Friday, July 20, 2007

So, Day Two.

As some of you may know, I am home alone this weekend, because Chris is at a conference-thing in Reno. Well, Thursday morning to Saturday night, not exactly the weekend. But this means that I am moping about without my Love. I should be potting plants and getting air and sunshine, but I'm potting around online, instead.

This also means:
(a) I cannot get to the Midnight Ball at Borders (oh, you know I would have been there).
(b) Consequently, I have to wait to get my HP 7.0 until Saturday morning when I can catch the bus or bike over there, meaning like 20 more hours of waiting.
(c) Furthermore, I'm going to have to read like hell to finish it before Chris gets home, because I'm not going to be able to put it down and I'm not going to want to put him down when I haven't seen him in three days, and this presents a conflict.
(d) I'm finally, finally reading a little Online Fiction again (if you know what I mean, wink wink, nudge nudge)
(e) I've watched more bad TV in a night than I usually do in a month.
(f) I'm not behaving like a rational human being in general. Forgetting to eat/sleep/wash/etc, keeping odd hours, and so on.
(g) And last but certainly not least, it means that (in the immortal words of M.C.A.), it's time to get nice. In my time-honored tradition of dealing relatively unhappily, unintelligently, and harmlessly with our brief separations, I am hoping to be utterly potted within the next few hours.

Now, before I check out to hide from potential unintentional spoilers online, some brief announcements:

- Food is good for you.
- Mint, in baking, can hide a variety of sins.
- My laptop's hinges are about to break. I can FEEL IT. So stay tuned for the exciting conclusion of "My Six-Year Old Overused Laptop."
- My Chris gets killed off in the last HP book.
- During his trip, however, he has not yet shot a man, just to watch him die. (Corollary: When he hears that lonesome whistle, he does not hang his head and cry.)
- One of the main offices of the group I work for is in Santiago, Chile--and I am reading a story by someone in Santiago Chile. Coincidence??!?! (Experts agree: yes.)
- I am currently, inexplicably wishing I had non-metallic, very saturated, bubble-gum pink nailpolish. Experts are baffled.

And this just in: the bed's too big without you.

And they're still picking up the bodies.

I have officially completed my first pay period, for work. And you know what that means: I'm about to become a taxpayer.

It's very exciting.

Wednesday, July 4, 2007

I am wearing guitar-pick earrings.

Hi, folks, just a brief update. Mostly because I haven't given y'all any update.

So: I am alive and well and flourishing!

Work is fantastic. I made it through my first full week, and got two months worth of finances in order and sent off in just a few days. Chris and I have been writing music like mad, and it's good. The cat is eating again, finally, and taking antibiotics at a lower rate (and still doing okay--knock on wood). I am off antibiotics again (I was on them again), and this time, the root canal* seems to actually have stopped the problem. My tomatoes and basil are finally booming, and we've gotten an FT of both. This is because it has been hot. In fact, it has been fucking hot (104˚F, today, for instance--40˚C), but we were able to borrow a lot of movies from the library to keep us busy, keep us inside in the cool, and sate my newfound Peter O'Toole obsession. We've seen, very recently: Lawrence of Arabia, The Great Escape, Lion in Winter, Some Like it Hot, Bright Young Things, How to Steal a Million, The Exorcism of Emily Rose, Sweet Charity, Annie Hall, 1408, and Wilde, as well as re-watched Blood and Donuts, Peter's Friends, and a fair bit of Eddie Izzard standup, recorded Lord Jim and a lot more Eddie Izzard standup to watch soon, and still have Triplets of Belleville, Time Bandits and Awakenings awaiting. We read Orlando, and are working through How I Became a Nun (and I am reading Mansfield Park and Guards! Guards!). We had a cheesey indoor 4th of July feast, today, and tomorrow is our THREE YEAR anniversary of moving in together (the really important one, we feel). We've had lots of good sex and good food, which I seem to be digesting,** and I have been happily and thoroughly exploring the Cocktail book my mother gave me (along with the 501-Must-See-Movies book, which has been aiding in other pursuits mentioned above). We're*** getting Petr Sykora, and getting to keep Christensen and Whitney, though we wanted Hannan, as well. I feel like I'm actually getting better at playing the piano, again, on account of having the freedom to actually sit down and play one. T-minus-9 days to Order of the Phoenix, and T-minus-17 days to Deathly Hollows.

I think that is probably enough to digest all at once. I love and miss you all, and I will sit down and catch up on all of your journals soon. Very soon. I hope. I am, unusually, currently more available by email than by journal-commenting, so try it out if you wanna'. I'll try not to be too much of a flake. I hope you are all WELL.


*This is the third root canal. My teeth were the Communism-Domino-Theory in action, but they've now been cut the fuck off at the pass. No more horrendous aaaooowh in the teeth, TYVM.
**Not always the case. If it's a digestive fluke with an acronym, I've probably got it.
***This contraction stands for "The Penguins, of whom we are fans, are"