Randomness
A) Go visit www.missdoxie.com. Seriously. Mike is hooked on Mr. Bo.
B) Just wasting time until I go to my next gown fitting for Brent and Rose's wedding. Then I have to drive to the completely opposite side of D.C. to drop off my transcripts and pick up more. Which you'd think would be okay at 3:00 p.m., nobody out of work yet and all. No, apparently D.C. lets out at 2:00 p.m., and the entire population of the city spends the rest of the afternoon playing Road Rage on the Inner Loop. So that's going to suck. I'll have to grab some good CDs before I leave.
C) Another plug, REALLY, RIGHT NOW, go visit www.pandora.com. The Most Awesome Music Site Ever. So sayeth Casey.
D) Dad asked me to write a letter to his dying father, Dalton, whom I've met twice in my life. Once when I was 12 years old, and Dad decided that twelve years of speaking to his father was quite enough, so he and my brother and I showed up on his doorstep. He lived in a housing development in BFE, Texas. He was sitting in a broken recliner, typing a letter to his congressman on his dilapidated typewriter, and eating something he'd cooked in a tin foil thing on his hot plate. He cried when he opened the door. I'd never seen anything so damn sad in my entire life.
The second time was at my dad's wedding, and it was awkward. We avoided one another, mainly. He was comfortable with my brother and my dad, and he stuck to them like glue. I'm not even sure he knew who I was until I was standing at the alter as a bridesmaid.
Anyway, now he has congestive heart disease (or whatever the technical term is, fluid on the heart) and they've given him about six months to live. So Dad asked me to write him a letter. I can do it, no problem, but the fact that I'm going to be summarizing my life, essentially for a stranger about whom I feel primarily indifference...I don't know, it seems wrong. And it's maybe the second saddest thing I've ever experienced in my entire life.
E) Just to show you what irony really is, Bittersweet Symphony just came on.
B) Just wasting time until I go to my next gown fitting for Brent and Rose's wedding. Then I have to drive to the completely opposite side of D.C. to drop off my transcripts and pick up more. Which you'd think would be okay at 3:00 p.m., nobody out of work yet and all. No, apparently D.C. lets out at 2:00 p.m., and the entire population of the city spends the rest of the afternoon playing Road Rage on the Inner Loop. So that's going to suck. I'll have to grab some good CDs before I leave.
C) Another plug, REALLY, RIGHT NOW, go visit www.pandora.com. The Most Awesome Music Site Ever. So sayeth Casey.
D) Dad asked me to write a letter to his dying father, Dalton, whom I've met twice in my life. Once when I was 12 years old, and Dad decided that twelve years of speaking to his father was quite enough, so he and my brother and I showed up on his doorstep. He lived in a housing development in BFE, Texas. He was sitting in a broken recliner, typing a letter to his congressman on his dilapidated typewriter, and eating something he'd cooked in a tin foil thing on his hot plate. He cried when he opened the door. I'd never seen anything so damn sad in my entire life.
The second time was at my dad's wedding, and it was awkward. We avoided one another, mainly. He was comfortable with my brother and my dad, and he stuck to them like glue. I'm not even sure he knew who I was until I was standing at the alter as a bridesmaid.
Anyway, now he has congestive heart disease (or whatever the technical term is, fluid on the heart) and they've given him about six months to live. So Dad asked me to write him a letter. I can do it, no problem, but the fact that I'm going to be summarizing my life, essentially for a stranger about whom I feel primarily indifference...I don't know, it seems wrong. And it's maybe the second saddest thing I've ever experienced in my entire life.
E) Just to show you what irony really is, Bittersweet Symphony just came on.