general

Of dentists and dogs

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“Now relax” should be banned from all dentists’ vocabularies.  They should get fined every time they’re caught saying it.  Sure, I’ll relax now that you’ve poked me in the cheek with a giant needle, shoved a giant rubbery tray thingy between my teeth to hold my mouth open, shined a light in my eyes, and started up the drill.  Totally relaxed, no problem, taking a nap.  (I wish I could have napped.)  It was awful.  All three hours of it.  (Would’ve been a FANTASTIC nap.)  My dentist is great and all, very nice, friendly staff, but that doesn’t mean I look forward to going.   (I know, I know – who does?)  And yesterday is why.

This morning I found Roxy in the bathroom with the door closed.  No idea how she got there.  I worked from home today, and around mid-morning, she had a seizure.  (She’s fine now.)  I usually keep a pretty close eye on her during her recovery phase (she rambles around the first floor, slobbering on everything, bumping into the walls, the furniture, getting stuck under the table – she tried to take a chair with her, legs first – and I try to keep her out of the water bowl, keep her from knocking things over, from slobbering on the books on the bottom shelves…the important stuff), but as she gets closer to normal, I start going back to other things.  I checked my email, realized I hadn’t heard her stumble into anything for a minute, and went looking.  Not in the dining room, not in the kitchen, not in the hall, not in the family room…but I could hear her breathing.  The kind of breathing she does when she’s head first into a wall and her nose is getting smushed.  (Happens a lot – I know that noise.  To her, people.  Happens to her. During recovery.  Geez.)  Followed the sound of her breathing, found her in the bathroom.  Behind the closed door, under the pedestal sink.  Maybe she needed some alone time, but I don’t understand how the door closed behind her.  She’s not that clever.  Certainly not in that state.  Wish she could tell me.

Lunch is the answer to everything

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This particular Tuesday has a weird vibe.  It’s just after 10:30am.  I’ve been to the gym and joined two conference calls (a daily occurrence now – who the hell wants to start every day with two conference calls?).  Neither of those things are out of the ordinary.  I had some coffee.  Haven’t eaten anything yet, which may be contributing to the feeling (I can hear a croissant whispering my name), but what else?

Part 1: The windows are open.  It’s August.  It’s supposed to be hot and sticky and grossly muggy.  I’m not complaining – I’m thrilled to hear the breeze in the trees and the summer insects buzzing or droning or cricketing or whatever is they do, thrilled to have turned the A/C off for the first time in months.  It’s just weird.  Makes it feel like early fall and I’m not quite ready for early fall.

Part 2: I’ve already talked to Mom and Dad.  Before breakfast!  It’s throwing my whole schedule off.

Part 3: I have gotten things DONE already.  Left messages, rescheduled appointments, refilled prescriptions…I’m on a roll.

[Several hours later]

I was on a roll.  A few hours ago, the sunlight was mid-morning fresh, the birds were chirping, and the breeze was breezing.  Since then, I’ve gotten bogged down in the things I’m supposed to be doing (I was doing them before, but everything was light! and cheerful! and oh, what a beautiful morning!), the cool fresh air that was tickling my elbows turned hot, and the sunlight turned stale.

I can still turn this around.  There’s time.  The solution?  Lunch!  A turkey sandwich with cucumber slices on toast.  Seriously.  I don’t think I’m asking too much of one sandwich.  I get cranky when I’m hungry.  Lunch will save the day.

Do avocados grow on trees?

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At some point in your life, you or your parents have stuck toothpicks into an avocado pit and suspended it over the edge of a glassful of water.  I know you have.  You’re expecting it to germinate.  (That’s what it’s called when it grows roots, right?  Or something.)  Well, I think it’s a myth.  A myth!  (“Yeth?”)  We have two sad-looking avocado pits being tortured on our kitchen windowsill which are never going to put out little rooty tendrils.  Honestly, it looks cruel and unusual.  This shouldn’t be legal.  Rescue the avocado pits!  But what’s the alternative?  For avocado pits in my house (and in most, I imagine), it’s either suffer being half-drowned and poked with sticks or go out with the trash.  If I were an avocado pit, I’m not sure which I’d choose.  Maybe the trash.  Then I could hope to find a friendly landfill.  I suppose we could plant them, but isn’t the whole point of the torture?  Start the roots and then plant them?  You know, they’d probably start to grow if I left them in the pantry long enough.  That’s what happens to my potatoes and onions.  I’m a regular farmer, I am.

I melted, and then I got my nails done

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It’s been a busy weekend.  Kind of.  Busy in a good way since I was able to do a bunch of things I wanted to do while still getting most of the things I had to do done also.  Except for the store.  Didn’t make it to the store.  But I did lots of other things, and I got up early (too early – I’m a little tired) both days.

Yesterday, I went into DC to meet a family from France (you’re welcome, Mom) at Eastern Market.  We met at nine, chatted for a while (I’m afraid I babbled at them), wandered the market a little, and then I sent them off to the Capitol, the Archives, a couple of museums, and Kramerbooks.  Nice people.  It was only a little awkward. I wandered the market by myself for a few minutes after they left (bought some cute jewelry, peaches, and sausages) and then I poured myself into the car to go home.  It was only maybe 10:30 or close to 11, but it was crazy hot.  I was melting.

I went back out shortly after I got home, though not into the sun.  It was time, once again, to make the trek (less than a mile – great trek) to my new favorite nail salon (the one I went to in May that’s all crisply white and peaceful and wonderful).  I got the spa pedicure, just because.  They slathered my legs in a purple mud mask that had a chilling effect from the knees down and then wrapped both legs in hot towels.  What a totally weird feeling.  Chilling cold on the inside, but wrapped in steamy hot towels.  Kinda neat.  My legs feel super smooth.  While my nails were drying, I got distracted by the display of nail polishes on the wall.

I’m itching to organize them by color.  Is that weird?  When I ‘m deciding what color to use, I always grab a handful in the same color family and then choose the exact shade I want.  It’d be much easier if they were already on the shelves that way.

After nearly two hours in the salon (feet and hands – it was wonderful), I came home only to turn right around again and head to Target and Borders with John.  Oh!  So Borders is closing.  I’m sure you’ve heard.  That’s depressing.  It was packed yesterday afternoon, too.  All those depressed people taking advantage of the liquidation sale.  I picked up the new George R.R. Martin book, even though I’m super annoyed with him.  It’s been six years since the last book in the series came out, and at the time, he was saying that he’d basically already written this one.  SIX YEARS.  I’ve already had one author die on me before finishing a series.  I see no reason to encourage him to take six years between books, with no end to the series in sight, no matter how good I think the series is.  You may not believe me, but I really wasn’t going to buy this one until it turned into a bargain book or until the next next one came out.  But it was 40% off, and I have the others in hardcover (I cared more WAY back then, and he hadn’t jerked his fans around as much yet), so I caved.  I feel slightly ashamed of myself.

Anyway, today I got up early to run (attempting (and failing) to beat the heat, although today was nothing like yesterday), helped John with the lawn, saw the last Harry Potter movie (more on that later, I think – it was both really cool and not what I’d hoped for), and now I would like a nap.

Grades and grudges

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I feel like I’ve had a big test every week for the past month.  I’m not that far off, actually.  My statistics midterm is tomorrow, and now that I’ve finished the fourth quiz (and covered all of the material that will be on the midterm), I feel much better about it than I did about the calculus exams.  We’ll see how I feel when it’s over.  Speaking of things being over, I got a B in that calculus course.  I’ve never been so happy to see a B.  Maybe now I can find my routine again.

I got stood up yesterday by the loan officer from the bank that holds our mortgage.  I raced home so I could be there when he called (we want to refinance), sitting down (not in the car) and not distracted, and guess who never called?  I was a little annoyed.  A lot annoyed.  He called this morning to apologize and reschedule for this afternoon.  I’ve decided not to hold a grudge.  I’m carrying enough of those.  How many is enough?  Or too many?  I only have grudges against three people, and I think they’re justified.  I know Margaret agrees.  It might be a little immature, and maybe it would be healthier to forgive and forget, but since it doesn’t affect my day-to-day life, do I have to?

This time it was completely my fault

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Have I told you the story about getting pulled over by the police right after getting my first car?  Some of you know this already.  Here’s the short version:

I was 16 years old, it was summer, and Mom and Dad had just bought me my first car (a 1988 black hatchback Toyota Corolla named Cricket).  They immediately went on vacation near the Finger Lakes in New York.  Far far away from home in Lexington, KY.  Corey was I-don’t-know-where, but not living at home anymore, so it doesn’t really matter, and Mel and I were staying by ourselves.  One day, I went to pick her up, and on our way home, we got pulled over.  I was freaking out, Mel was trying to get me to breathe, and I noticed the police officer look at the back of my car as he came to the window.  I knew I hadn’t been speeding (I was a paranoid beginner driver), so I thought maybe I had a tail light out or something.  Short version, right.  My sticker (the one that has the year on it) looked to the police officer like it had been torn off somehow.  I didn’t have the registration in the car (too new, I guess), and he gave me a citation and told me to take care of it.  This was before cell phones, so I couldn’t call Mom and Dad, and when they eventually called us (it must have been that night, but in my memory it took them three days), they told me to check the mail for the registration and sticker.  Nothing yet.  The next morning, I was on my way to pick Mel up again, and as I made a left turn out of our neighborhood, I got pulled over again.  As the police officer got out of her car, I saw her check the license plate just like the last guy, so I had the citation from the day before in my hand when she got to my window.  I explained everything, showed her the citation, told her I was taking care of it, and she let me go.  But this was traumatizing.  Pulled over twice in two days, for something that I maintain was not my fault.  John wants to know why I was driving the car without the registration and I can only claim ignorance.  Registration?  Stickers?  My parents gave me the keys.  I didn’t ask any questions.  End of story: the registration came in the mail, I put the sticker on the plate, and took care of the citation downtown.  I’ve never gotten a ticket (that one I thought I’d get from the red light camera in DC never came), and I’ve only been pulled over once (for rolling through a stop sign in my neighborhood), and the deputy sheriff let me off with a warning.

Fast forward to today.  Right after I left work, I mean right after I left – it was after the very first turn I made – I heard the whoop of the siren and saw flashing lights.  I pulled over.  The very nice Deputy Sheriff Diaz came up to my window and told me my registration is expired.  I said something clever like, “Oh?”  He asked me what I thought he was pulling me over for, and I said, “I thought maybe I” stop talking stop talking stop talking “ran that stop sign.”  Damn.  I’m incapable of shutting up.  Thankfully, he said “No, you were fine there.”  And then I remembered that I had to wait for traffic to clear before making that right, so I must have stopped.  Anyway, he asked for my registration, and I went rummaging for it even though at this point I knew damn well I hadn’t renewed it.  John and I had just talked about it a few days ago.  Why didn’t I do it then?  Whatever.  I played dumb a little and discovered last year’s registration.  It expired in May.  Ouch.  He took my license and sat in his car looking up whatever they look up that takes so freaking long.  I was watching him in the rearview mirror and after a while, I saw an unmarked car with lights going pull up behind him.  What the hell?  Did he call in for back-up?  What’s going on?  Since I was staring at the flashing lights behind me, I didn’t see him come back, so when he appeared at my window again, I jumped a mile.  He apologized for startling me, and I gestured to the unmarked car.  “Do we need back-up for this?”  He laughed (thank God – I really should just shut up) and said there was an accident a little ways back.  Doesn’t explain why that guy showed up here, but whatever.  It wasn’t for me.  Anyway, he gave me the citation, told me I could either pay early or go to court, show my renewed registration, and there’s a 90% chance the judge would drop the charges.  I’ll see how much the fine is and then decide.  Then he told me to drive carefully and he sent me on my way.

About 4 miles closer to home, I looked in my rearview mirror to see another county sheriff’s car change from the left lane into my lane.  There went the whoop of the siren and the lights.  I pulled over.  Guess what?  He looked at my license plate.  He got to my window, asked for license and registration, and before I could reach for them, he said he was pulling me over because of my expired sticker.  Big surprise, although this time I was speeding a little.  (Maybe 7 over the speed limit.  People in the left lane were going faster than me.)  I picked up the citation that was still sitting on my passenger seat and handed it to him.  “Sir, I was pulled over for that not five minutes ago.”  He checked the time on the citation, checked his watch, smiled a little, and told me he wouldn’t give me another ticket.  Damn right he won’t.  Can they even do that?  I told him I’d take care of it as soon as I got home and spent the rest of the drive home half-convinced he was going to radio one of his buddies to keep an eye out for my car and pull me over again.

No more incidents.  And my registration has been renewed.  How crazy is it that, with one exception, the only times I’ve been pulled over have been for that tiny little sticker AND that I got pulled over twice in a very short period of time in both instances?  Totally crazy.  Loony bin crazy.  Spiders in roller skates crazy.

Not even close

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What were my goals for this past weekend?  Right.

  1. Complete two statistics quizzes
  2. Run six miles
  3. Buy groceries
  4. Go to Target
  5. Weed the flower beds

Out of five things, I managed to do only one.  ONE.  That’s pathetic.  Statistics is way more time-consuming that I expected.  I didn’t even make it to the first of those two quizzes.  I’m still doing the homework problems. I did run my six miles, but the rest of my list was left undone.

I hate that.

Dreaming big or maybe dreaming cozy. Or dreaming austere. But I’d probably decorate towards cozy.

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I don’t know what made me think of it today, but I found myself googling converted barns and I found this site.  Oh my god.  Converted barns all over Europe.  Like, for instance, this one.  How cool would that be?  In a similar vein, I think living in a converted church (like friends of Mom’s who I couldn’t name if you put a gun to my head), would be awesomesauce.  (I saw one the other day at Desire to Inspire.)  (That site makes me happy and sad and wistful and jealous all at the same time.)

Why can’t we be crazy rich?  I’d do good things with my money, I promise!  With all my free time and much of my money, I’d pay extra taxes and volunteer at hospitals and give blood all the time and start foundations to help the homeless  and the starving and the dyslexic and the diseased.  And on the side, I’d live in really cool houses and travel a lot.  Angelina Jolie does it.  I totally would.

That was not my point when I started.  I’d like to live in a converted barn.  And I’d raise my hypothetical, non-existent kids in a barn.  Because that would be awesome.

Bonfire

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There’s probably an HOA regulation against it (or a county ordinance or an actual law or something), but sometimes I think it would be kinda convenient if we could lug everything out of the basement and burn it in the backyard.  Except the washer and dryer.  And the dog crates.  And the drum sets, amps, guitars, studio equipment, and other musical paraphernalia.  And the books.  Everything else, though – who needs it?  It’s not stuff we use often, if ever, and we’ve already combed through it looking for stuff to donate, so why are we still holding on to it?  Some it is paper – things that should be filed and held onto for a while.  I started that project over a year ago; I’d like to finish it some day.  We have an exercise bike I don’t use – I could easily get rid of that.  John has a weight bench, but he uses that sometimes.  What else?  I really don’t know.  But there’s a lot of crap down there.

In other news, I have no news because I still haven’t gotten my midterm grade and I decided not to bug my professor because why?  I don’t know.  I just decided not to bug him.  It hasn’t even been a week since I took the test.  I can be patient.  For a couple more days.

I’m considering cutting out caffeine.  Cutting back certainly.  Possibly cutting it out altogether.  I’ve been drinking too much of the stuff lately.  Today alone: 1 cup of tea with breakfast at home, 1 cup of coffee mid-morning at work, and another cup mid-afternoon.   TOO MUCH.  I don’t know if I can start tomorrow, though.  I’ve got an 8am meeting downtown, so I’ll need something or I’ll fall asleep on the way in.  And Thursday I’ll be exhausted from Wednesday’s very late night….I’ll start Friday.  You believe me, right?  How is it that I got through four years in the Navy without a coffee habit only to be beaten by a regular 9-5 job?  Hm.  The answer may be in the question.

Paging Quality Control. Come in, Quality Control. Hello? Who’s in charge of Quality Control around here?

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Let’s try this free association/stream-of-consciousness thing again.  Damn, it’s hard to spell consciousness.  How much can I write with few interruptions in 12 minutes?  Tonight I won’t get much (if any) studying done unless I read statistics while I eat dinner or before I fall asleep.  That’s maybe not a good idea (reading statistics before bed) ’cause I might not retain any of it.  It’s Monday, and Monday means Muscle Blast class followed by Kukuwa.  Unless it’s last week, when Monday meant cleaning out Roxy’s crate and then giving her a bath (SOMEbody had an accident).  And I skipped Muscle Blast last Wednesday because I was studying for the midterm.  I’ll miss class this Wednesday because John and I will be on our way to Baltimore for the U2 concert.  Because, oh yeah, we bought last minute tickets for the U2 concert in Baltimore on Wednesday night.  Terrible seats, but it’ll be cool to see them.  Even if it is the exact same tour we saw them on a year and a half ago.  Have I mentioned I haven’t gotten my midterm grade back yet?  I could have sworn that the instructor said he’d get them back to us before the last withdrawal date.  The last withdrawal date was yesterday.  No midterm grade.  I HAVE TO KNOW.  Driving me crazy with all the not-knowing.  I could email him and ask, but I don’t want to bug him.  Today.  I’ll email tomorrow.  I’m not a stalker.  I’m just needy.  Like my dog, who has decided to live under the dining room table from now on.  I don’t know why, but lately, if you’re looking for Riley, he can be found under the dining room table.  Thought you should know.

Not so good with plants

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I’m not a gardener.  I like to look at them, love green lawns and pretty flower beds, but I’m not all that interested in doing the work to make them look that way.  I’m not very good at keeping plants alive.  So at work, I don’t try.  I bought a fake plant from IKEA to add some color to my very gray desk.

My little cubicle has terrible lighting.

It’s cute, I like it, and I keep getting compliments on it.  From people who think it’s real!  Maybe I don’t work with the sharpest tools in the shed.  You might not be able to tell from the picture, but this plant looks as fake as fake plants can look.  Very shiny plastic.  People are dumb.

Speaking of dumb, I saw the weirdest thing a couple of weeks ago on my way home from work.  I was coming off an exit ramp onto a major road, and I saw a group of 20 or 30 people spread out in the grass on the side of the road, all pointing radar/speed guns at the cars coming down the ramp and around the corner.  Were they making a statement?  (“You’re going too fast!”)  They didn’t have any signs.  Doing a study?  Nobody seemed to be writing anything down, but maybe those speed gun things save data.  Training to be state troopers or deputy sheriffs?  (We don’t have police in my county – I live in an unincorporated town.)  Maybe it was performance art.  Whatever they were doing, I wish I’d been able to get a picture of it.

An ice cream flavor I wouldn’t order

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Tonight I tried to fight the overwhelming taste of garlic with too-sweet, not very good wine, and it didn’t work out.  My tongue feels coated with something awful and I’m considering gargling salt water to scrape it clean.  I tried Listerine.  Didn’t work.  I ended up breathing minty garlic, and god, that’s gross.  Every once in a while I hear myself say there’s no such thing as too much garlic, but that’s just not true.

At least I won’t have to worry about vampires tonight.  ‘Cause you know how often I worry about vampires.  It’s nice to have a night off from that.  Of all the things that stress me out, vampires are at the top of my list.  Next to worrying about puppies not getting enough love and whether or not the New Directions will win Nationals next year.

Lack of objectivity

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Hi.  My name is Zannah, and I’m a Les Mis-aholic.  Kind of.  (Whoops.  Failed already.)  I’ve seen the show five times I can think of off-hand (possibly six), and I never get tired of it.  On my way to work this morning, I heard on the radio that it’ll be at the Kennedy Center for the whole month of October.  I want to go!  I won’t make John go this time.  He’s gone twice (once when we were in college, and once a couple of summers ago (he bought me the tickets for Christmas – made me cry)), and he was underwhelmed both times.  The question becomes (once I decide it’s worth $100 to me (it totally is, but I can’t be objective about whether or not that’s a ridiculous sum of money)) do I go alone?  Silly question.  Of course I’d go alone.  But maybe I don’t have to….are my friends (the local ones, anyway) cuckoo for Les Mis-flavored Cocoa Puffs?

I forgot how I get when I’m in school

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Today was a good day.  (I should grade every day.  Good or bad.  Today good, yesterday bad.  Me Tarzan, you Jane.)  Work was meh, but I came home early today to be here for our spring A/C maintenance, and I really liked the HVAC guy.  Chatting turned what probably would have been a 30-minute visit into an hour and a half, but who cares?  He’ll get overtime.  On top of that, I’m two-thirds of the way through my third quiz.  Unfortunately, I still have another quiz to complete before I can take the midterm, which has to be taken no later than June 19th, which happens to be a Sunday, which really means I have to take it by Friday, June 17th, so I’m aiming for Thursday, June 16th.  (And I’m a little nervous about it, which may explain the previous sentence.)  Let’s ignore that I used to be good at calculus.  My problem is that I don’t remember basic theorems and trig identities and tricks I used to have memorized.  Twelve years ago.  When I last took a calculus class.  Not remembering isn’t a problem when I’m doing homework and quizzes – I have the internet.  They’re open book.  My midterm?  Not so much.  No calculator, no computer, no help.  Just my memory.  My faulty, holey, Swiss cheese memory that’s full of gaps.

I just came off an online Q&A with the professor.  He’s not long-winded, really, but he spends so much time messing with the technology he’s using (some of which is very cool) that these things take forEVER.  But I feel a little better about the class.  For now.  Until panic sets in again.  Probably early to mid next week.

Klutzy McKlutzington is struck down by a microwave (the appliance kind, not the electromagnetic kind) (Now that I think about it, it totally could have been the electromagnetic kind.)

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Did I tell you that I fell down the other day (Wednesday, I think)?  Don’t think I did.  I fell.  On the kitchen floor.  For no discernible reason.  But I fell hard, and I’m bruised all over.  Including the inside of my left bicep.  I have NO idea how I managed to bruise that part of my arm and my knees.  I could understand the outside, but falling on the inside of my arm probably would have wrenched my shoulder, and I didn’t notice that Wednesday night….but that might explain the upper back pain I woke up with this morning…  It’s gone now.  The takeaway from this story is that I am a klutz.  I tripped over nothing and bruised myself all to hell.  It’s a wonder I didn’t stick a carrot in my eye at lunch today.  Do you have any idea why my boss would make fun of me for having carrots and hummus for lunch?  What’s weird about that?

Maybe I fell because the microwave died.  (Makes as much sense as anything else.)  The microwave that John fixed a while back has gone kaput again.  Won’t run at all.  Something happened (maybe lightning – we lost power) while we were on vacation.  Luckily, we still have John’s college microwave.  (I could have sworn we got rid of it after the last microwave fiasco because who needs two microwaves in one house?  Other than us.)  So now we have a useless microwave hanging above the stove and a very useful microwave taking up all the counter space above the dishwasher.  I don’t know yet if John is going to try to fix the broken one or if we’re going to buy a shiny new one to go in its place.  Either way, I’m sure we’re not going to get rid of the old one that keeps coming to our rescue.  We’re loyal like that.  Until we move.  I can’t make any promises when it comes time to pack up and the moving company charges by weight.  On the other hand, when we’re being charged for hundreds of boxes of books, what’s one microwave in comparison?

Less itchy

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I know you’re all dying to know how my anti-itch plan worked last night.  Part 1 (the anti-itch lotion) worked great.  I was able to sleep through the night (mostly) with only minor itching.  No more ankles on fire.  Woohoo!  The epsom salt bath was TERRIBLE.  Made me itch so much more.  Bad idea.  But yay for lotion.

Tomorrow, I won’t talk about itching or bug bites.  Maybe.  Probably.

When I’m rich, I’m going to keep a manicurist on my staff and pay him (or her) VERY well

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I found a new nail salon.  A new spa.  I love it.  It’s beautiful, quiet, clean, close to the house.  Serene.  There was soothing music playing, I met some really nice people (both employees and customers)…I would like to hang out at a spa.  It could be very peaceful.  Let all the stress float away.  Spa/yoga/meditation studio.  Maybe that’s where I should work.  Ooh, I could be a yoga instructor!  Once I learn yoga.

A rabbit ate my tree

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Bunnies are bad news.  You think they’re all cute and cuddly and not a menace, but really, they’re out to get you.  And your baby trees.  You know that cute little crabapple tree John and I planted a couple of weeks ago?  It had little baby leaves and everything, and now it’s GONE.

I used to think rabbits looked like this:

All cute and innocent and nose-wriggly – but look a little closer….

If there are train tracks between you and this bunny, RUN!

…EVIL!  So clearly evil.  Turns out they’ve looked like this all along.  This explains the disappearance of the sunflowers John tried to plant for me a couple of years ago and my poor munched-on black-eyed susans.  It explains the death of our cute little baby crabapple tree, and it finally explains why Roxy goes airborne and tries to tear my arm out of its socket every time she spots a rabbit on our walks.  She’s always known they were evil and just couldn’t tell me.  Those rabbits aren’t just hungry – they’re out to get us.  Monty Python was on to something.  (Like that’s news.)

Spring fever

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I’d call it senioritis, but I don’t qualify as a senior under any definition of the word.  Spring fever is accurate enough.  I want to be outside.  I want to be active.  I want to be doing almost ANYthing that isn’t work.  It’s just as well my sad little cubicle doesn’t have a direct view of a window.

I finally finished The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest the other day.  I downloaded it from Audible.com and listened to it while in the gym or walking the dogs using the Audible app on my phone.  It took me forEVER to finish it, but I really enjoyed it.  I decided to give up on Heyday.  I was 130 pages in and I didn’t care.  Nothing had happened (except something that totally grossed me out) and I didn’t care about the characters and why should I spend my precious free time reading a book I’m not over the moon about?  I’ll have way less free time coming up soon, so I might as well enjoy what I’ve got.

Happy Derby Day!

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Once again (due to lack of planning this year), I am not hosting my (almost) annual Derby party. Sad panda, I know. We do have plans to watch it (of course), and I’ll probably pick a horse at the last minute, like I usually do. Right now I’m waffling between Pants on Fire (love the name) and Twice the Appeal (because the jockey is Calvin Borel, who’s won three of the last four Kentucky Derbys).  (Should that be Derbies?  Eh, that looks weirder.)

Post time is 6:24 EDT and you can watch it on NBC.  Fastest two minutes in sports!  All you need is a Derby hat.  (Go to Google Images and look for Kentucky Derby hats.  They’re so cool!)

Gotta go!

It's a sunflower! I love it.