ve been rehearsing for the last two hours, and it’s a wonder I’m not typing the words to “I’m Bad, I’m Nationwide” all mixed in with the words to “Superstition” and “Cecilia”.  I’m retreating upstairs now, with a pillow for my head and my next book.  Crap.  I don’t know what I’m reading next.  I’m off to browse.

Ah ha!  Short stories by Ray Bradbury.  Sold.

I was home from work a little early today, so I decided to spend my free afternoon doing my favorite kind of housework: putting books away.  I shelved all of the new books, and since I had to put them in the right places (alphabetically), I had to move all of the books, shelf by shelf.  We used to have six free shelves on this last bookshelf in the dining room, but now we’re down to two and a half.  Another 60 books or so, and we’ll be out of shelf space again.  Poor us.  We’ll have to buy more bookshelves.

Go see Bridget. She had an alien encounter (and made Cleveland look gorgeous).  Then watch this. (The two things are not at all related.)  I laughed so hard I nearly cried.

We got up early this morning (5-ish) to run in the fog (which was really cool), and then John drove me to work on his way to spend the day visiting houses he used to live in and old high school haunts.  Work was not bad, and the day didn’t go nearly as slow as expected, mainly because I had a very lively class.  Lots of good-natured heckling.  I’ll take that over a zombie class any day.

Once we got back to Newport (work was in Narragansett – and I’m done for the week! Yay!), we went for a walk, planning on going to the Redwood Library to look around.  Got distracted by the giant stone tower thing in Touro Park, and John said he remembered a plaque or sign or something saying it was built by vikings or something, but we couldn’t find the sign.  On our way back up to the library, we passed the Newport Tower Museum.  We were looking at the pictures and posters in the window, and I noticed a guy on the inside coming towards that window.  Before I knew it, he’d bounced outside to come talk to us.  It’s his museum, and he’s done research and written books on that tower, all while trying to figure out who really built it.  Apparently, there are a bunch of theories, but most don’t hold water (according to him).  Anyway, he took us back over to it and pointed out all kinds of interesting things about it.  Long story short: he got us interested in it and we’re going to visit his museum tomorrow and let him tell us all the stuff he found out.  And probably end up buying his book (or books).  It really was cool, and the guy was SO enthusiastic.

After that, though, we decided to put off the Redwood Library until tomorrow, and we headed down to Thames Street to the Brick Alley Pub for dinner.  Very good, just like we remembered, and then we walked.  And walked.  And walked.  Just because.  It felt like forever, and we both wanted to turn around and head back to our inn, but for some reason we kept going.  And when we finally turned around, it felt like we’d never get back.  Of course, we did, eventually, and I just mapped it.  It was only 2.5 miles.  So we’re wimps.  It’s not even that late, but we’re both really tired.  John says that’s because it’s been 40 hours since we got up this morning.  He’s probably right.

Go check out Curiosity.  She’s hilarious on the subject of her hearing loss (which I’m very sorry to hear about, but am delighted to read a post about).  (Does that make me insensitive?)

It should go without saying, since I link to practically all of her posts, but The Bloggess is one of the funniest people on the Internet.  Truly and consistently funny.  She made me laugh at almost every sentence of her post today, so, you know, go read.  And laugh.  I’m going to put my walked-out feet up and go to bed.

I’m picking John up from the airport in about two hours, so this has to be quick (’cause I’m starving and I’m running out of time to eat dinner).  Very excited that he’ll be here tonight.  I still have to work tomorrow, but I’m sure the day will fly by.  (Except it won’t now that I’ve said that.  I should know better than to jinx myself like that.)

So hungry!  So rather than write something funny, pithy, or otherwise interesting, I’ll leave you with a couple of links to other places.  If you haven’t visited The Bloggess in a couple of days, go now.  She just became the craziest person in the shrink’s office, and once again, she had me laughing my head off.  Also, Desire to Inspire posted some pictures of this really cool loft I’d like to live in, if I were ever living in a major city again.

That’s all I’ve got for now ’cause I’m HUNGRY and I’m going out.  (Did I mention I’m hungry?)  Later!

Call me lazy (and it would be true), but I don’t have the energy to write a real post, so here’s one full of links to other things.  I did do something today, and I took lots of pictures, and frankly, it’s the thought of posting pictures that’s wearing me out, so that will have to wait.

So go visit Tricia (who’s engaged!) as she writes about not rushing through life, and Tokenblogger, who’s stuck on the night shift (I feel her pain – night watches were always the worst).

Oh, I haven’t mentioned my rental car this time, although maybe that’s because it’s hardly worth mentioning.  I’m driving a Pontiac G6 (power everything – yay!) and there are two things it does that bug me a little.

1. When I slow down or come to a stop, the volume of the radio turns down.  On its own.  Like it’s possessed.  What if I didn’t want it to get quieter?  On the other hand, it gets louder when I go faster, and I don’t have a problem with that…
2. When I shut off the engine, the doors unlock.  On their own.  ALL of them.  What if I’m in a bad neighborhood?  Maybe I’m worried that someone will jump in the car and force me to drive somewhere at gunpoint.  But really, what if that happened?  I really think I should be in charge of the locks.  On the other hand (there’s always another hand), I like that all the doors lock automatically when I put the car in gear.

Can’t I have it exactly the way I want it?

I watched City Hall tonight, a political thriller from the mid-90s with Al Pacino and John Cusack.  It was…okay.  I think it might be better than that, but I couldn’t get past John Cusack’s bad accent.  I love John Cusack, I really do, but he can’t do accents.  His Louisiana drawl was in and out and when it was in, it sounded ridiculous.  Really distracting.

I’m going to bed extremely early tonight (like in half an hour), hoping to sleep well and get up early.  Two alarms.  And maybe a wake-up call.

“Googley-elmo” totally made watching two hours of John Cusack’s bad accent worth it.  (Yes, I know they’re not related.)  Can’t. Stop. Laughing.

Doesn’t this make you want to go to Iceland?  (I’m being sincere, I promise.)

Inspired by Iceland Video from Inspired By Iceland on Vimeo.

I found that video here and here.  You should visit them.

Will it be all sunshine and flowers from now on?  Let’s go with yes.  Why be realistic when I can be optimistic? Seriously, that weight on my shoulders?  Gone.  I’m not saying I love my job or anything now, but holy hand grenade of Antioch, do I feel better.

I don’t ever want to go here.  I had nightmares after Jurassic Park and I was half-convinced raptors were going to leap through my bedroom window and kill me, so a forest full of dinosaurs and GIANT SNAKES is not the place for me.

Curiosity blames her absence on Nicholas Cage.  Lots of things can be blamed on him.  I’m just glad she’s back.

One last thing: the last paragraph of this review of the new Robin Hood movie made me laugh.  Twice.

Now I’m going to bed.  Sorry for the choppy post.  (I tried to call it a chippy post.  Not sure what that means, exactly, but my spellcheck thinks it’s a word.)

I bought a donut today.  The woman asked me if I wanted a receipt.  I said yes, and I think you know why.

I’m in the airport now, waiting for the plane to arrive.  It’s a day early (me going home, not the plane – I’m sure the plane will be right on time (Okay, no, it won’t, but it won’t be a day early.)), and because it’s work-related, I don’t think it’s a good idea if I go into why I get to go home early.  But it’s not bad news or anything.  So, you know, nothing to worry about.

I had the BEST airport food when I got here.  I know, crazy, right?  Well, it’s not really airport food any more than any other restaurant in an airport is airport food, but still.  UFood Grill.  I’ve never heard of it, but there’s one near my gate and I got my lunch there.  It was GOOD.  (I just checked locations and they do seem to be mostly located in airports, so I guess I was right to characterize it as airport food.)  I had the Chopstick Chicken Bowl, which is chicken, broccoli, and carrots in a teriyaki thai chili sauce, all over steamed brown rice.  Spicy.  And good.  And healthy!  (Not greasy, for real.  I watched them make it.)  What a surprise.

I’ll be home in less than three hours, and I get to stay home for a whole week.  More than that!  Yay!

A few links to keep you entertained while I fly home:

The dishwasher was cold.  She cracks me up.

Jess found a baby chicken cam (similar to the puppy cam from a few years ago).  Go!  Look!  Melt into a puddle from all the cutesy cuteness!  (And while you’re there, steal her recipes for homemade strawberry ice cream and arugula pesto.)

I’d be a terrible host if I didn’t pass on a couple of fun things I found on my favorite sites over the last couple of days.

First, go visit Bridget and check out the video (and song) for “Tightrope”.  The rap section in the middle (short) doesn’t do anything for me, but I love the rest of it.  The dancing is fantastic.  My favorite part is around the 3:20 mark.

Second, from NN.C, this gem of a slideshow.  (Did I just call something a gem?  What decade are we living in?  I’m sorry I couldn’t hear you.  I’ll have to get my ear-trumpet.)  I can’t believe some of these are real.

Third, cake can save your life!

And fourth, the answer to “where do cursors come from?”

I don’t have anything else to share (beyond my pounding headache, and I don’t think anyone really wants to share that), so I’m going to spend the rest of the evening with my dinner, my book, and my bathtub.  Well, the hotel’s bathtub.  I didn’t bring mine with me.

John left Roxy with the vet for observation today, and she had another couple of seizures this afternoon.  When I last talked to John, he was racing out of the office to get there before the doctor left so he could talk to her about Roxy.  I just finished putting together a list with dates and details of all the seizures she’s had in the last year and a half.  It’s a long list.  John is more and more convinced that Riley isn’t being a nice doggie when he goes after her neck with his teeth (or “holds her down with the only tools he has at his disposal so she won’t hurt herself.”  However you like to look at it).  He might be trying to kill the demon that’s taken over his darling Roxy.  I’m waiting by the phone for John to call, either from the vet or when he gets home.  And I’m hungry, so I’m going to eat while I wait.  Nothing particularly entertaining is coming to mind, so I’ll just go away and fret.  And eat.

Update: John is home with both dogs, and Roxy’s doing okay for now.  John has extra medicine and instructions on what to do if she has more seizures in the next couple of days.  He’s going to try to work from home tomorrow so he can keep an eye on her.  I feel better after talking to him (and after eating), and then I went to The “Blog” of “Unnecessary” Quotation Marks and couldn’t stop giggling.  On to Passive Aggressive Notes for more giggling.  Hire taller staff!

And here: this sounds like a huge undertaking, but it would probably end up being the only cookbook anyone who isn’t already a brilliant chef would ever use again.  Too bad no one is working on it.

Yesterday afternoon, I went to DC to meet several local members of the Dooce Community.  Spokeit, a regular commenter here (say hi, everybody) organized it (thank you!), and six of us showed up at Busboys and Poets to hang out (one with baby and brother-in-law in tow).  We talked about everything from ticks to strapless dresses (and puffed sleeves!), and I had a really good time.  I didn’t stay long (about two hours) because I didn’t want to spend most of my last day at home away from John, but I would like to do it again.  Maybe host it next time?  I realized, after I left of course, that even though I brought my camera, I didn’t take a single picture.  I HAVE to get better about that.

Oh, and Spokeit, guess what song was playing on the radio as I left DC?  That’s ri-ight, the ubiquitous (big word points) “Hey, Soul Sister”.  The universe is telling me (and everyone within range of a radio, Sirius or otherwise) to go to the Train concert this summer.

Last thing about yesterday: as I left the restaurant and headed across the street, a guy I’ve never seen before flagged me down and tried to pick me up.  !  He was carrying a couple of cloth Safeway bags full of groceries, and he started chatting me up as we walked down the block.  !!  Was I from around there (no, I told him practically West Virginia), could he have my phone number (“Well, I’m married…” “You’re married?!?”  “… and I was just on my way to pick him up.”), can he call me anyway and we’d just be friends and do I live with my husband (“Of course I live with him.”  “Then I guess I shouldn’t call.”), and then he chatted about the party he was planning for the Lakers game tonight, and then he crossed the street to his apartment building.  And I heaved a sigh of relief because I really don’t know how to handle that kind of situation.  That sounds ridiculous, I know (it’s just talking), but people don’t approach me on the street and start talking unless they need directions or something.  And people certainly don’t hit on me.  Or whatever that was.

And now, let’s add to the list of, shall we say, interesting people I meet on airplanes.  On my flight to Atlanta today, I had an aisle seat in an exit row that only had one other seat (on the window).  A quick glance at my seatmate showed a guy a little older than me, tall, slender, with majorly muscled arms.  (He was wearing a black tank top.)  He was on the phone and was doing that thing some guys do with their voices when they’re talking to women, sort of softening it.  (Did I mention he was good-looking?  He was.  Very.)   Of course I was eavesdropping (it only looked like I was reading), and it sounded like he was talking to his mother.  The flight attendant came by to make sure we were comfortable with the responsibilities that go along with sitting in an exit row, and as she left, he turned to me and said (with a very cute grin), “If it comes to that, I will eat that door.”  It was funny, we laughed, and it turns out he used to be a Marine.  Recon.  Badass.  That helps to explain the tattoos on his arms.  He didn’t seem like your typical macho Marine, though.  He came across more like the perfect sensitive Marine, the ones that only exist in the movies.  He said he was a writer and had recently been published.  What kind of book?  Philosophy.  Oh, and he’s a physical trainer?  I can see that.  And an actor?  Busy guy.  Anything I might have seen?  HBO and The History Channel?  Wow.  And he works for veterans’ groups.  And plans to start a gym in New York that will double as a rehab/counseling center where ex-soldiers conditioned to violence can work on moving past all that.  And apparently, he’s for real.  I wasn’t sure for a while.  He’s this guy.  Also, this guy.  And he’s trying to decide whether he wants to work on a Discovery Channel project next (“One Shot, One Kill” – he was a sniper) or something with Spike TV or one of three other TV projects.  And all of that came AFTER he talked about the training and the killing people and the violent episodes and close calls and how he worries about the guys in his unit who may not have been as strong as he is and can’t break away from the mercenary work they’re doing now that they’re out of the military.  WAY more information (and way more intensely delivered) than I was expecting to take in from a guy I’ve never met before on an hour and a half-long flight to Atlanta.  But he was nice, and he’s got a lot of projects going on, but the ones he seems to take the most seriously are the ones helping his friends and helping veterans.  He was sincere and had been through a lot, and I got off the plane wanting to help him (after I talked to John to hash out how strange the whole experience was).  Oh.  Oh!  How could I leave this part out?  So he’s worked with HBO (he played himself in “Generation Kill”, which started as a book by a reporter who was embedded with his unit in Iraq), and he’s met Ridley Scott and he’s done work in England and HE’S FRIENDS WITH EMMA THOMPSON!  He was her personal trainer for a bit.  How cool is that?  I’m two degrees away (or is that one?) from Emma Thompson!

That’s not all that difficult for me, since I only went there if I got an email prompting me to, but I read this today (got there from here – NN.c is one of my daily blogs, but with no time to mess around on the Internet at work anymore (having my computer screen projected onto a big white wall while teaching a class makes it pretty much impossible to get away with anything not work-related), it’s been harder for me to visit regularly.  Also, I’m a little intimidated by the regular readers/commenters.  Their comments are never inane.), and I was convinced to delete my account.  So I’m in the two-week waiting period.  If I log in during the next two weeks, my account will be re-activated and I’ll have to delete it again.  Pain in the ass.

That aside, I spent most of today feeling pretty good because I was wearing a CUTE OUTFIT.  CUTE OUTFITS are known for their ability to inspire confidence and all manner of good vibes and other happiness-related goodness, and I highly recommend finding yourself one.  Or five.  Or a hundred.  Right now, I’m at…maybe two.  Today’s CUTE OUTFIT involved a dark grey pencil skirt and a plum-colored tank top and cardigan.  All from Ann Taylor, bought last December when I went shopping with Mom and her friends.

While checking out my other daily blogs (otherwise known as Blogs I Really Want To Check Out Daily, But Don’t Always Make It To, or BIRWTCOD,BDAMIT – appropriately, the acronym ends with “damit”), I found this house.  Wow.  Just wow.  Take a look at the Swedish houses in the posts before and after that one, too.  I need to hire a decorator make a lot money and hire a decorator win the lottery play the lottery.

Check out this adorable picture.  Roxy used to ask to be picked up when she was a puppy, and I miss that a little.  It’s probably just as well she got too big (and grew out of it – thank goodness.  I don’t need a 55-pound dog asking to be picked up.), or I’d carry her everywhere and she’d be fatter than ever.

Today is the last day of class (for this week).  It sort of feels like summer’s coming, like it’s the end of the school year.  Everyone’s getting a little antsy, but more relaxed at the same time, so it’s kinda fun.  And yet, it’s only the end for them.  Not so much for me.  I’m here again tomorrow, and then I start a new class next week.  Same thing, different day.  They go back to work, so I guess it’s not really all that great for them, either.  I’m trying to enjoy the day, and mostly I’m able to, but then I remember how many more times I have do it.

And then I look at adorable pictures of puppies, and I’m ready to pick back up after lunch.    (Too cutesy?  Too bad.)

After yesterday’s post, I can hardly skip a day, but (enter fake French accent) my muse, she is gone.

Of course, then I went and read Curiosity’s post from today, and now I feel like a slacker (a little).  She has actual reasons to not post.  I do not.

So maybe I’ll stick with a disjointed, kind of random post.  John loves me, and I know this for sure because he always warns me before he opens and closes the ironing board (it makes a horrible screeching sound that I cannot stand).

Did you know I could command the Internet?  Okay, not the whole Internet.  And not command, really, so much as influence.  In a tiny way.  ‘Cause one very nice lady wanted to make sure I had something to read today, apparently.    (Did I mention it’s all about me?*  Of course it is.)

Last link, ’cause it’s late, and I should be asleep: Today’s XKCD comic.  Tomorrow, I’m going to interpret everything John says as code.

*Clarification: “..it’s all about me” refers to my universe, not Token Blogger‘s post.

Okay, okay.  I accept that what happened to me yesterday morning was a panic attack, and I’ll call the doctor in the morning.

TV, anyone?

I love the theme song for Treme (on HBO).  John and I haven’t decided if we want to keep watching it, but we had to watch the first two episodes.  Required viewing in this family.  Why?  Check out the concierge in the second episode.  She’s related to ME!  How cool is that?  The concierge in question (who Steve Zahn waved at!) is my soon-to-be-famous sister-in-law.  So, you know, kind of related to me.  Close enough.

Candy, I thought you were great.  Even though we were watching for you, we were caught by surprise when you did appear, and then there was much squealing and pausing and rewinding and rewatching.  (I’ll take credit for most, if not all, of the squealing.)  We couldn’t possibly delete the episode from our DVR, of course.  We’ll have to show it to everyone who comes over.  And we started with Jess on Saturday night.  So for the next…I don’t know how long, everyone who enters the house will have to watch Candy’s scene in Treme.    You think I’m kidding?  Just wait.

Go visit Curiosity. She’s listing her priorities for life (and making fun of Victoria’s Secret models).  Who can resist?

You know what bugs me?  (In a little way, not a big way.)  Finding a blog I like, and then realizing they don’t update every day.  And it’s not just that they don’t update every day (’cause that’s okay.  People are allowed to lead busy lives and do other things and NOT update the blog every single day.  Yes, you have my permission.), but then they don’t update every few days, and then it’s been a week, and then two months.  It’s so disappointing!  I bookmarked you because I liked you!  I liked to read you!  And then you abandoned me.  How could you?  *sob*  (Mom, I’m not talking about you, since I talk to you every day, and you tell me the things you would blog about.  I feel up to date on you.  But if I didn’t actually know you, and I found your blog some other way, then yes, I’d be talking about you.  (Was that too harsh?  I didn’t mean to be harsh.))  I have five or six blogs bookmarked that fall in this category, and since I already don’t have the time read all the blogs I bookmark (but I really want to), I may have to clear those few out.