Screw you very much!

The only thing I took away from this summer's health care "debate" - or really, rather, the town hall meetings - is that the most important person in the United States is me. Not me, Molly Malone, but "me," the person at the center of the universe whoever "me" is, wherever "me" is, whatever "me" does and whatever "me" believes. "Me" is so important that it's fine for "me" to interrupt, shout down, berate and shut out the "other" who is trying to implore my help, change my opinion or simply give me his/her perspective on a situation. While I understand and trust that most town halls went off without much drama - maybe just some folks with signs, but damnit, this is America and I'm all about political expression, whether or not I agree with you - the stereotype of the town hall health care "debate" seems to be a good example of the lack of civility in this country, not for the good of the whole, but for the good of "me."

I ran into a couple examples of this yesterday. I'd just spent the weekend in Texas with my husband's family, feeling the milk of human kindness (I love them so much), only to be greeted with the vinegar of "me-ness."

Some background: I'm between 4 and 5 months pregnant with our first child. Because getting to this point in our family-building journey has been a physical and emotional torment I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy, this pregnancy is not something we take lightly, nor is it something we're entirely comfortable advertising. But we've moved past the letting those who need to know, know, to being more public, if for no other reason than I've got an obvious bump, now. (It is also not my current intention to discuss it much on this blog, hereafter, but I can't promise it won't come up.)

Yesterday morning, Honey and I rose early to catch one of the first flights back east from DFW. I ate a small bowl of Raisin Bran and washed it down with some orange juice. I'd been eating that same breakfast for two or three days at his grandparents' house to no ill effect. Apparently, yesterday morning was different. As we drove to the airport, I knew something was amiss. As soon as I had a chance to find a ladies room, I hurled. I've been lucky in that I've not had much morning sickness, and what I have had hasn't haunted me much. Nonetheless, I felt nauseous for quite some time after.

Honey and I were supposed to sit one behind the other in middle seats on the flight back. They were the only seats left when we booked the flight last month. I was hoping, however, that maybe some kind person would swap the aisle with me so I could have easier access to the lav in case the bagel I was using to calm my post-puke nausea decided to take the same exit as the cereal. That kind person was not in my row. That guy said he really liked the aisle. That kind person was not in my husband's row. "Not for a middle-seat," he shook his head. I explained to both of them that I was experiencing morning sickness, but neither man seemed to care. Thanks, guys.

Luckily, nothing came back up, but I did have a few moments that were gag-worthy. But hey, they got theirs, so that's all that mattered. If I was the kind of person who stubbornly refused to swap seats on a crowded aircraft, I would say this was just my airplane karma. But I'm not. When flying alone, I've swapped seats so people can sit with their party, before (I hate seeing parties separated on airplanes), without giving a thought as to which seat in the row it is. I've even surrendered my coveted window-seat for a teenager who was a first-time flyer, moving to the middle, so that she could see outside more clearly for reassurance. That was actually a rewarding experience: She was terribly nervous. I held her hand during take off and talked her through the initial motions of the plane, and then did the same during landing. I felt very honored to have shared the moment with her, to have calmed her.

What irks me most is: I don't care whether I'm pregnant or not, and it was a request, so it was theirs to deny, but are these men so adamant about holding their aisle seat that they show no mercy to one who is sick? If I were recovering from food poisoning, would they be okay to let me vomit in their laps or shit my pants because they got theirs? (I'm sure the puke bags never get it all.) If I were elderly with a weak bladder, would they still insist on the aisle seat? And neither of them got up during the flight on their own. I had to pee a couple of times, so my guy moved. But the guy next to Honey never did. His row spent all three hours sitting. Why the hell do you want the aisle if you're not going to use it yourself? If you were just going to sit for 3 hours, could you not have sat in the middle seat? I wonder if these guys give up their seats on the bus and subway for the elderly or disabled, as signs request.

But if you can't rely upon the kindness of strangers, we can at least rely upon the decency of neighbors, right? Wrong!

For the last month, or so, there's been some silliness abrew in our neighborhood. Apparently, our neighborhood association board denied a couple of requests for some minor architectural changes that homeowners wanted to implement on their homes. I don't agree with the denials - I'm not a fan of homeowners associations to begin with - but we all signed the paperwork when we bought, so we knew that a board would have right of refusal. A handful of neighbors are rather tired of the tight restrictions and have petitioned the board to have a special meeting where they will likely address the rules for proposed rewrite. Sounds good to me.

Yesterday I came home to discover that another family, however, has been so aggravated that they've filed at least one lawsuit against the board, filing against specific board-members. Our neighbors. But they've cloaked it under: because the trusts that the association invests its dues in lost money in 2008, these board members were at fault. Seriously? You're going to sue because our investments lost money in 2008? Do you understand that investments go up and down and that every fucking person in 2008 lost money? And you're going to sue by name, as if these people don't have their own real problems to deal with? You're going to sue your neighbors, by name - not even the corporate entity - under the guise of Wall Street failure because, essentially, you're sour that the admittedly ridiculously strict guidelines deny you the privilege of building a sundeck?

There are many things we'd like to do to this house, and many which we may have to run in with the stupid board restrictions about. Some may be worth fighting for, but none are worth suing over. If the board was leaving bags of flaming dog shit on your porch, sue. If a segment of the neighborhood was prone to hurl epithets at you and the board did nothing to address it, sue. If the neighborhood was otherwise making your life a living hell, sue. But if you're just sour over the board denying you a cosmetic change to your well-built house that would still fetch a shit-load of money even in this market, suck it up. Your "me-ness" is hurting other people.

Of course, I can't claim to be above the "me." We live in a time, and in a country that prizes the individual over the community. I've been writing ad copy for car companies this summer and the track I tend to take is, this car is all about "you." We like thinking "me" is something special. I like thinking I'm something special. But I also hope I live with enough humility to concede when the good of the other is greater than my desire.

Back and tired

I should probably do a fuller post, but I have to be into work early today and I'm tired this morning, so I'm not thinking in full sentences.

We are back from Hawaii. The highlights were a couple of stunning and challenging hikes - one on Oahu and one on Kauai - and a helicopter tour of Kauai. The lowlights were an all-day rain on Kauai followed by food poisoning on my part which resulted in two days stuck in a hotel room. The rainy day was okay, because we just hung out inside and read, watched movies and created a project for ourselves. The food poisoning day majorly sucked for obvious reasons, but also because we had planned on spending the sick day exploring the south and west side of the island. Those plans were condensed to the final day.

I'm still recovering from jet lag. I normally don't have this much trouble, but I normally also travel forward in time - ie, east - and return from that. Hawaii was the furthest back in time I'd ever traveled and then returned from. They're six hours behind us. Honey reminded me that we've been to Hong Kong, but as that's across the international date line, technically, that's moving forward in time as well. The westward flying cancels out the forward time travel, in my opinion. But then again, maybe I'm just getting older. Alack-a-day!

Anyway, until I have a proper post, I thought I'd leave you with a photo or two from our time there.

(Some of the feral cocks and chickens that are all over Kauai. I mean all over. ... and yes, I loved saying "feral cocks" while we were there.)

(Diamond Head Crater and Honolulu, viewed from the head of the Hawaii Loa Trail.)

What's Molly Dreaming Now? Aloha!

It's been weeks. I know. Not only me transmitting, but me receiving. Sorry y'all. That's the bad news. The good news? We're leaving on vacation this morning for two weeks. So guess what I'll be doing? Catching up on reading your blogs! And hopefully, blogging as well.

We're off to Hawaii! Woohoo!

Here's what I'm so far most excited about. I slept last night! Typically, the night before a travelling, long-ish vacation, I sleep very little. But last night, I fell right asleep and got some good REM sleep, at that.

What did I dream? That I was back in desert West Texas town of my youth. But this time, I was a grown up, with my parents and brother. We were back at the house we lived in there. It was late Easter Sunday or maybe the day after. My childhood dog was there, as were some miniature dachsunds we apparently had inherited from friends. What was different was that this time in this dream, I was with my family and I wasn't just gasping for breath with joy for being there. I was at peace, and happy, but almost indifferent. I say almost, because I was still very happy. I just didn't feel compelled to stay for better or for worse - which, in my dreams, I normally do.

Ponder my brain. I've got a plane to catch and some islands to visit. I'll catch up with y'all in the coming days!

Three Beautiful Things ... to pull me up

I've had a rather rough week (hence the last post with the boat, "The Heartbreaker"). I've been crying a lot and trying to cope with the implications of yet another defeat that is so absolutely beyond my control, and frankly, beyond that of just about anyone else. Today, I've been trying very hard to focus on fleeting moments of beauty and blessings small and large that are so easy to overlook in the dense fog of sorrow. So, in the vein of Clare, here are three beautiful things for which I am truly grateful this week.

1. Happy, wiggly puppy. God must've known I needed some fresh warm fuzzy, because right out side the door to my office, as I left tonight, was a 4 month old Australian Blue Heeler being walked by her mom. After getting permission from her mother to greet her, I approached her, speaking in my best puppy-loving voice. The fuzzy baby was both shy and terribly excited to meet me - alternately hugging close to her mom's legs and running up to me. There is nothing more adorable than a puppy in its wobbly, uncoordinated phase when life is new, everything is a delightful discovery and every stranger is just a friend she hasn't met.

2. My girlfriend's daughter. My good friend Earthmother and American Dad, her husband, were in town for a few days and spent Sunday with us. Their 4-year-old is going through a princess phase, despite her parents' encouraging her inherent tomboy nature. She can't totally shake the tomboy: during our pasta dinner, she took it upon herself to strip down to her waist to avoid getting dirty. But she's still eager for tiaras: while watching Wall-E for the first time in our basement, she kept turning to her father saying, "here come the princesses!" Hope springs eternal, doll. (For you and me, both.)

3. Genuine vacation coming our way. Because of family obligations, combined with the limited amount of vacation time, it looked like our vacation this year would be dictated by weddings and not by our own want for a new getaway. But because Honey is a fucking badass at what he does, it looks like that's changed. Honey received the highest award given within his company - awarded annually to only 10 out of the 10s of 1000s of employees in the company - for his badassery. Now, while I've worked in corporations who laud their employees with restaurant gift certificates or maybe a cash prize of $200, Honey works in a company that lavishes much better, IMHO. In addition to a swanky dinner with the company brass, and a token plaque, we're getting a choice of vacations including a cruise in the Bahamas or a trip to Hawaii, among the options. Those are the two we're most attracted to. Frankly, I'm more drawn to Hawaii, since I've never been there and after years of adamantly not wanting to go ("oh you MUST go!" sh'yeah, right. see 4), I'm finally interested. So, screw company time limitations. Life's too short not to take vacation just because some greedy corporation won't pay for an extra few days. I'm already so proud of Honey for all his badassery. I'm doubly proud that I'm not the only one who sees his genius. And I'm supergrateful that it's going to give us a genuine vacation. We need a genuine vacation so badly.

I'm a Wreck Because of a Stupid Wreck

Right now would be a good time for a cry, but I can't quite bring myself to do it. Today sucked. I wish I could say it was a bunch of big, consequential things, but really, it was a bunch of little things that all revolved around a medium-sized thing and aggravated by some other things. Things! Things! Things! ARGH!

To begin with, it was rainy all day. Rain in the winter rarely inspires happiness. I began my day with a visit to my therapist for the first time in months. It was good catching up with her, but visiting reminded me of how in limbo I feel right now and I've got elephants in my room to deal with and the biggest one I really have very little control over and the other two I'm not sure I'm managing well. Basically, it sucked having to confront the uglies.

After therapy, and a light lunch, I headed to an exurb of the city to buy cheap liquor for my husbands' employees. He's a really good boss (IMHO) and gives his employees rum for the holidays each year. I'm happy to play Santa. But it was raining, and though I'm familiar with the route to this banal bedroom community, I hydroplaned instead of turning with the curve of the highway and crashed up on the median, head-on, driving over the reflector. I really think this threw me off all fucking day.
A stupid hydroplaning wreck.

I was rattled and humiliated. As soon as my car came to a stop - which it wasn't doing AT ALL as I applied the brakes - I called Honey. Don't know why; I probably should've called 911, but I was unhurt, the car was out of harms' way of other cars and the airbag didn't even deploy. I was bracing for it to, but it didn't. Fucking wreck. I could see it coming and I tried to stop it and there was little I could do. (How much of a metaphor for my health concerns these days is this, by the way??) I'm just glad I was in the outer lane that bordered the median, otherwise I would've almost certainly hit another car.

I called 411, since I wasn't hurt, but was placed on hold and as soon as I ... wait a second, I should've called 311 in a non-emergency. Shit. I couldn't even remember that. Anyway, as soon as I was hanging up with them to call 911, a fire engine pulled up behind me. The fireguy who looked like a short Dennis Quaid walked me through getting unstuck from the median, inspecting the underside of my car for damage, and refilling oil. I felt like such a dolt. Yeah, I was going too fast in the rain and I've not checked my oil level in months. Ugh. Driving off, I felt a mild tug on the driver's side front wheel, so Honey called to tell me about a nearby garage which was a few blocks from the liquor store.

But still, my plans were thrown off. Instead of getting to the liquor store, getting the rum and returning to do some shopping for Honey and family, as well as some much-needed proofreading, I had to take my car to the shop to make sure I'd survive the ride home. As it was near a mall, I decided to walk up to the mall, in the cold winter rain that turned my umbrella inside out at one point, and do a little shopping there. But I hate shopping malls, as a rule, and particularly during Christmas. I bought a few things for Honey, and then started looking for a new bra for me, but didn't find any in my fantastic new fit-just-for-me size. And I really hate that exurb and that mall. And it blew having to be stuck here when I knew the store I wanted to visit today was no where near this bloody leech-town.

The good news is that, though my front end was indeed thrown significantly out of alignment, the repair was manageable. Less than $100, which I guess is all I can ask for. The liquor store had all the rum I needed and gave me a discount. And I still had time to make more truffles when I got home tonight to bring with me to my show. And Honey, dear, sweet Honey, cleared his schedule for the afternoon and came home early to make sure I was alright.

But this stupid wreck threw off my groove for the whole bloody day. It began to feel like everything I touched broke. Seriously: two items I handled at the mall either broke or somehow didn't work right afterward; as I left for the show tonight, I dropped a glass bottle of tea on the floor as if it were a water wiener(almost shattered, but not quite); and during warm up, I screwed up a song for the team. Yea, me! I was going to have a good show, though. I could feel it. However ... As a whole, our show went well, but I wasn't pleased with my performance. My contribution was good, objectively speaking, but it just didn't feel good to me at all. What sucked worst was that after the show, people were so happy with how well it went and I just felt like I was was this side of awful. Frankly, I fell quickly into Debbie Downer mode and knew I needed to extract myself from people before I could really be a pain in the ass and they'd seek to drown me. So I fled. Not before feeding a few other people some chocolates.

It was such a minor wreck. The kind of thing people would normally blow off after the even. But it jarred me for the entire day. And I really wish I could just cry right now and have it done with, so I can have a good day and a good show tomorrow. Blech! Maybe I'll watch that video on YouTube about the British guys and their pet lion. That makes me cry.

Filmstuffs Friday

Okay, I know I said I would start adding new mixtapes each Friday, but I thought about and decided to move the mixtapes to Monday. Why? Better alliteration: "Mixtape Monday/Music Monday" and "Film Friday/Filmstuffs Friday" just sounds better.

Today, since I'm excited to go home even for a measley 25 hours, I thought I'd add some clips from movies I like that are filmed in (and usually based in) Texas.

CLOAK AND DAGGER - old lady at Alamo

It's probably been over 20 years since I've seen this movie. I was 14 before I ever went to the Alamo. I was so disappointed that it was way smaller than it looks movies. I loved this movie as a kid, but I can't remember much of it, now.

TRUE STORIES - "Hey Now"

This is one of my favorite movies. I love that David Byrne set the movie during the Texas Sesquicentennial - a whole year of crazy celebration in the state, ignored by everyone outside the state except Prince Charlie, apparently. This movie has everything I love: lonely characters, wierdos in general, lots of bright colors, suburban satire and musical numbers. This scene comes near the top of the film.

RUSHMORE - trailer

Filmed at Saint John's School in Houston. Pretty part of the city. I think my brother used to play lacrosse against them. I like Wes Anderson. Haven't seen this one in a decade. Need to revisit that!

NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN - trailer

Had to include this one. It was filmed in my old stomping grounds and for as dark and bleak as this film was, I thrilled everytime I recognized a mountain or vista. I was also just really impressed how well this movie captured the reticent West Texas man.

I feel like there's another clip I wanted to add, but I can't remember it right now. Eh.

Any movies filmed in your hometown/state that you like? It's always fun to spot a landmark.

Resurrecting Discipline

HA!

In order do resurrect something /someone, that entity had to have lived. I have never been terribly disciplined about anything in my life! (Save for birth control.) Nonetheless, now that the thesis - aka, Grendel - is slain, I recognize I need to get back into the habit of posting on a daily basis and cruising the blogs of friends. I'm sure there is plenty I could blog about today, but as I need to hurry to work, I'll just update and riff and then I need to get dressed and go.

Since my last post, I've been either traveling or traveled upon. My group took our gig on the road in late July where we performed at a marathon festival that included over 100 groups performing back to back to back for 56 hours. Of those, only 3 groups got standing ovations. We were one of them. Considering that included among those scores of groups were a smattering of highly talented professionals and some celebrities even - none of whom received that kind of audience accolade - we were all pretty sauced! Then Honey and I zipped to Texas on a much-needed visit to family. We saw my grandparents (which was good since I think this may have been the last time I see grandpa alive), his grandparents, some cousins, my parents, and lots of friends. And as Texas is a big state and we have pretty much our whole families there, we still missed a lot of people. It was a bit of a whirlwind, traveling up I-35 to see all these folks in the span of 4 days, but I'm glad we did it. We're in that cycle of life where everyone's either getting married/having babies or on the other end, breaking irreparably or dying. Being Home always makes me feel so good and though I'm happy when we're back at this home, I've found lately that I'm literally sick to my tummy when the plane leaves Texas, the last few trips. It just makes me sad to leave, even when there's something wonderful waiting for me in our East Coast home - like BabyDog and Cootie Cat.
... eh, bygones.
My parents followed us back up here and visited for most of last week. That was fun, but it is nice to have our house back. Last night, my best friend from adolescence arrived for a job interview, so we went out for a beer and bocadillos. We lunched with her in Austin 2 weeks ago, but we still had lots to catch up on. It's funny, I saw her maybe a total of twice in the last three years, and then this year, I see her twice in three weeks!

Now that Grendel is rotting in the Great Mead Hall (mmm, mead!) that is the school library, I find I have a teeny bit of free time on my hands. For now, I think I'm just going to enjoy it - especially since work is burbling towards a Vesuvius like eruption and my group is retooling for a bunch of shows this fall. But in the next few weeks, I'd like to start finding other ways to train my creative energy. There's a 10K I'd like to run this fall and I need to start training my soft, flabby self. Likewise, I need to get back into the habit of writing for fun. Maybe fix that horrible screenplay of mine. Eek! That reminds me: I still owe my friend an essay for his site. Schiesse!
Well, off to work! Happy Monday!

yadda, yadda, red wine random ramblings yadda

This will be a rather yammering blog. I've little of import to say (do I really ever?) and I'm drinking an uninspired Shiraz right now and will probably switch to rum and Coke soon. This reminds me of a funny moment relayed to me by a friend in college.

Rob, a guy with whom I went to college, was at a party with random and assundry people. He was (maybe still is) a non-drinker. He was having pleasant conversation with a drunk girl - mostly pleasant because, as was his wont, he was endlessly amused by the intoxication of others. At some point, she slurs the request to him, "Hey, can you get me a cum and roke?" And Rob, because he is wise, witty and hilarious, thinks for a second and replies, "well, I'm not sure about the roke ..." ... and that my friends is where to end the good story.

Things are looking up at my new job. Three weeks in, still at the bottom of the food chain, but now becoming more of a "team player." While I'm expected to clear a lot of the administrative backlog, I've also been recruited to help write the proposal for a multi-layered project that's been dropped in our laps with about a week's prep. The topic of the project is extremely uninteresting to me, and I know proposal writing is kind of like eating cold oatmeal. Nonetheless, I'm very excited because I'm writing for work!! My dream is to write the creative ends of work, soon, but for now, I'm psyched to be hashing out the perfunctory ends. Tomorrow, I'll dedicate a few hours to the proposal - which, since I'll be uninterrupted, unlike I am at work, I may actually finish in a few hours - and a few more to plunking away at my thesis.

Yesterday in my post, I included a picture of a cat napping between some be-denimed knees. My brief apologies to those who thought it was my cat. I forget that now I own a digital camera (one of the last households to get one; even behind my Flintstone parents) thus, so far, the only picture of my actual animal family online is that of BabyDog on my post-Christmas post. BabyDog is the Corgi in that one. I googled the phrase "cat napping in lap" or some variation thereof and grabbed one of the first pictures I saw. It does just so happen, however, that the cat pictured does, in fact, strikingly resemble CootyCat. The resemblance is so uncanny that Honey actually thought it was CootyCat. So, way to go, random stranger on Flickr: you've duped the daddy of a kitty cat!

It was highly satisfying to read that I made Sonnjea laugh. I wasn't sure I constructed that joke well, so I'm glad it flew. Yea!

A vacation I've been wanting to take for at least 9 or 10 years now is a week out to far west Texas, where I used to live. With graduation coming up soon, and friends and family in the Lone Star state starting to have babies more and our grandparents aging and ailing more (Grandpa has some surger coming up in March), I've fantasized that flying out to DFW or Houston and driving around the state would be a great summer vacation for a week and a half or so. Honey is averse to road trips, but I was raised on them. Unfortunately, I don't have the behind-the-wheel stamina that I had as a teen or younger adult. So we'll have to see. Nonetheless, Mom called today offering hers or Dad's car if we decide to pursue that route. That would mean flying into Houston, and borrowing their car to drive 4 hours up to DFW to visit our DFW gang, then 3 hrs back to Austin to visit our Austin friends and another hour to San Antonio to visit our San Antonio family and then another 8 to 10 hours west to far West Texas to visit my old stomping grounds where I need to make my spiritual peace. The 3 and 4 hour trips are nothing. Honey and I both have made those drives solo many times. It's the 8 to 10 hour drive west I'm concerned about. We've not done a trip like that in about 3 years. And even then, I was so unused to it that Honey did most of the driving. It's really unfair. When I was 18 I could've done that length with my eyes closed, solo. If we visit our Texas kin this year en state, it will probably end up being a triangle visit (DFW, Houston, Austin/SanAntonio). A trip far west takes so much time that if we ever get to do it, it will probably be years from now. For now, I think it may stay just a fantasy. ... especially since a good friend is talking about taking a joint trip to Disney World; and Honey and I are always up for a trip to see the Mouse. You've got to tend to your inner child, you know?

Funny: when I was growing up , Disney World was so geographically and financially beyond our means that a trip there seemed completely unattainable. It was far easier to drive 10 or 12 hours to Santa Fe, NM to drop $300; or 3 or 4 hours to Chihuahua, Mexico to drop $150. Nowadays, we are so airportically linked that Disney is far more attainable than say, the ruins of Bandelier, NM. The latter is too far beyond our geography and vacation clock. It makes me sad.

... now, off to the Cuba Libre! (Sonnjea, stick with what works for you. If you do decide you need to switch to rum, I recommend Capt. Morgan's Private Stock or some other Puerto Rican good stuff. Think of it as an investment into your future. Pay a little more to inspire your muse a little more!)

Gwyneth and Geysers

Nothing to say today, really. Just found this searing editorial about Gwyneth Paltrow that made me laugh like a monkey. I thought Virginia Gal would LOVE it. Particularly the bit about how Gwynnie rolls her eyes at American mores and how she thinks if Americans travelled abroad more we wouldn't be so uptight. Yeah, because the average American can really afford to travel to Europe all the time when s/he has only two weeks vacation a year total and is worried as hell about paying for their health insurance.

Also, how I spent my Easter: making coke geysers. We tried it with a 2 liter bottle of Coke, Seven Up and Diet Coke. The Diet Coke geyer was the highest.

A nibble

Found this on Found Magazine, today. I feel sorry for her. Especially because she's probably Italian. There's something sadder to me when Europeans act like dopey Americans or Australians. We Brittish Empire cast-offs gladly do crap like this. When old-worlders go for this, it just seems a little more pathetic. Regardless, though: I LOVE IT!

mmm ... avoidance

I have washed almost all the loads of laundry that have piled up in my bedroom for the last three weeks. They were threatening to unite and apply for their own zip code. Yes, the laundry needed to be done, and I'm very tempted to undertake a massive cleaning and organizing effort in my office as well, but the truth of the matter is, I'm really just avoiding what really needs to be done. I've got many articles to proofead and a take-home quiz for class tomorrow that has yet to see the outside of my backpack, and at some point, I need to get caught up with some short papers I have to write for another class.
The house always benefits from big school projects. Never are the mirrors less spotty, the laundry more clean, nor my office more organized than when I've an annoying deadline looming just days or hours away. Even this, my new blog, benefits from more pressing priorities. Certainly my entry today could wait. But no!
Why, I haven't really anything to write about.
I'm sure I'm boring my one imaginary reader, my hermit in Shropshire, with my nothing-to-write-about-ness. Sorry, Niamh. (I've named him Niamh.)
Incidentally, the tagline for the Shropshire tourist board is, "Can we tempt you...?" That sounds a bit like a sheepish plea, some half-hearted attempt. What do you mean, "can we tempt you...?" Not with an attitude like that! And not with noncomittal elipses trailing at the end of the question. Just get off your duff and tempt me, damnit! "The funniest thing to come out of Shropshire" at first blush doesn't inspire me to shell out the dough for a trip across the big pond the way a chance to participate in a "muy caliente" tomato orgy in Spain would. But to ask my permission to be seduced? What? Seduce, me Shropshire. Show me what you got. However, when I inquire about activities like dining in your area, please refrain from directing me to a site about a syndrome that sounds like the love child of acid reflux and wheat allergy. That is just unappetizing!