February 14, 2007

American Pit Bulls!

Just the best. I wonder where one gets them on the West Coast.

[Confidential to A the H: I'm asking for a friend.]

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January 14, 2007

"Oh, Ick."

"What?" Attila the Hub is concerned.

"They made my martini with vodka, rather than gin. Do you know why?"

He appears to sigh, just a little. "Why?"

"Because of the patriarchy, silly. It's the same reason I have dry skin."

He raises an eyebrow. "Dry skin is caused by patriarchy?"

I take a sip of my thoroughly inadequate drink. "Absolutely. The Man is keeping me from getting my share of emollients. And gin. Just like in the Third World: not enough hand lotion, and too much vodka. And women bearing the brunt of it."

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January 04, 2007

After Lunch with She Who Will Not Practice Law,

I confide in her rather earnestly that I'm considering growing up this year.

She giggles. "Don't be hasty," she tells me.

"Oh, I'm not going to just jump in blindly," I assure her. "I'm still doing a cost-benefit analysis."

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December 29, 2006

What Is It About the End of the Year?

I have a long list of things to do, and yet none of them really sing out to me.

"Oh, duty, duty—
Why hast thou not the visage of a sweetie, or a cutie?"

—Ogden Nash


Of course, I was genuinely under the weather for a few days. But still . . .

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December 15, 2006

"Okay, see you later."

"Of course," he replies. "I might bail on my own party, and decide to shadow you instead."

"That's fine," I tell him as I put on mascara. "Did you want to verify that the guys I'll be talking to at the party are gay?"

"Of course. I might just emerge from the shadows and demand that they sing show tunes. Just to be safe."

"Fair enough." And I put on my lipstick.

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December 14, 2006

"We're Getting Together for Chanukah,"

he informs me. "And we'll have latkes. My mother makes excellent latkes."

"Will you be eating beef brisket?" I ask.

There is a pause. Then he remarks, "you must know a lot of Jews."

"Define 'a lot,'" I request.

And he has no answer.

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December 13, 2006

I Just Took the Day Off.

That wasn't my original plan, but that's what I did. Unless one wants to credit me for the housework I did, or classify the mysteries I read as "research," or characterize exercise as being work, or give me the benefit of a doubt and assume I'll be productive during the night tonight.

Which is possible. But I don't care much. Because I'm grabbing more reading material, and going back to bed. Please don't bug me unless the house is burning down, okay?

See you tomorrow. It's been an intense several weeks.

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December 11, 2006

Last Week

. . . is finally over. I had a three-week cycle to put together the newsletter for my non-profit, so the art director and I had to crank to make that happen. Meanwhile, both the Chair and the Vice Chair of the organization were out, so I had to chair both the big meetings this past Saturday.

Meanwhile, last week was also the "on" week for my daytime proofreading job, and I was still getting over that wacky virus as the week started out.

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December 10, 2006

Do You Remember When You Were a Teenager?

Pretending to be half asleep, hoping to fend off an attack? And knowing that if there were one, you could "come to life" suddenly and hold your own?

Do you remember how it never quite worked out, though logic dictated that it would?

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November 30, 2006

Eeek!

Writer's group tonight, and I don't have a thing to wear read.

I'm also scrambling on my volunteer/underpaid work for the nonprofit, and begin my bimonthly stint at the magazine tomorrow. All while other clients scream at me from the sidelines (including my father, who would like me to actually do the things he's paid me for; this seems a bit unreasonable, of course).

Blogging will be light, possibly until the end of time.

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November 25, 2006

Reprise Dinner

. . . is tomorrow. Usually when we have Thanksgiving dinner at someone else's place I cook an additional turkey at home. Often, it happens on the day after, but this time I'll be roasting a nine-pounder tomorrow, when we get back from church.

And then? Planes, Trains & Automobiles,of course.

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My Traffic Last Week

. . . climbed while I was out of town. This is either a tribute to Cal Tech Girl's prowess, or a delicate way my readers have of suggesting that the best way to increase my hits is to stop writing.

Not that I'm hurt, mind you.

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Hm. I Seem To Be Developing Narcolepsy.

But I'd rather have the door to sleep unlocked, versus locked—and a prison once I'm in it.

One of the officers on board the Titanic was asked how he could have slept through the hubbub that ensued when the ship hit the iceberg: "we don't get too much sleep," he replied. "So when we do sleep, we die."

These days I get drowsy, and it's delightful. I can nap at will, without fearing that I'll be out of commission for 18 hours—mostly.

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November 24, 2006

To Tell You the Truth . . .

there is something deeply neurotic about someone who persists in cleaning off her glasses, and then pouring another gin and tonic, so the fizzy water jumps back up onto the lenses.

I have, um. An acquaintance. She does this sort of thing. Sisyphean, no?

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November 19, 2006

Officially Under the Weather.

Yesterday I got a couple of headaches during the day, but I didn't think much of it: I figured it was dehydration. Got light-headed a few times as we were setting up for the big monthly meetings. And my runny nose I chalked up to being in a meeting room with too many donated/dusty couches. Got chills though, late last night: my teeth chattered.

I slept 17 hours, and I'm still sniffly, dehydrated, and tired. So it's either some sort of little bug, or post-stress exhaustion. Yet tomorrow and Tuesday will be crunch days, so I'm "power-resting" right now. I need to get a lot done before we drive up to the Bay Area on Tuesday.

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November 16, 2006

Survey: What Should I Do With My Life?

A. Concentrate on my children's book.
B. Prepare for the inevitable divorce proceedings, once my husband sees just how badly the murder mystery sucks.
C. Throw myself into my nonprofit work.
D. Try to get some short stories published.
E. Work on that memoir thingy.
F. Drink red wine, and eat salad made with butter lettuce.
G. Get a real job.

UPDATE: Alphabet now alphabetized.

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I Call Hog.

"I'd like to see you," I tell him. "Once I'm past these deadlines."

"Do you have a recent picture?" He asks.

"Nothing under a year old. And I've put on some weight since then."

"I'm kind of busy lately," he remarks. "Why don't I give you a Yahoo address, and you can write me there . . . ?"

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November 14, 2006

Good Question. I've Wondered About It Myself.

B: "Am I self-centered, or is it just me?"

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November 13, 2006

So, Down at the Alano Club

I'm hanging out with young R, and his friend the college student. R mentions that he's got a crush on a 35-year-old woman, and his friend remarks, "you can learn a lot from these older women."

I try not to smile.

He turns to me and starts, "you know, speaking of which—" and then catches sight of my left hand. "You're married. Say, do you happen to have a daughter?"

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November 08, 2006

Why Would a Person Need Internet Porn

. . . when they have menopausal dreams?

Oh, wait—not everyone's that lucky, are they? Sorry, guys: your loss.

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