Lately, there has been a bird outside my window in the morning who whistles Volare. I am not making that up.
I wonder if the bird has a perm?
Apparently it's autumn here in North Carolina, finally, which is good, because the summer here is like the winter where I grew up, in Michigan. Let me be sure to tell you all about what Great Lakes were near me when I lived there. The point is, in the summer in the South and in the winter in Michigan you just stay inside and wait for it to be over.
Oh, you get the occasional "I love winter" asshole in the Mitten State, but I never associated with those people. "Oh, I love to SKI! And I love to SKATE! And I love to ICE FISH! And I can't get ENOUGH of fornicating with icicles!!"
Shaddup. You do NOT love winter in Michigan. NO ONE could love the winter there.
Not so long ago, Ned was at the train station and apparently there was a huge map of the U.S. "I looked at Michigan. Wow. It's really…north, isn't it?" Why, yes. It is.
I have this huge tree in my backyard, right when you walk out the door. I mean, not RIGHT there. You don't have to CRASH into it every time you open the screen door or anything. But I love that tree, and this week it is its prettiest.
Also, the leaves are all over the deck, which I like, and which I don't have to worry about, because this really nice guy who works for Peg and now for me comes over and cuts the lawn and weeds and rakes the leaves for TWENTY-FIVE DOLLARS. I know! Someone should tell him he undercharges. But that person is not gonna be me.
Really, she hasn't aged a bit. Bitch totally Botoxes.
I also decided to take Lily, who is 100% an indoor cat except that time she ran out the door for no reason and I couldn't find her for a horrifying hour, outside to frolic in the leaves. And by "frolic" I mean stand terrifiedly on the shelf on my deck.
I propped the deck chairs against that shelf to protect them from the elements, sort of. I guess I should go to town and get those chair covers, shouldn't I?
Iris is DYING to be outdoor cat. Maybe it's cause when she was a kitten I'd take her out and hold her on my lap, so it's my own fault.
In other news, because at this point Hulk has hung himself from a giant noose, I had dinner with Daniel Boone last night.
In case you just got here or you're from Poland or Ethiopia, I dated Daniel Boone for a brief and tragic time last year. Then we didn't talk at all, then a few months ago I heard from him, and now we are friends. FRIENDS.
I am impervious to any man but Ned. Seriously. WE ARE FRIENDS.
That photo above was me actually trying to capture that guy's Cosby sweater in the background, but DB's expression is just so DB that I love it.
Daniel Boone lives in Raleigh, and I, you know, don't, so we met in Hillsborough, which is where we had our infamous first date under the Daniel Boone statue a year and a half ago.
And you know what? Dear Hillsborough, You might want to have A FEW RESTAURANTS OPEN on Monday night. Because the glamorous bar where we met, The Wooden Nickel, was effing PACKED.
"Hell is the Wooden Nickel in Hillsborough," I said. And you know? It might be.
When I drove home, I called Ned on his work trip to let him know I was returning from my dinner. Ned is exceedingly not insecure, so he didn't care who I was having dinner with. Still. I wanted to do a whole, check-in-to-let-you-know-I'm-driving-home-at-9-p.m.-and-not-fornicating-with-D-Boone thing. It was good to talk to Ned, who I may or may not be berserk about.
It just goes to show you. No matter how bad you feel about something, it always gets better eventually. Do you know what'd be really hilarious right now? Is if I said: This too shall pass.
Life's a beach.