return policy

What I dd this weekend was 1- family time and more importanlty (because it's always more important) 2- shop. I shopped like I haven't shopped in months because, well- I haven't. I've been extrememly good on the budget front- well good enough.

Why is it that women so easily succumb to the shopping bug? I wanted (and did a few times) to buy frivolous things this weekend and the only thing I really needed, that I even went shopping for was a battery charger for my camera. I used to be queen of buying things that I really didn't need. There was a fime when money was no object, when I didn't have real life bills to pay and so my paychecks went straight to shopping and not the ever wiselier savings account. I wish I could rewrite those few years, rewind the tape to shake myself, slap the goods out of my hand and open that IRA months (!) earlier than I did. But, I didn't. We live, we learn. But, there is still something in the power of shopping. I believe that retail therapy fufills some primal urge that goes deeper than just trying to fill the void in your life. There is something self sustaining and empowering in the knowledge that as a grown-up, if you want it, you really can have it. And i did and now I have a pile of returns because in reality- I can still get buy, breathe in an out with that extra pair of pajamas, bicycle shorts and reading glasses.

things stuck in my head

"It takes a big man to admit his mistakes and I amthatbigman." - Michael Scott.

So thank you, thank you to the writiers of The Office. Thank you a lot.

smoke in my eyes

I smell like smoke. After breakfast I smell like smoke. I hate that lingering odor after a meal out, but the lingering is usually after a night where smoke is inevitable and then I don't mind so much, but breakfast? BREAKFAST?

The food was fabulous, all greasy and runny eggs. Oh, I love breakfast food. My parents are in town and breakfast at a greasy spoon is something we do every once in a while. That once in a while was this morning at a new place that boasts the best red eye gravy. We didn't try the red eye or the brains and eggs or the salt herring and corn flakes or the fat back. Southern cooking can be odd at times, but when you smother a biscuit with sausage gravy, southern cooking is at its best and it is all wonderful.

wouldn't it seem

It would seem to simply follow that after the before post that I would begin posting again and yet...

I did have a post in me today, a post that rattled around and walked with me through the streets and someday it might come out, but not today. I'm working back to you. I'm always working my way back to you. And I'll be there- if not shortly then soon, very soon.

An old teacher I met again this past week said when writing that it's "more important to do less well than a lot, not well." I'm prescribing to her opinion by not doing any because well, let's face it- nothing here is done well.

She was an old high school teacher whom knows more than I ever knew. When I see her now I want to go back to myself in high school and shake that girl and scream, "Wake up. Take in every minute of knowledge she dishes out. Listen to her!!!" She captured me, this old teacher- now retired, but probably not enough. I was not the best in high school. I was a class skipper, a minimal effort-maximum gain kind of gal. I wish I hadn't been. I wish I had understood what was before me when it was. Can't we all use that line?

So, I'm working, working on writing less well, or a lot, or, whatever, something will come out of me one day.

to blog

"To bloooooggg."  I imagine Billy Crystal dressed as a midevil medicine man from The Princess Bride telling me that "To blooogg means to actually write on your space in the internet on a regular basis and to do so using quips, observations and stories from your life." 
 
"True," I'd remark, "but I've lost the will to blog and so I need something-  some magical pill that could bring it all back."
 
The medicine man and his wife would get to mixing and messing and come out with a huge chocolate covered pill that would have to be forced down my throat.  I'd take it and respectifully return to my bit of the Internet and go about with my blathering dribble. It seems I've even missed my own blogoversary.
 
Oh, hello world.  I've missed thee.

morning brownies

What does it say about me when there are times that I am the happiest when things are baking in the oven, a movie is on and knitting is in hand? And I do mean I am happy and it’s not even a settling happiness. This is what I want. These are the moments I really enjoy, long for even. Was I born this old?

Where does this need to be so calm, so chill, so utterly un-wild come from? Scared? Possibly. Terrified? Definitely. Didn’t I just say it wasn’t a settling? And I don’t lie. I had the thought tonight that I should just throw caution to the wind and leap, just float, just fall. But, then I came out of my dream world.

The nest thought had something to do with adding espresso to brownies for the mornings that you don’t have time to make coffee. Ingenious? I know, right. But, not wild- in fact, so domesticated. And that’s me. In a nutshell I’m a little homemaker- for one. And I’m OK with that.



And it’s not difficult at all to fall for Jude Law.

my tivo is at one with my mind

In a concession I'm rather embarassed to admit- I have two TiVos. Why? It just happened. And really, with some extra high frequency/ radio wave gadgetry I really could easily just use one like in the old days, like last year.

But, two I have and the older, less shiny one remains in my bedroom where night time TV is my nightlight. My TiVo in the bedroom, however, still thinks the world is moving at a different hour. It's currently 11:45 and my TiVo thinks it's 10:46 yet it's still showing my beloved David Letterman. The TiVo people say it's just a "consmetic" change and will go away after April 1. APRIL 1!! What? I have to pretend that I live in eastern TX when I watch TV in my room for 3 weeks. Whatever. OK. Who are these TiVo people anyway? I wish I worked at TiVo.

Sometimes I think about living in another time zone. I wonder how different life is not because of the physical movement and environment, but solely because of time change. Time zoned kind of fascinate me, like how there is some state in the middle of the country (IA, OH???) that doesn't participate in the whole daylight savings time. Talk about my TiVo being confused! I don't think it could handle it.

So my TiVo wishes for the hour back and I'm not going to lie that so do I. More light in the evenings- who cares. Losing an hour of sleep and having to deal with the adjustment for a week or more- annoying. Thanks congress. I love you too.

it's like the universe is against me

Well, maybe not so much, but still I like to ebb in the direction of the dramatic at times. I have a cold. Well, maybe not, but it's the hint of cold- that back in the throat thing that makes you cough and your throat a little scratchy. I hate a cold.

Spring has sprung this weekend and right now a window is open. I love opened windows. I do so much miss the snow we didn't get this year. Winter failed me, but Spring has possibilities in it that I think I will embrace. I'm looking for the daffodils waiting to push their yellow heads through the dirt.

the blogging blahs

I've been negligent. I've been remiss. I've been quite quiet.

One thing I hate that bloggers do is talk about how long it's been since they last posted. It's a blogging-peeve of mine and yet...

Sometimes I think I've lost the blogging spirit, the will to spread the news of my life across the Internets. Well, Mr. Internet, I still don't got a lot to tell ya. I've been quiet on the web. I've been quiet in my life. I'm not even reading very much. There must be a correlation between how much I read, or don't, and how much I write, or don't. I have been knitting quite a lot and worrying about how I'm going to pay for summer vacations and spring break to NYC to visit TryBecca and well, I've come the realization that the $100 I spent on the cotton yarn to make a spring sweater will not actually be suitable barter for a plane ticket to the Big Apple. Whoops. But, I'ma goin'. Yes sirree, I'ma goin'.