I just figured out that if I positively rush through the various animal care steps in the morning I can be at my laptop blogging 18 minutes later. That’s only if I rush rush rush fly by night away from here and refuse to enjoy the moment. Moment schmoment. Sunrise schmunrise. The first person to ever s-c-h words to be funny must be rich and resting on his laurels right now. His schlaurels.
I once heard that the person who invented making a little indentation in your ice is resting on his laurels and rich now. Can you imagine? One small invention and woot, there it is. Riches. I really shoulda tried to take off with my Lean Cuisine vending machine idea back in the day. Back when women were all low-fat this and sodium schmodium that and schlepping Lean Cuisines to work. It was gonna heat up, see, and not just plop your icy Lean Cusine at you.
Hey, so what’s new? I mean, other than our president having coronavirus and all. It’s rather hard to seem interesting when the world is exploding all around us. I’m over here all, “I binged 14 episodes of Gilmore Girls this weekend! Yes, again!”
I went back to that trail and took another picture, but as you can see, we are not at the “exploding with color” phase yet. Leaves really are changing here, though. On the way to that trail, I pass my old neighborhood and I sort of forgot that as you come to my road, there is a canopy of trees that is so pretty this time of year. All yellow and orange and red all over and so on. In the spring that same canopy of trees is all blossoms all the time.
When did I get old and start noticing tree canopies?
Also too this weekend, in my hard-hitting weekend of crowds and parties, I decided on what colors Faithful Reader Kris will be using for my new afghan.
When did I get old and start getting excited about yarn colors?
In case you weren’t here last week, because you were off living your hard-hitting life of crowds and parties (this all felt a lot better when everyone was home, and not just the few paranoid), Faithful Reader Kris is making me another afghan. She made me one when I lived at my old house. You know, the one with a canopy of trees? My house, fmr.? Anyway, the afghan had blues and pinks and it perfectly matched my old living room. Now she’s making me one to match the living room, crnt. If you wanna call this living.
She sent me a page of yarn bits, and this is the first time I’ve ever gotten a page of yarn bits.
And this is the living room I’m tryina match. Ultimately, I selected Dusty Lilac, Rosé and Lincoln. Then she wrote me back and said, “We should maybe also add bluhhh and blee dee leee leee” and I said sure. Further reports as developments warrant.
I also took Blackie Spooky Midnight to the vet, for his booster shots, because apparently he’s in the Booster Club or something. Yes he IS getting rather big. I’ve had him for more than a month now. They grow when they’re kittens, you know.
His shot wore him out, but then the next day he was back to embracing life.
In the past few years, I’ve had two other man kittens: Steely Dan and Milhous. Both of them were aggressively kitten-ish, meaning they spent the whole first year of their lives just looking for ways to be awful. Forest is less so. He’s really just a sweet cat. He’s playful but not OH MY GOD CALM DOWN playful.
Again. What would make you say, “Ima dump this kitten”? WHAT?
Randolph Mantooth is an excellent cat name.
Anyway, that about sums up the wknd. Do you like how I’m so pressed for time that I have to abbreviate the word? I have that long commute ahead of m–oh, look I’m here!
Back when I lived in LA I’d have DIED for this lack of commute. There was nothing that obsessed me more than my long, awful commute every day. It was 16 miles each way and that took an hour. I tried every back road you could think of to get to work and it didn’t matter because every other yahoo in LA was tryina do the same thing. It was terrible.
From my window at work, I could see the freeway and I’d watch it get slower and slower as it got close to 5:00. And at the time, at that job, if there was no work for me, I could just go. But there was this
who sat in the front office whose job it was to give me work, if it came in. She’s the one who said I was selfish for not having kids. She had seven, two of whom she had to keep the man who left her, so we see how that turned out.
Anyway, she’d be at that front desk doing her makeup and gossiping with the others out there and I could SEE the trays of work that I had to proofread. “Hey, why don’t I take these now and give them back to you?” I’d ask, while I sat there WAITING FOR WORK.
“Oh, no. I have to check these in first,” she’d say, turning from them and ignoring them again.
I was not a fan of her.
She and the whole front desk area got in trouble for discussing the “funky spunk” episode of Sex and the City at the tops of their lungs. Believe it or not the person to turn them in was a young guy.
She was also the person who used to leave message for clients saying, “I’m just calling to alarm you of your appointment next week at 10.” I finally could not stand it a moment longer and had to go out there and tell her the difference between “alert” and “alarm.” They all acted like I was some sort of nerd egghead for having basic knowledge like this.
I lasted at that job two and a half years. How?
Anyway I’d better go. I have to commute to work, as my start time is in two minutes. I’d better get in the c–oh, look, here I am.
I need to get over that.