I keep thinking of things to write about while I’m in the shower, but by the time I get to a place where I could write anything down, I’ve forgotten them.
I woke up singing Huey Lewis songs the other morning. I haven’t heard Huey Lewis in YEARS, and my clock radio is set on a mariachi station (I have told you about Cole’s fascination with Mariachi music and the Spanish stations in general, haven’t I?) so I truly don’t know where it came from. Perhaps I just really wanted a new drug…?
I still like Huey Lewis, despite every reason why I shouldn’t. It is, like D&D; and The Gummi Bears, nostalgic.
I just slammed out a meeting agenda outline in, like, 5 minutes. Go me.
I was supposed to have done it… ummm… a while ago.
Mmmm… Three Musketeers Bar…
Ughh… Three Musketeers Bar…
Perhaps I don’t look terribly “cool,” (yeah- when DO I?!) but I prefer the full-ear headphones (I mean the REALLY big ones) to ear-buds. I feel like ear-buds stretch out my ears. They hurt! And, somehow, I manage to destroy them in about a second.
I have SO much to do in the next 4.5 working days (OMG! 4.5!!) before I leave for vacation, yet I can’t seem to settle into actually doing it. My brain is already on the beach eating Thai curry leftovers from dinner the night before and watching Cole stuff sand down his bathing suit. Ahhh… Good times…
I’m now on Twitter (though I prefer to think of my messages as “twitterings” rather than “tweets.” “Tweets” is somehow too reminiscent of “queefs,” which, if you do not understand, I recommend not looking up. If you DO understand, my Mom’s the one who taught me, so you can’t effectively tattle, AND it probably explains A LOT about me. AT ANY RATE! “Twitterings” just sounds more delicate. Like me. For I am a delicate flower. Or a little fluttering bird.) and I feel like a freshman in high school- awkward, stupid, and lost. Where’s the band room again?
But it’s fun, too. Y’all are hilarious NON-STOP. When do you breathe? On your pee breaks? Do you even take time out of the hilarity to pee? Is that my problem? Too many pee breaks to effectively be funny? Because I’m really working on getting it down to one pee per day.
All this tea doesn’t help.
Fat dog with gravy veins is very sad. No more treats! She couldn’t even get her butt back into the car when we left the vet. I had to lift her hind-end in.
(No, I’m not talking about myself!!) (Yet!!) (OMG- More Three Musketeers Bars? For me?!)
Everyone at the vet kept saying that she’s an “old dog,” yet I don’t think of her as old. Perhaps it’s one of those things where you’re too close to it to see it happening because it happens by degree, kind of like kids growing up or baldness. I guess, now that I’ve really looked at her again, she IS getting rather old. She’s got white all over her face and her eye condition makes her look blind (and it nearly makes her blind, so I guess that’s appropriate). She’s roughly 9 years old now, though we don’t know for sure seeing as we adopted her as an adult. While we were at the vet, a woman came in and gave her a scritch on her ears before going to the desk and breaking down in tears. When she left she was holding a small wooden box. When will the day come when I’ll leave holding a similar box? The damn dog bugs the shit out of me, but I somehow still love her to pieces. Stupid animals- making you care about them and shit.
Does anybody have more Three Musketeers Bars?