Day One.

Sick. Woke up sick. Marvelous timing, this. I've been grouchy and miserable all day. Man, do I not do sick well. My thinking gets garbled, I'm a giant, whiny baby. So not a good day to start this. But I did sleep most of it off and feeling nearly back to normal ( Read more... )

Getting ready for work (boo) and simply no time to do this justice.

But I had to get out a bit because it brought a little tiny tear of joy to my bitter heart.

Dr. William Petit (the doctor who lost his family to a truly horrific home invasion) has welcomed a new baby with his new wife.


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Tomorrow is always fresh, with no mistakes in it.


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42 years old today.

Old, ancient, past-prime.
Worthless, sad sack, me.

( Or not at all. )

So in the afternoons, I put on sunglasses at my desk. The glare from the sun gives me a huge massive unhappy headache and the Arizona sun is brutal anyway. It has to be done ( Read more... )

A little bit of magic for you ( today... )

I walked into Walgreens feeling equal parts defeated and bitchy.
Another long, confusing day at work, I was anxious to get home and cocoon.

There were two clerks open.
A pimply, indifferent teen that refuses to make eye contact. I had got in her lane before and, no matter how happy, how chipper, how aggressively happy I was with her, she remained ( Read more... )

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Last night = Big Middle-aged Fun

Emphasis on the middle age. I went to a Michael Bolton concert, okay?

A pictorial of my evening:

My adorable friend, Nats:

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They are dogs.

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