Category: Life

So, after I lifted weights on Saturday, while I was stumbling around with noodles for legs (the pain didn’t set in until Saturday evening), we decided to go to a roadside petting zoo about 45 minutes away from here. Fred’s going to do a whole entry about the petting zoo, complete with zillions of pictures, but let me tell you what I think was the best part of the zoo. The best part of the zoo, my friends, were the baby pygmy goats. My god in heaven, they were the most adorable things I’ve ever seen. Seriously, I was thisclose to snatching one up and tossing it in the Jeep. I said to Fred “Someday, if we have a house on enough land, promise me we’ll get some pygmy goats!” He wouldn’t, though, damn him. This little guy had just been born at 8:00 Saturday morning and was only hours old. More cuties, only a few hours old. These guys were a little older, and starting to get their horns. Their fur was so soft, and though they’d run from us when we entered the corral, once we started petting them, they seemed to think “Hey, that’s kind of nice…” and would stop running away. Little bunnies, who liked to be petted on their little heads. Seriously, the man brings me to a petting zoo full of cute animals, and then is surprised when I want to bring some of them home with me. Personally, I’d love to see the looks on the faces of the cats if we brought a baby pygmy goat home with us. I bet they’d be seriously freaked out.

You know, it’s funny. I installed Movable Type because I was tired of messing around with remembering to link each entry to the entry before and after, and changing the links on the front page every day, and so forth. But I’m doing more html by hand than I ever did while using Dreamweaver. It’s a fair trade-off, I suppose, to be able to change the look of the entire site so easily, and also not to have to worry about the “before” and “after” links working. So, here’s the question for y’all. When I link to something, do you want the link to open in a new window – like such – or the same window – like such? It makes no difference to me, just requires an additional bit of html to each link, so it’s really up to you. Poll time!

Links – new page or no?

Do you want links to open in a new page or not? I prefer links to open in a new page I prefer links to open in the same page Frankly my dear, I don’t give a shit. Current Results

I’ll go with whatever the majority vote decides, mm’kay? ]]>

This shit is just unreal. Maybe I’m idealistic, but I really feel that something like that wouldn’t happen in the south because the cops wouldn’t put up with that shit. Not only would the cops not put up with that shit, but I would hope to holy hell that their parents would beat the living shit out of them. I’m not for beating your kid, god knows, but if I ever found out that the spud was hanging out with a group of hoodlums doing that sort of shit (Hee! Let me take a brief moment to laugh myself silly at the very thought.) I’d kick her ass. There’s a follow-up here. (Both links came from Fred’s forum, and originally from Rachel Lucas)

You know you’re hormonal when the video for Reba McEntire’s “Fancy” (hee! I almost typed “Fancypants”) makes you all teary-eyed. You also know you’re hormonal when someone calls you a bitch in traffic (I’m 99.9% sure I had the right of way) and you desperately wish you had a gun with you so you could shoot his big fat head right off. (Calm down, I don’t carry a gun, and I don’t intend to start. Oh, wait. Um. Note to stalkers: Yes I do, and I’m not afraid to use it, motherfucker!) (And as a side note, after I flipped him the bird, I had a conversation with myself about whether or not that was the right finger. Hee!) So, we went to the spud’s school concert last night. The concerts are always a big deal, because not only do we have to leave the house at night (horrors!), but we also have to bring food. They have a “reception” once the concert is over (which we never stay for), and I always get a call asking me to bring something. I always volunteer to bring cookies, and on his way home from work Fred buys some cheap cookies from the bakery in the grocery store. Anyway, the spud had to be at the school at 7:00, and told us she’d be playing at 7:30. We got to the school, turned the cookies over to the reception committee, and sat in the auditorium. For half an hour we sat and watched people wander in and out of the auditorium. We made comments to each other about various people, and listened to the bands – one on the stage, the others down in the front rows – warm up. The instruments got louder and louder, blending in a painful cacophony reaching a pitch that seemed aimed at making my brains leak out my ears. After an interminable amount of time, the band director stepped up onto the stage and waved his arms for silence. The instruments quieted almost immediately, except for a tuba, which gave a final defiant blat before fading into a wary stillness. We were unpleased, by the way, to find out that the spud’s band would be the second, not the first, band to play. We had to sit through the 7th grade band’s stylings, and a little award ceremony wherein 3/4 of the band got a “Director’s Award”. I perfected the appearance of clapping without actually hitting my hands together, because too much clapping makes Momma’s hands sore. The band director made a speech wherein he said something along the lines of “the expression that these kids are, uh, expressing is just wonderful!” After the 7th grade band played and finally left the stage, we waited while the parents of the kids in the 7th grade made a mass exodus, oblivious to the band director’s sad “I know you’re busy, but you might find it interesting to stay and watch all the other bands!” Fred leaned over to me as the people streamed by and whispered “Lucky bastards!” An eternity passed while the spud’s band took the stage and tuned up (or whatever the hell it is they do). The director pointed at various people and had them play a tune or two, and then play it again. I leaned over and said to Fred, “Do you ever want to yell ‘If they don’t know it by now, they never will!’?” Finally, they began playing. They played “Alamo March”, “Phantom of the Opera”, “Gypsy Dance” (in our opinion, the best one, because of the tambourine player, who danced like mad while waving his tambourine around), and then there was a break while the band instructor handed out Director’s Awards again. Like last year, 3/4 of the band got an award, and the spud did not. Or maybe that’s just how it seemed. Lastly, they played “Rites of Tamburo”, we gave them a standing ovation, and then hauled ass out of there. We waited in the hallway while the spud stayed to listen to one song by the Jazz Band. It was just after 9 by the time we got home. I convinced Fred to stay up to watch Survivor (so long, person who was voted off. Glad to see you go!), which is an amazing thing. After a period of staying up until 10:00 every night, we’re back to going to bed at 9, because I was so tired of hearing Fred bitch about staying up “so late.” (When I say “bitch” what I mean is “whine.”) And that, dear readers, was our big night out. 1. Would you consider yourself an organized person? Why or why not? Not really – I mean, I’d like to be organized, and I always INTEND to be organized, but at this point in my life, I think it’s just time to accept that organization on a daily basis just isn’t in the cards for me. I can organize certain things – for instance, when we go on vacation, I’m very organized about getting things packed and almost always remember everything we need to bring – but on a daily basis, I’m not particularly organized, no. 2. Do you keep some type of planner, organizer, calendar, etc. with you, and do you use it regularly? I have three calendars hanging over my desk. At the moment, only one is on May – I haven’t gotten around to turning the other two over from April. I write birthdays on the one closest to my computer, but for the most part I only have them because I like the pictures (I also have another one in the kitchen). I have attempted carrying an organizer around with me, but frankly, my life isn’t so hectic that I really need an organizer. 3. Would you say that your desk is organized right now? Organized as in I have some idea where everything is? Yes. Organized as in uncluttered? Ha. No. 4. Do you alphabetize CDs, books, and DVDs, or does it not matter? I’ve been intending to alphabetize all the movies and CDs we have for about three years now. Hasn’t happened yet. I don’t alphabetize books, though, because it really doesn’t matter. 5. What’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to organize? The Bullshit! distribution list! It helps a LOT that there are so many great people keeping me informed of what’s going on, though. Y’all have a great weekend!]]>

here.

We’ve been watching Eco-Challenge Fiji all this week and really enjoying it. I LOVE that damn show, and I wish they’d show it more often than just this week. Every time we watch the show, I get all starry-eyed and think that adventure racing looks like the bee’s knees. Last night, I turned to Fred and said “We should take up adventure racing!” I thought for a moment, considering my current physical condition. “When we’re forty!” Fred laughed. “Yeah, except I’d turn into Ian!” (If you never saw Amazing Race 3, Ian and his wife Teri were an older (50ish) married couple, and Ian reacted to stress by screaming at his wife to move her ass. Charming, really. They came in second behind the loathesome Flo and the poor, beleagured Zach.) Actually, Fred would be Ian, screaming at me to move my ass, and I’d be Flo, having a constant hysterical nervous breakdown and blaming everything on him. It’d certainly be interesting, at least until it came to blows, I’m sure. We’ll be missing Survivor tonight, because we have to attend yet another of the spud’s school concerts. This – thankyajesus! – is the last one for this year. I don’t know why it is, but every single damn concert we have to attend is on a Thursday. It’s a conspiracy, I think. Of course we’ll be taping the show and watching it when we get home, but it’s just not the same, damnit. Okay, that’s it for today. I’m going to post this and then go land on the couch and finish the book I’m reading before I have to start dinner. Y’all have a good one!]]>

Scoop: Madonna has taken some heat lately for supposedly bashing her adopted country, England, but those stories have it all wrong. It�s the U.S. she can�t stand. The �American Life� star recently gave an interview to the BBC, and a source says Madonna made some pretty harsh comments about her native country � which were all edited out of the show that was broadcast. �Madonna said that most Americans are rude and obnoxious,� says a source. �She said that Americans are upset with her for having abandoned that country for England. And she�s clearly no fan of American president George Bush. But for some reason, all those comments were left on the editing room floor.� A BBC spokeswoman says she cannot comment on what was left out of the interview, and Madonna�s spokeswoman didn�t return calls. Most Americans are rude and obnoxious? Once again, pot-kettle-black. And as for Americans being upset with her for having left the US – I personally am not upset at ALL. In fact, she shouldn’t let the door hit her in the ass on her way out. You know, I can’t wait ’til little Lola and Rocco are old enough to pen those Mommie Dearest books. Oh – and check out The Top 16 Titles for Madonna’s Children’s Books. My favorite? Are You There, Lucifer? It’s Me, Madonna. Hee!

Be warned that I will be harassing people later today about whether they’ve received the Bullshit! tape and sent it on or not. If you received the tape and didn’t email me to let me know you were sending it on, please let me know now. If you haven’t received the tape, do nothing. Well, except send me a million dollars, if you’re of a mind. Ten and twenties, please. Speaking of email (kinda), I am far, far behind on my email and journal-reading. If you’ve emailed me in the past few months and haven’t heard back, don’t give up hope. Someday I’ll get back to you! After I lifted weights this morning, I went upstairs to take a shower. I was shocked and appalled at the sight that greeted me when I stepped into the master bedroom. I’m accustomed to seeing Spanky snooze on that chair, and sometimes I’ll see Tubby there, but never – NEVER! – at the same time. It’s unheard of! Spanky can’t stand to have another cat – or a person for that matter – in his space. On the occasion when Fancypants needs some love and the only other cat around is Spanky, you can imagine the look of disgust on Spanky’s face when Fancypants tries the trilling-meow-and-swish-by that works so well with Tubby. All I can guess is that Tubby slipped Spanky some of the kitty pot, and when Spanky slipped into a drug-induced slumber, Tubby slyly snuck up on the chair and settled in. While I’m talking about cats (yes, yes, I hear you – “Robyn, when are you NOT talking about cats?!”), go read this funny-ass piece by Sour Bob. I just finished ordering Mother’s Day flowers for Fred’s mother and stepmother and my mother. I had filled in all the required information and was juuuust about to click on the “Place order” button when I thought to myself, “Self, is it really that smart to send the same bouquet to all three mothers? Because, true, my mother will most likely never have the occasion to discuss the flowers she got from us for Mother’s Day with Fred’s mother and stepmother. And also, it is true that Fred’s mother and stepmother won’t be spending time comparing notes (“Red roses, you say? And lilies? In a white basket?”).” And then I stopped and imagined a scene that could easily happen. A scene involving Fred’s sister talking to their mother. Their mother saying “Yes, it’s quite lovely. Roses and lilies. In a cute white basket. Adorable.”, and Fred’s sister responding with “Oh, that sounds like the same arrangement [their stepmother] got from them! Uh, I mean…” Feelings would be hurt, I’d get in trouble with Fred, it would be a big brouhaha, and I’m not fond of the brouhahas, I’m really not. So instead of clicking on the “Place order” button, I canceled the order and sent each mother a completely different bouquet. Took longer, but it averted THAT potential disaster, yes it did.]]>

The Fancypants, as you may have noticed is a long-haired kitty, and not only is he a long-haired kitty, but he also spends a lot of time outside. He’s always had several matted places on his side and back, but after he recently got wet, it got worse and the mats were impossible to brush out. We thought about it for a while, Fred called around to different places, and finally we decided to go for it and have him shaved. He’s his usual Fancy self. He’s always been pretty laid-back, so this didn’t bother him too much. The other cats, though, have been pretty freaked out. Miz Poo and Spanky, in particular, have been sniffing at him and then hissing. It’s as if they’re thinking “He SMELLS like the Fancy one, but he just doesn’t LOOK right!” We’re going to get into a regular grooming schedule with him, so hopefully this won’t have to happen again. He’s awfully funny to look at, though. He moves like he always did, and it’s funny as hell to see a big, fluffy tail swishing back and forth, and a big fluffy head, with a skinny little body in between. Poor Fancypants!

So, as I mentioned in the little blurb I put up yesterday, I didn’t update yesterday because I was in a great amount of pain. After taking six months off from lifting weights (dumbass!), I lifted upper body weights again on Saturday, and woke up with every muscle screaming on Sunday. I tried Tylenol, aspirin, and ibuprofen, and nothing took away the pain. Sunday night I said to Fred, “At least this is the worst of it!” Wrong-o. I woke up yesterday morning wishing someone would put me out of my misery, and I ended up spending most of the day on the couch, moving my arms and shoulders (and chest) as little as possible. Last night, I took a narcotic pain-reliever left over from Fred’s surgery about a year ago (and yes, I know you’re not supposed to do that, but I already did it, so don’t give me shit about it. Y’all would have done it too, trust me.) both to get rid of the pain and to help me sleep. I slept like a rock, but even after sleeping until 10 (with some time spent awake in front of the TV once the tornado sirens woke me up) I’m kind of groggy today. But the pain is much, MUCH less than it was yesterday, thankyajesus. I was even able to haul my ass out to the garage and ride the bike for 20 minutes, so all is good. From the most recent Entertainment Weekly: Madonna: The new kabbalah-inspired kids’ author told VH1, “Now I’m starting to read to my son, but I couldn’t believe how vapid and vacant and empty all the stories were. There were like no lessons… There’s like no books about anything.” If that ain’t the pot, like, calling the kettle black, I don’t know what is. On Sunday we went to a huge cemetery in Huntsville – Maple Hill Cemetery, if you’re local – and spent about an hour walking around taking pictures. Fred’s going to put the bulk of the pictures up in an entry today or tomorrow, but I called dibs on a couple of them. We’re waiting for you, Nance! Obviously, as I told Fred, a sign that I should be buried at Maple Hill! I’ve always said that when I die, I want to be cremated and have my ashes scattered over the ocean off the coast of Maine. I didn’t want to think about my body moldering in a casket six feet under the ground for eternity once my soul was gone. But after walking through the cemetery and seeing graves for people who died over 100 years ago, I’ve come to think that there’s really something awe-inspiring about the fact that years and years after these people have died, when everyone whose lives they touched are gone as well, there’s a small plot of land dedicated solely to them, a plot of land that will be there for years and years to come.]]>

today. I LOVE the look on Tom Brokaw’s face right after he says it, like all the blood has drained from his body.

So, there’s this Taco Bell commercial on the radio that has me confused. It’s a commercial for the Cheesy Gordita Crunch, and as it starts, someone who I assume is supposed to be a teacher, is taking attendance. “This can’t be right,” she says to herself. “Crunchy Collins?” “Here, ma’am!” says a child’s voice. “Your parents named you Crunchy?” she asks, clearly taken aback. The child says “You should meet my brothers Cheesey and Chewy!” “Over here, ma’am!” say the voices of two other children. It appears that the mother of Crunchy, Chewy, and Cheesy had a hard-core craving for the Crunchy Gordita during her pregnancies, and thus (possibly when she wasn’t smoking crack with one hand and downing the hard liquor with the other, one assumes) named her children after it. Naturally, the children have brought a Crunchy Gordita to class with them so that the teacher can try it for herself. “Mmmm….” she says in the throes of an orgasm. “It IS crunchy, chewy and cheesy! But it’s also melty!” And in the distance, we hear the voice of yet another child. “Over here, ma’am!” It is established that this is Melty Collins, and the final line of the commercial is little Melty saying – and this is clearly supposed to be a punchline – “And I’m really good at math!” Huh? Why is the child good at math? What does math have to do with the Cheesy Gordita, and why that line supposed to be humorous? I don’t get it, and every time I hear the commercial, a little cartoon question mark pops up over my head. I will be so glad when this Sunday comes and goes. I’m tired of seeing the commercial for the movie about Lucy – the movie that stars the woman who looks NOTHING like Lucy, and worse yet SOUNDS nothing like Lucy, and it’s really REALLY bugging me. I mean, I know they can slap red hair and bright lipstick on a woman and we’re supposed to believe she’s Lucy, but the woman doesn’t even ATTEMPT to sound like Lucy in the clips I’ve seen, and I suspect that the movie will be awful. Of course, let’s be honest – even if they got a dead ringer for Lucy to star in the movie, I wouldn’t be bothered to check it out. Not that I dislike Lucille Ball, in fact I think she was awesome, but I’ve got better things to do on a Sunday night than watch a movie about someone’s life, like fall asleep on the couch with Miz Poo purring in my ear. Oh my! Momma wants one of these! (Better start saving, I guess…) I guess it’s a sign that I’m no longer 19 years old when I start drooling over things like vacuum cleaners, isn’t it? 1. Name one song you hate to admit you like. Honestly, I’m not embarrassed by any of the songs I like – y’all know I love the cheesy stuff. Oh, I guess I’m a little chagrined that I love the song “Could’ve Been Me” by Billy Ray Cyrus. (Shaddup) 2. Name two songs that always make you cry. “Sand and Water” by Beth Neilsen Chapman, “Changes”, by Olivia Newton-John “Beloved Wife” by Natalie Merchant, and “Black” by Pearl Jam. Yes, that’s more than two. I could probably come up with 50 songs that always make me cry. 3. Name three songs that turn you on. Uh. You know, I don’t really think that songs do turn me on. 4. Name four songs that always make you feel good. “Hold On” by Wilson Phillips (shaddup), “Kiss and Say Goodbye” by The Manhattans (damn do I love to sing along with that song!), “Hey Cinderella” by Suzy Bogguss, and “Jolene” by Sherrie Austin (and of course the original version by Dolly Parton kicks ass as well). 5. Name five songs you couldn’t ever do without. “Black” by Pearl Jam, “Good” by Better Than Ezra, “I Will Not Take These Things for Granted” by Toad the Wet Sprocket, “Chances” by Bob Seger and Martina McBride, and “I’m Not Supposed to Love You Anymore” by Bryan White. Y’all have a good weekend. I may do a quick entry tomorrow, because there will be some pictures to share that I think you’ll enjoy.]]>

Every time Madonna opens her self-important mouth these days, she just annoys the shit out of me. I liked her better back in the “Like a Virgin” days when she was at least aware of the fact that she was an attention whore, which she still is, but somehow seems to have since forgotten. See, it was just fine when she was burning crosses and making out with the Jesus statue in the Pepsi commercial or writhing around masturbating in a wedding dress, or fellating a wine bottle in her own personal “Look at me! I’m the center of the universe!” movie back in the day, but now that she’s 120 years old and talking with an accent so fake it makes Franck Eggelhoffer cry, she’s all concerned about the state of the world. Please. Or maybe she’s jealous. Wouldn’t surprise me. She’s so scary looking these days that the hordes who used to run screaming toward her are now screaming and running in the other direction.

I really like the Jennifer Lopez/ LL Cool J song “All I Have.” My favorite part of it is when she sings “All my pride is all I have” and he busts in, all condescending-like, with “Pride is what you HAD baby girl, I’m what you HAVE”. Because of course, when you’ve got LL Cool J, who needs pride, right? Heh. In a house with a 35 year-old man and a 14 year-old girl, who’d’ve thought I’d be the one who likes Jennifer Lopez? (The whole “J. Lo” thing is goofy as hell, though.) Using the Movable Type screen to write this entry has me all confused, since I’ve been using Dreamweaver for at least 2 1/2 years, and HoTMetaL Pro before that. It’ll take some getting used to, I s’pose. I tried an experiment yesterday. I took a rather large book down off a bookcase in the library and put it on the floor, to see how long it would take a cat to land on it. Literally less than 10 seconds later, with no coaxing whatsoever, Miz Poo had settled in. Something on the floor?… (There’s a plastic bag underneath Spanky, if you can’t tell) Pet store kitties are here. Why have no hummingbirds discovered the hummingbird feeder yet? Whyyyy? All I want is to see the occasional bitty little hummingbird flitting about. Is that so much to ask? I got a call from Delta a few days ago, letting me know that the spud’s flight from California to Rhode Island in June has been changed around so that she won’t have a long layover in Atlanta. Instead of sitting around for 2 1/2 hours between flights, she’ll have less than an hour. Of course, now I’ve stopped worrying that some skanky perv will decide to pay attention to her, and started worrying that she’ll miss her flight from Atlanta to Rhode Island. Gah.]]>

* * * And now I’m back from Sam’s. Thank god I will NEVER have to go to that side of Huntsville again. They’re ripping up the roads, so that was a mess, there was a car accident making me have to detour out of the way into a fairly scary neighborhood, and they’re actually remodeling Sam’s – I assume it’s remodeling, there were jackhammers all over the place in every part of the store – so that was a huge pain in the ass. I ensured for myself a spot in Hell by repeatedly yelling (or at least thinking loudly) the name of Our Lord and Savior complete with His little-known middle name (no, not “Harold”), which starts with “F” and ends with “ucking.” Yep. I believe there’s a seat in the ass-singe section with my name on it. I also sighed and rolled my eyes so often that I’m surprised I didn’t hyperventilate and/or get dizzy. I just get impatient when people STOP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING AISLE AND DON’T GET THEIR ASS OUT OF MY WAY. I mean, godalmighty, how hard is it to park your stupid-ass cart to the SIDE of the aisle? One would think by the age of 83 you’d have perfected that. I’d like to think that the new Sam’s (One more week! Whee!) will attract a younger, savvier crowd (say, mid-50s with the ability to move faster than .00578 miles per hour), but I’m not holding my breath. The old folks love to buy their 45 gallon containers of Tide, and who can blame them? (Seriously. I bought a 40 oz. bag of whole almonds for less than $6. You get a tenth that many almonds for the same price at the grocery store!) I didn’t let myself get suckered in by the 18-pack of Skinny Cows, but don’t think I wasn’t tempted.

* * * How is it that I didn’t realize Counting Crows sing this song? And further, how is it that I didn’t know ’til just now that it’s a Joni Mitchell song? Ew. And Amy Grant did a version of it as well. Talk about ruining a song. I can’t stand Amy Grant or her stupid husband, not one little bit. Gah. If I were the law-breaking sort, I’d download the Joni Mitchell version and really like it. And I’d download the Amy Grant version and have fuel for my intense dislike. But I’m not, so I didn’t. Move along, now. (I also didn’t download a bunch of Toad the Wet Sprocket songs and play them repeatedly, rediscovering how much I love them, especially “I Will Not Take These Things for Granted”, because that would be very cheesy whitebread middle class of me. And god knows I’m the c00lest, l33test beotch in the H00d.) * * * I love this rose. I have no idea what kind of rose it is, but I love it.]]>

* * * Well, damn. Randy of RandyCam fame has passed away. I loved visiting that site from time to time, and Randy will definitely be missed. (Thanks to reader Amanda for letting me know about Randy!)

* * * I had to get up somewhat early this morning (though it wasn’t hard – I woke up around 6:30 after a disturbing dream in which Fred was Mr. Big from Sex and the City. I don’t remember what disturbed me, only that I felt that way when I woke up). Miz Poo – she of the goopy eye and puffy lip – had a vet appointment at 8:00, and I had an appointment for a cut-and-color at 9:30. I was so sure that I’d be in and out of the vet’s office in twenty minutes, tops, so I planned to run to the grocery store before my hair appointment. Except that best laid plans and all that jazz. I wasn’t out of the vet’s office in 20 minutes or 30 or even 40. 45 minutes after stepping through the door, pitifully mewing kitty in hand (or carrier box), I finally left, pitifully mewing kitty in one hand and a small bag of medication in the other. The goopy eye may or may not be caused by an abcessed eyetooth. We’re treating it with antibiotics and an ointment and will see how that goes. If it doesn’t improve, she’ll need to have the offending eyetooth removed, and I can only imagine how funny she’ll look. Though she doesn’t go around showing her teeth all that often, so maybe it won’t make much of a difference after all. (And after a quick online search, it appears that an eyetooth is the same thing as a canine, and lord help me, she’s going to be the most redneck-looking kitty in the world between the puffy lip and the missing canine.) I left the vet’s office $127 poorer and came home to change shirts, because the one I’d been wearing was absolutely matted with Poo hair. All the cats are shedding a lot lately due to the weather, and I’m sure the stress of going to the vet’s made her shed even more. Made it to my hair appointment on time (!), and an hour and a half later left, colored and coiffed to within an inch of my life. It occurs to me yet again that if I took the time every morning to blow my hair out straight, I wouldn’t run around looking so ratty. And it also occurs to me that satan’ll be prancing about in a Gore-Tex Parka (in Thyme) before the time comes that I want to mess with my hair every morning. Ran to the post office and found a package sitting and waiting patiently for me. It was from the lovely and talented Athena, and when I opened it up, what do you suppose I found? A smiley-face pad o’ paper, and some smiley-face notecards! For me! Damn but I love the smiley stuff (and yes, I know y’all know that, but it always bears repeating!). Speaking of things I got in the mail, I also received, yesterday, a surprise. From my wish list, reader Regina sent me: She’s Come Undone, by Wally Lamb! I read it once years and years ago – right after it came out, I believe, and defintely before it became an Oprah selection – and wanted to read it again. So I shall! Thank you, Regina – and if you’ll email me, I’ll thank you properly. * * * I stayed up late last night to finish Second Helpings, and felt all nostalgic when I was done. It really took me back to that time in my own life, though I wasn’t nearly as cool as Jessica Darling. Again, I highly recommend both Second Helpings and Sloppy Firsts. The thing that sucks about reading a book that just came out by an author you really like is that it’ll be a good long wait until the next one. I know I have a bazillion other books to read, but I still want another by Megan McCafferty NOW, damnit! * * * That’s it for now, y’all. I’m off to sit my butt on the couch, cross stitch, and watch a show I taped earlier. Have a good one!]]>