Tonight was my friend's parents's annual cookie party. Because I was feeling shy and a bit anti-social, I somehow appointed myself chief dough roller and cookie cutter. And I was grateful for the opportunity. Having a job gives me an excuse not to have to wander around and make conversation. Instead, as people wander into the kitchen, they strike ( Read more... )

Today at the post office -- at the Beverly Hills post office, of course -- I opened my wallet and a moth crawled out of the change pocket.

I squashed it before anyone could see.

She pilfered candy and puked a rainbow. She stole a travel-size bar of soap and ate it, thinking it was candy, and puked sweet-smelling bubbles. She had that odd, tip-toeing, terrier way of walking that made it seem as though her legs were just a centimeter too short for her body. She had that round, black terrier nose, and that sly, knowing ( Read more... )

I got shoes for you.

You, know, my own personal Neverending Story. Except it's about me being stupid and injured, not magic, and there's no flying dog. (I don't care what Butch says. It looks nothing like a dragon, and everything like Clifford's big, white, fluffy flying cousin.)

Anyway, Wendy asked a question and I promptly dropped to the floor to figure out the ( Read more... )

I eat two kinds of lunches: those with no jalapeños and those with too many jalapeños. The salad bar I frequent has diced jalapeños. I love hot peppers, so I always add a spoonful to my salad. And then I add another. And half of another. And then I get back to my desk and I eat my salad and my mouth catches fire and I sit here panting while ( Read more... )

Everyone in Beverly Hills, anyway. It is totally, unquestionably, just another day at the courthouse. Walk in, and to the left are are three judges, in robes, and a cop, just shooting the breeze. To the right are two couples in shorts and t-shirts, filling out forms. There's also a middle aged man sitting on a bench, all by his lonesome, with a big ( Read more... )

I passed by the Beverly Hills Courthouse on the way to work. The line for marriage licenses was out the door, but, thus far, not unmanageably long. Because I am a sap, I got a little misty (well, truth be told, I'm still a little misty). People were chatting amiably, some dressed up, some dressed like it is just another day. And I guess it is. But ( Read more... )

I look like crap in
a crew-neck t-shirt, but I
want this one real bad.

Squirrels. Evidently, a crack team of alpha squirrels invaded the house this morning, waking Butch but not the lazy, lazy cats. Furious scrabbling on the roof, then across the ceiling and down the walls, then an indignant squeak, loud chatter, and more scrabbling as the team beat a hasty retreat. Butch looked out the window just in time to see the ( Read more... )