Category: Life

So, I got a little Linens-N-Things sales catalog in the mail yesterday, and I looked through it to see if there was anything the slightest bit interesting, and I saw that they had on sale for $24.99, "Silk Rose Satin-Back Pillows." And there was a picture of pillows, with silk roses attached to the front.

That’s just wrong on so many levels, y’all. First off, who wants to lay their head on a bunch of scratchy, uncomfortable silk roses? Who could nap on a pillow like that? Yes, I hear you, you’re saying that they’re not to actually USE, that they’re just for decoration, and to prettify the living room and all, but give me a break. I hate the idea of pillows that are only to look at and not to lay your head upon and snore upon and possibly drool upon. That’s what pillows are for, and you’ll never convince me otherwise.

Of course, the other problem is that with silk roses attached to pillows, one fat-ass cat or another would take it upon themself to eat a rose or two, make it halfway across the room, and yark them back up in the middle of the floor, in exactly the right spot so that someone walking across the room would step directly into the mess, then do an "Ew, ick, GROSS!" dance and have to clean up the ground-in mess.

Some reader unsubscribed from the notify list yesterday, saying You’re right, endlessly babbling about TV shows is boring. I mean, either I’m interested in these shows and have watched them myself, or I’m not and, in that case, I don’t give a damn.

Well, really, what am I supposed to write about, when all I do is watch TV, exercise, clean the house, and play with the cats? Her endlessly fascinating life? Like always, what I write about goes in cycles – TV, exercise, house cleaning, cats, cats, cats, and back to the beginning. If you want social commentary, tune into O’Reilly, people. I write about my life because my life revolves around me and I’m a self-centered bitch. Durr. Anyone who’s read more than two entries should have been able to figure that one out.

And if you unsubscribe from the notify list? A reason for the unsubscription is neither necessary, required, nor desired. Thanks so much.

Any of y’all have a Nokia 3200 series cellphone, and if you do, do you know whether it’s possible to block calls from people who are blocking their number from showing up on your caller id? And failing that, does anyone know where I can find an online instruction guide for my Nokia 3200 series phone? Google isn’t helping much, and any help will be greatly appreciated, because the telemarketers are driving me batshit. (Note: I’ve got it, no more help needed. Obviously I’m too dumb to check, oh, the Nokia site! Duhhh)

I love me some Survivor, yes I do. Y’all notice how whenever anyone wants Sean to move his ass, he starts screaming "slavery"? And Rob? What an ass. It’s rather funny how the tribes turned out – a bunch of girls and an old man on one, and a bunch of guys (including the obnoxious and annoying Sean and Rob) on the other. I’m thinking that Gabriel wasn’t terribly impressed by Sean, and I’m also thinking he’s not the only one.

This entry helpfully co-written by Miz Poo:

 

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Luckily, we have a steam cleaner, which you can use to suck up such puddles. I ended up getting close to a gallon of water off the floor. And it was a nasty brown color, I’m sure from the dirtiness of the floor.

What can I say? I hate mopping!

I watched The Osbournes again last night, after kicking Fred off to bed in mid-sentence, practically. I’m continuing to love that show, but when Ozzy and Sharon were on the radio show talking about Ozzy taking Viagra? Um, EW. I don’t want to have to think about Ozzy having a boner, thankyouverymuch.

And I’m sure that Sharon’s freakout about Kelly’s tattoo was because she’s afraid it’s only the beginning, and by the age of 22, she’ll have ’em all over the place like Ozzy, but I have to say that the tattoo she did get (a small heart on her hip) was pretty cute.

If I got a tattoo, it’d be a smiley face on my hip.

I made Fred watch the first episode of The Shield with me ("SIT your ass down and watch for ten minutes, and if you don’t like it, you don’t have to watch the rest." He watched the rest), and he liked it so much he actually wants to watch the second episode, which came on at 9 and I taped. It’s rare that a show can surprise us as thoroughly as the end of the first episode did (we both thought that the whole season was going to center around the guy who played Kellerman on Homicide getting the goods on Mackey), and on the rare occasion that happens, it means the show’s always worth another look.

And Michael Chiklis? Oh, BAYBEE! He ain’t The Commish no more, that’s for sure.

Y’all, don’t forget – Survivor‘s on tonight, and according to the commercial I saw earlier, we do NOT want to miss the first ten minutes!

I don’t know how much I like having Survivor on Wednesdays instead of Thursdays – it just doesn’t seem right. It makes the first part of the week go by really fast, but the second part go by really slow, if that makes any sense at all. At least it’ll be a good TV night, with Survivor followed by The Amazing Race. And Felicity to tape and watch later!

Does life get any better? I think not.

 

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Happy, happy birthday to my sister Debbie, who turned 32 (I had to take a minute to do the math) today! The spud and I called and left a very off-key rendition of "Happy Birthday to youuuuuuu" on her voicemail.

I’m a total space cadet today. I was prescribed Antivert for my dizziness, and since one of the side effects of it is drowsiness, I put off taking the first dose ’til last night at 9. By the time I was done watching episodes 1 & 2 of The Amazing Race, I was beyond drowsy. I slept about an hour later than usual this morning, and then had to force myself to get out of bed and go work out. All day long, I’ve been sleepy, and I ended up taking an hour-long nap on the couch, though I never really dozed off. And I’m still spacey.

I’m starting to think that the dizziness – since I only suffer from it when laying down or sitting up, and then only for about ten seconds – is the lesser of the two evils.

The Amazing Race was pretty damn good. I didn’t take an instant dislike to any team in particular, except for maybe Wil and Tara. I like Paige and Blake, the brother and sister from Texas, and the Gutsy Grannies, of course. Ya GOTTA love the Gutsy Grannies, especially the fact that they’ve made it to show #3, when they were positive they’d be disqualified at the end of shows #1 and #2.

I have no idea who I’m going to end up liking the most – I know that at this point during the first Amazing Race, I liked Team Guido, so that tells you something right there.

After telling me over and over that she loves and wants Tubby, Nance tells me this morning that she’s changed her mind. Just ’cause he has the nasty habit of peeing on clothes and towels if we leave them on the floor. Damn! I was about ready to box his ass off and send him off to her, where he could sit in the corner of her kitchen on his back and make his annoying little "I’m starving to death. Meh. STARVING, I’m STARVING. Meh." noises.

Speaking of our weird-ass cats, Miz Poo has started playing a new game with Fred. If there’s a plastic bag on the floor of the library, she’ll lay on it until Fred comes along and starts dragging her around. She’d let him do it all night long if her portly ass didn’t keep sliding off the bag. Here‘s the evidence, in the form of a movie.

I think I’m going to drag my sleepy ass off to the living room and read, to get away from Himself and his annoying, loud-ass game.

See you tomorrow!

 

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Go read about my Saturday night trip to the emergency room in the diet journal. (So many of you read both journals that I didn’t want to repeat the whole story in this journal)

On the cover of the most recent US Weekly: EXCLUSIVE – Meg’s In Love. After a tough divorce and the Russell Crowe mess, Meg Ryan falls hard for a younger man.

Okay, you know what? I DON’T BELIEVE you, US! You said it was love when she was with Anthony Edwards! You swore it was true love when she was married to Dennis Quaid! You promised that she was in big, bad love with Russell Crowe! Now you’re saying she’s fallen hard for a younger man? LIARS. You’ve burned me too many times, I’m just going put my hands over my eyes and hum a happy tune.

Wait. Is that Craig Bierko? CRAIG BIERKO AIN’T NO YOUNGER MAN. Page 38…

Oh. My. God. Call the men in the white coats. Meg Ryan is dating someone three years younger! For the love of god, what is this world coming to?!

Jeezus. She’s 40 years old and dating a 37 year-old. Since when the hell is that really "younger"? I mean, technically, yes, but by all the rules of Hollywood, where Catherine Zeta-Jones-Douglas-Die-Bitch-Die has to change the diaper of the child she had with the elderly Michael Douglas and then turn around and change the diaper Michael’s wearing, this is just not NEWSWORTHY. Give me a motherfucking break. I was hoping to see that Meg was the reason Britney and Justin broke up (but did they? They’re denying it, so it must be true). I’d like to see a nice Macaulay Culkin/ Meg Ryan pairing – THAT would be a reason for blaring the "younger man" thing, not freakin’ 3-years-younger Craig Bierko.

Obviously, I need to be the managing editor at US.

Meg Ryan sure does have a gummy smile, doesn’t she?

Oh, and while I’m bitching about Hollywood, I’ll mention that Fred and I watched Joy Ride last week. Steve Zahn just cracked me up, and the movie wasn’t bad, though it dragged a little, but I’ve come to the conclusion that I really don’t like Leelee Sobieski. Something about her face or voice annoys the shit out of me. I want to like her, really I do, but I can’t. I hate her!

I finally got around to watching the ER I taped last week. It was a rerun, but it happened to be one of the few I hadn’t already seen – the one where Luka and Abby break up, and Benton finds out that Carla’s been killed in a car accident.

Luka – whom I loved and adored after he did that entire Hamlet monologue in Croatian last week, yeah baby – pissed me off when he told Abby to stop being a bitch because "You’re not that pretty and you’re not that special." Damn, why she didn’t just melt into his arms is beyond me. I think she’s that pretty, personally, and I’d like to kick Luka’s ass for saying such a thing.

I was reminded again how very much I don’t miss Benton in the slightest little bit. He was the dullest character on any show I’ve ever seen. If he ever exhibited the slightest spark of personality, I managed to miss it – and I’ve seen almost every single episode. I couldn’t stand his deadpan, blank-faced delivery, and was happy to fast-forward past his scenes last night.

Good riddance to boring characters, I say.

 

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Fancypants gets a hair up his ass and starts fights with all the other cats (especially Spot and Tubby), and within an hour there are big tufts of cat hair all over my freshly vacuumed floor? Bastards. Did you know that most shampoos that are sold in the U.S. have the ingredient sodium laureth sulfate, which is what makes it get all foamy and bubbly? It’s a detergent, and dries out your hair, according to something I recently read. I spent a good five minutes in the shampoo aisle at Target this morning, looking at the ingredients on the back of each and every damn shampoo bottle. Every last one of them listed sodium laureth sulfate as the second or third ingredient. I don’t know about y’all, but I wash my hair every day – I have to, or I’ll go through the day feeling icky and unclean. In the five weeks between hair coloring appointments, my hair lightens from a medium brown to a light reddish-brown, and I hate that. Both Gisou and Mastey sell shampoos that don’t contain sodium laureth sulfate, and I think I’m going to buy a bottle and try it out. As soon as I get low on shampoo, that is. What? You think I’m going to toss out the shampoo I already have? There’s more than half a bottle left, I can’t do that! Oh, and while I’m sharing links, go check out this page written by a police officer, detailing what you should do if you’re stopped. Since I made such an idiot out of myself the last time I was stopped for speeding, I swore to myself that next time I got stopped (and you KNOW there’s going to be a next time, sooner or later) I’d simply apologize and plead dumbassery. It’s good to know that that’s probably the best way to go. Dear Salon Magazine – Thank you so much for demeaning and trivializing the touching Wrath of a Terror Widow by making sure that your goddamn advertisements blocked what I was reading, so that I had to turn my attention from understanding the feelings of a 9/11 widow to closing YOUR GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKING ADVERTISEMENT windows THREE DIFFERENT FUCKING TIMES. I’ll be certain that none of my disposable income goes toward the companies whose advertisements blocked what I was reading, and I’ll be sure that they know exactly why. Sincerely, Robyn Assholes. 1. What’s your favorite animal? You know, I’m not sure. I need to think about it… 2. What pets have you had in your lifetime? I started out with a hamster – more than one of them, actually – and we had a parakeet as a family pet, then got a dog (Taffy), and then a cat (Tabitha). Other than that, the spud had a cat (PFE*) who died a few years ago, and then the five we currently have. *PFE = pronounced "Piffy", it stood for Pure Fucking Evil. Not because she necessarily was, but it was a cool name. She had about fifteen different names over the time we had her, from Mazzy to Katie to something Debbie named her that I can’t remember. What was it, Deb?

3. Is there any specific pet that you’ve wanted but never had? Not really. It would be cool to have a parakeet, but I’d be stressed out all the time, worrying about whether the cats were trying to eat it. I also wouldn’t mind having a big-ass fish tank, but there’s not really anywhere to put it. 4. Are you allergic to any animals? Not that I know of. 5. Do you have any ‘pet’ pet peeves (your pets or others’)? Hairballs, big fluffs of cat fur when I’ve just vacuumed, the hair imbedded into the carpet on the stairs, and the Mad Shitter pooing on the carpet outside the laundry room instead of in the litter box. The bastard. The word "megrims" popped into my head while I was taking my shower this morning, and I tried to decide whether I knew what it meant or not. What, you don’t do that? Anyway, the definition I came up with was "Like the blues, only grumpier." I checked Merriam Webster, and the definition they give is "low spirits." I like my definition better. (And no, I don’t have the megrims – the word just popped into my mind for some reason)

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Mr. Chicky yesterday. Several times today she’s made a point of going over and smacking him down off the shelf he’s sitting on. I think she’s trying to show him who’s boss. Man. Did y’all watch that stupid celebrity boxing on Fox last night? Fred was all kinds of excited to watch it, and I admit that I was a tad interested too, but it pretty much sucked. I was incredibly embarrassed for Barry Williams (aka Greg Brady), who got his ass kicked all over hell and creation by Danny Bonaduce (aka Danny Partridge). He barely put up a fight! I felt so bad for Barry Williams that I couldn’t even watch after the first round. The second fight, with Vanilla Ice and Todd Bridges was practically as bad, though as the fight (I use the word "fight" loosely, you understand) got underway, Vanilla Ice did this weird thing where he was bouncing straight up in the air. I said to Fred, "He’s a bouncing fool, isn’t he?", which made him laugh pretty hard. Todd Bridges won that one, big shocker. And the last fight, with Tonya Harding and Paula Jones was just sad. Paula was obviously very concerned about her nose job, and kept turning her back to Tonya. Finally, she gave up, though that BITCH Tonya got in one last punch upside Paula’s head. I’ll tell you what needs to happen – Tonya needs to get in the ring with someone who’s not afraid of her, and will kick her skank ho ass. I think I could kick her ass, personally, and I’d be happy to do it. Bitch. Survivor had us shaking our heads. I won’t say who got voted off in case anyone reading hasn’t seen it yet, but WHAT WERE THEY THINKING?! I don’t like that damn tribe at ALL anymore, and I hope they keep on losing. Bastards. I’m not liking either Sean or Rob at all these days, either. And Gabriel strikes me as a tad creepy, though I don’t know why. And Sarah continues to remind me an AWFUL lot of Lindsey. But what the hell am I going to watch tonight?! Ah well. I suppose I’ll survive. It just doesn’t seem right to have Survivor on Wednesday nights, though. I finally got my damn glad bulbs planted, all 100 of them. I probably planted them too close together, but after Fred scraped the sod up in the area I designated, I had to actually dig up the topsoil and make a hole, and by the time I got to the end, I was ready to be done. Once upon a time, I had the idea that I’d have flowerbeds along the entire length of the fence. Ha. I do need to get and plant lily bulbs, though. And I need to plant my morning glory seeds. I want to grow a couple of tomato plants, and Fred wants a lemon tree… ]]>

It’s the legs, I think. The way it looks like he’s running like hell. Or tap-dancing. Anything that makes me laugh that hard – and is yellow! – is something I MUST have. I wonder how long he’ll last before Miz Poo spots him and carries him around in her mouth, howling madly. Speaking of Miz Poo, I was exercising this morning, doing crunches, and she came running out into the garage, howling with mad love for me, and jumped up on my chest, purring and kneading like crazy. It’s no wonder I almost passed out when I sat up. Her portly butt probably cut off the circulation to something important. After wandering around the mall for an hour and a half, I went to Sam’s. I drove half an hour for paper towels and gum. What? They have a really good price on paper towels, damnit! It was 1:00 by the time I left Sam’s, which is the time I usually eat lunch, and so I was grumpy. Making matters worse, I ended up following this STUPID BITCH for three miles, who was in the center lane and wanted to get into the right lane. She was driving ten miles under the speed limit, and she’d look over her shoulder and swerve to the right at the same time, then swerve back into her own lane when she realized there was someone there. She managed to miss about 45 excellent opportunities to move over, and by the time she actually got her ass in gear and MOVED over, I was truly pissed off and calling her every name in the book. Grrr. Oh! Don’t forget, Survivor is on tonight instead of tomorrow night. And the second episode of The Amazing Race is on afterward. Thanks to Michael (who heard it through the grapevine from his TiVo), I know that UPN is showing both the first and second episodes back-to-back Friday night. I have to see them both, you know, so I can figure out who I hate the most. As I recall from the first Amazing Race, I loathed Paul and Amy from the start. I think I did, anyway. And now I can’t connect to get my mail, because something somewhere is down, and it’s PISSING ME OFF. I’m starting to feel dizzy again, too. Please, god, don’t let me have a bug that will make me throw up. I hate throwing up. May there be no barfing in y’all’s evening… ]]>

The American Embassy last night? I didn’t think I was going to like it, but I did. I didn’t LOVE it, but I liked it, right up to the last 5 minutes, which seemed to me a bit of a low blow with the car bomb and all. I’ll have to watch it a few more times before I decide whether I like it enough to keep watching, I think. I got up after Fred went to bed last night and watched Once and Again, which apparently came off it’s hiatus last week without alerting me. And I also managed to miss the first show of The Amazing Race last night. Grrr! Y’all are supposed to keep me informed about that stuff! Oh, maybe I forgot to mention that to you… I slept in a tad this morning, and by the time I was done exercising and showering, it was after 11. I was sitting in the chair in my room reading for a few minutes before going off to run my many errands, when I heard the sounds of a Fancypants howling pitifully. I assumed he’d gotten locked outside when I closed the door half an hour or so earlier, so I got up, finished drying my hair, and headed downstairs to let him in and be on my way. Only, when I opened the back door, he wasn’t there. I checked the garage, the bathroom, and the closet, calling his name in a goofy high-pitched voice, the entire time. I only use that particular voice to talk to him, and he knows it’s the Fancy Voice. He was nowhere to be found downstairs, so I went back upstairs and started looking behind closed doors – Fred’s room, the guest bedroom, the closet, and finally the small closet. When I opened the door to the small closet, he came running out like a bat out of hell, then flounced around at the top of the stairs and let the other cats sniff at him. Poor Fancypants! Fred opened that closet door to get rags to clean cat pee off the floor (Tubby took it upon himself to pee on a sheet I’d left on the floor to express his displeasure at my shoddy housekeeping, the little bastard) and left the door open. When I came out of the bedroom and headed downstairs, I muttered a few curses ("Never SHUTS the damn door, what, am I the ONLY one who knows how to shut doors around here?!") and shut the door. Where Fancypants was apparently hiding. And where he stayed from 9:40 last night until 11:something this morning, the poor guy. Of course, my sympathy for him will only last until he poos in the hallway instead of the litter box again. ]]>

March calendar that Willa created just for that purpose (for people to use as desktops, I mean – not for me, specifically). Far and away my favorite calendar is a Gary Patterson calendar I discovered online somewhere by following one link to another to another, where I found this page (unfortunately, it’s sold out). But fortunately for you, I scanned a couple of the calendar headings. We may not have quite this many cats, but when I wake up and see two cats at the foot of the bed, one snuggled up next to me, another sprawled on the floor and one in the bathroom chomping down the food as fast as he can, I feel like this picture pretty well describes my life. I wish our litter box was this small, but I’m sure the cats would take a cue from Fancypants and poo in places other than the box. The other calendar is one that I picked up in Maine, with Maine scenery at the top of each month, which you might think makes me homesick for Maine, but get a look at this month’s picture and you’ll probably see why that ain’t so. I mean, it probably doesn’t look much like that in Maine right now, but it’s probably a tad colder than the 60-something degrees it is around here these past few days. And speaking of the warm spring-like weather, my daffodils are FINALLY starting to bloom. Well, two of them have bloomed, but the others are very close to blooming. And bright yellow, happy daffodils are pretty close to my favorite thing in the world. Aside from the spud, Fred, Miz Poo, Mr. Fancypants (sometimes), and all of you, that is. I’ll be damned if they don’t smell like Spring, too. While I’m making this a picture-licious entry, I took the spud to have her eyes checked, and just like her momma (that’d be me) she’s got the near-sightedness going on. I got glasses when I was 8 or 9, though, so maybe she’ll end up not quite as blind as I. She picked the glasses out herself, and I think they look pretty good on her, don’t you? Ah, but it would be hard to find anything to make her look bad, yes indeedy. I finally got a chance to watch The Osbournes last night, and it cracked me up. I had a hard time hearing what they all said, because they’re a family o’ mumblers, but it made me laugh all the same, especially watching Ozzy trying to figure out the remote control. I’m going to have to start kicking Fred off to bed Tuesday nights so that I can watch it, instead of trying to remember to tape it. We watched the first hour of the 9/11 documentary and taped the second, which we may watch tonight instead of Boston Public, since Fred’s not terribly into that show anymore. I was sitting at my desk this morning, and caught sight of a movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned my head to look, and saw Miz Poo, walking through the front of the yard. Apparently, she found the gap in the fence between our yard and the next door neighbor’s, slunk through it, out their open gate, and did some sniffing around. When I opened the door and said "Miz Poo! Are you SUPPOSED to be out here?!", she chirped at me, and ran inside. I guess we need to do something about blocking that gap, because y’all KNOW it would break my heart if she ran away or got lost. I doubt she’d run away, though. She knows how good she’s got it, believe me. The Mad Shitter, on the other hand, has my blessing to run as far as his fancy ass will carry him. ]]>

When I was talking about the stuff I found in my filing cabinet that made me laugh, I forgot the one that makes me laugh for no apparent reason. I saw it in Kymm’s forum almost two years ago, and printed it out. I’m going to just type it in here instead of going to look for the message and linking to it. The thread was about strange dreams, and the part of the message that made me laugh is this:

Had a strange dream the other night. I was cleaning the office at home and found a ream of printed out email messages in the recycling bin. Reading them, I foudn they were hardcopy of email messages our cat Finnegan had been sending to cats at his former place of residence. It turned out he had been raised in a California laboratory and had a scientifically enhanced intellect. Finnegan was fully capable of using our computer, although as he put it in one of his messages, "It takes some effort to manipulate the mouse." He said in his messages that he was enjoying living in Canada and was quite happy with his new humans. "I am residing with three other cats. Abby and Megan are normal females, who can have a temper if pressed too hard. Sam, I fear, is quite gay. I come to this conclusion by the fact that he keeps jumping on me and trying to bite the nape of my neck. Still, all in all, a right old fellow.

Know what made me laugh so hard I cried, and even now when I think about it, I grin and giggle involuntarily? The idea of a cat using the word "manipulate." I’m sitting here laughing my ass off, just typing it! I have no problem, apparently, with the cat having an enhanced intellect, or sneaking about to use the computer. But having to make some effort to manipulate the mouse?

That’s fucking comic gold, right there.

I’ve been meaning to mention this all week – I taped The Vagina Monologues off HBO several weeks ago, and one day last week I finally sat down to watch it. If you haven’t seen it, you have to, especially if you’re a woman. I was laughing my ass off one moment and crying the next.

Sounds like a generic movie review, doesn’t it? "I laughed! I cried! I wondered if it was almost time for lunch!"

Honestly, though, it was way better than I was expecting. Usually when there’s a big buzz about a particular movie, I get all hyped to watch it, and then it ends up sucking in a big, bad way (I’d offer an example, but my mind is blank). It’s not out on dvd or video yet, but when it is, you can believe I’ll be first in line to buy it.

And speaking of movies, we watched Silent Bob and Jay Strike Back last week, and it was pretty damn funny. I’ve loved some of Kevin Smith’s movies (Clerks, Dogma) and not cared for others (Chasing Amy) and even missed one (Mallrats), but I’m giving Silent Bob and Jay two thumbs up. There were so many inside jokes that if you blinked you’d miss one, and the scene with Ben Affleck and Matt Damon shooting Good Will Hunting 2 was about the funniest thing I’ve seen in a while.

I always say that everything’s the funniest thing I’ve seen in a while, don’t I? Well, shut up. It was funny!

So, if you have pedestrian, lowbrow tastes like mine, you’ll love it, too.

On Survivor last night, as Sarah was being all sorts of annoying, I finally realized who she reminded me of: Lindsey from Survivor: Africa. Only, I couldn’t remember her name, so I said to Fred, "She looks JUST like the chick from Africa… what’s her name? You know, I’m a STRONG woman! Wahhhh!", and I made a big, exaggerated crybaby face.

He knew who I meant right away, and agreed on the resemblance.

As always, it’s taking me some time to figure out who’s on which team, and as for the team names, they might as well not even exist, because I can’t remember them for the life of me, despite the fact that they flash the team names 45,000 times during each show.

By the time I figure out who’s on what team and who I like (though I’ll state unequivocally right here: Hunter? Love him.), it’ll be time for the merge.

I’m liking the island scenery (and the Hunter scenery!) an awful lot.

Friday Five:

1. What makes you homesick? Watching ocean scenery, actually. I don’t get seriously homesick, though, I never have.

2. Where is “home” for you? Is it where you are living now, or somewhere else (ie: Mom & Dad’s house, particular state/city)? I consider where I am to be home, but I also consider Maine to be home as well, though I’ve noticed the last few times I went to Maine in the summer, my parents’ house didn’t feel as homey to me as it used to.

3. What makes it home for you? People? Things? People (Spud and Fred), and the cats (specifically Miz Poo). Anything else – even the computer, if necessary – I could live without.

4. Where is the furthest you’ve been from home, miles-wise? We lived in Guam for two years when I was in second and third grade, which is about as far from Maine as you can get. Other than that, I visited California a couple of times when the spud was very little and I was still married to the ex.

5. What are your plans for this weekend? A little cleaning, a little napping, and hopefully I’ll get my damn Gladiolus bulbs planted. Oh, and the spud has an eye appointment Saturday afternoon – she’s been having some trouble seeing the chalkboard at school, and I’m pretty sure she’s going to need glasses. Is it a coincidence that her eyesight is getting worse just as she’s getting into reading in a big way?

Y’all have a good weekend! 🙂

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