Good morning, world!
Yesterday, I went shopping with my mother and older sister, including a pumpkin cake producing raid on the local Whole Foods, read the new Kelley Armstrong novel from cover to cover (Personal Demon), watched the finale of Torchwood, hung out with Chris, ate tasty tasty Indian food, drank a lot of amaretto, watched the new episode of Doctor Who, and envisioned the incredible glory of the Kahlua Frosty.
Yeah, yesterday really, really failed to suck in any meaningful sense of the word.
Now I'm up, I'm sort of shambling into a state of full awareness of my surroundings, and getting ready to head into San Francisco to spend several hours waiting in line with Jeanne to see the Counting Crows. Because we are big dorks, that's why. Also because the Crows have yet to announce their West Coast tour dates, and that means we're pretty much going to take what we can get, at this point.
My dreams were once again quite rambling, but included discovering that the man who wrote my beloved Horror Films of the 1980s also wrote a whole shelf of other books just waiting for me to discover and devour them. I think I may be in a state of 'need something to read' again. As I've said before, reading as fast as I do is a gift and a curse; I can go through a paperback, fully retaining what I've just read, in a day. Sometimes less, if it's a short book. And that means that I am constantly running out of reading material. Which is why I've read everything Stephen King has ever written at least eight times (except for Cell and Faithful). Predictable girl rides again.
I'm going to walk to the BART, because that will make me feel better about life, the universe, and pretty much everything. That's what walking to the BART is for. And then there will be Jeanne and goodness. I have my phone -- call if you need me.
Yeah, yesterday really, really failed to suck in any meaningful sense of the word.
Now I'm up, I'm sort of shambling into a state of full awareness of my surroundings, and getting ready to head into San Francisco to spend several hours waiting in line with Jeanne to see the Counting Crows. Because we are big dorks, that's why. Also because the Crows have yet to announce their West Coast tour dates, and that means we're pretty much going to take what we can get, at this point.
My dreams were once again quite rambling, but included discovering that the man who wrote my beloved Horror Films of the 1980s also wrote a whole shelf of other books just waiting for me to discover and devour them. I think I may be in a state of 'need something to read' again. As I've said before, reading as fast as I do is a gift and a curse; I can go through a paperback, fully retaining what I've just read, in a day. Sometimes less, if it's a short book. And that means that I am constantly running out of reading material. Which is why I've read everything Stephen King has ever written at least eight times (except for Cell and Faithful). Predictable girl rides again.
I'm going to walk to the BART, because that will make me feel better about life, the universe, and pretty much everything. That's what walking to the BART is for. And then there will be Jeanne and goodness. I have my phone -- call if you need me.