No posting until the New Year

I've had an incredible holiday season, which I'll write about.

I've found a bit of peace just recently and I think this is something that will stick.

I will come back in the New Year with pictures and the like, but just now I am reveling in the gifts, both material and spiritual.  

And I want some time and space to reflect on them.

Love you guys, check back in a few days.

Happy New Year!

Happy Holidays!

We leave at the crack of dawn for Sacramento and my in-laws for the holidays.
BUT WAIT!

Before you gasp with mock horror at my plight - I LOVE my in-laws.
I'm looking forward to the trip!

And with that cheery news, I leave you the disgruntled residents of our house, who will hold the fort down and shed all over everything these next few days:


And, turn your head, because I'm tired and can't figure out how to straighten it:

A Hundred Different Ways to Say Cold

So, Arctic.

This is what I do. I feel something. Something I can't bitch about, effectively anyway, something I can't ask for help with, something that I'm struggling with.

So I attribute it to something I CAN describe. And then I write it down.

So typically this would be a poem. And it might yet be.
This is me, trying to figure it out. If I can quantify it, I can deal with it.
If I can wrestle it to the ground and name it, then I can overcome it.

I feel like I'm in a snow wasteland.

I'm bundled in snow clothes. I'm slowed down, I move stiffly, and with none of the grace of myself. Everything hurts. The sun on the white expanse burns my eyes. They sting and tear, anyway, because everything is frigid.

A movement is clumsy and doesn't go the way I thought when I moved.
Remember when you were out in the snow, all bundled up, and you were running after someone else, and they moved faster and you just slogged behind?

And you were breathless with the exertion, all muscles screaming and yet chilled, stinging with the exposure?

Trying to catch up.
Everything I say sounds ridiculous. I'm several yards behind and I can't remember where my home is. I can't see my home anymore. I don't know if I'll ever find it again.

There are a hundred ways to say Help. There are a thousand to say I'm sorry.

I can't find the words, I don't know who to say it to and I can't catch up.
Everyone is so far away that I'm not even on the horizon.

And I know this, but the faster I move the more I stand still.
Like when you were a kid, the sledding down the snowy hill was exhilarating, but getting back up was agony, and you wondered why you were outside at all?

And I'm freezing, here.
I don't know what to do.

For the first time in a long time, I don't know what to do.

I am no ski bunny.
I'm a lumbering, growling Yeti and I just want my warm hole with no one around to remind me that I'm a figment of their imagination.

Hey, I'm Fashionable!

I have a tendency to get sucked into really awful reality TV.
One of my current guilts is this absolutely inane show called The Real Housewives of Orange County. This is a reality show that follows very wealthy vapid women in the day to day of their exorbitant lives.

They are Botoxed, Breast-Augmented and tucked into horrifying Barbie dolls.
Frightening, because no matter the expense, you can't rewind time.

So they are falling plastic faces, and huge boobs in tight shirts that look lewd and incongruous. And they are stupidest women! Not sure that they're actually very stupid, but everything that is important to them is so trivial!

There was a whole episode on whether one of them should get false eyelashes. Like eyelash extensions. Unbelievable.

Anyway, they are showing promos for a new horrifying reality show, which is called Millionaire Match-Up or some such crap. There is a very earnest, very wealthy (with requisite botox and silicone) trying to match up horrifyingly stupid rich men with equally atrocious fake and stupid women.

The whole thing, the whole post, is to say that in one scene the matchmaker is wearing a shirt that I have. Unquestionably it is the same shirt.

And that pleases me somewhat. That I have the same shirt as a millionaire matchmaker in Los Angeles.

But what pleases me even more is that I bought the shirt at Nordstrom Rack for $16.00 a year ago.

:)

I'm working on a post, I've been having some hard times for the last few months, and I'm trying to work the whole thing into an image, because that is how I quantify and articulate something is really bothering me.

I can't put this on a boat (as I usually do) I can't put this onto a guy (which is another favorite).

This time it is arctic.

I'll write more later.

Alive Alive O

Yes, dear readers, I survived the plague that befell me.
It took a couple days, and on the first day my cold was a niggling, "uh oh," when I woke up that morning to a noseful of yellow snot.

On the second day of head cold my virus gave to me, deep throaty chest pains, and a noseful of yelll llo snot!

Just kidding. I'll get serious here.

The second day of my cold I parked myself on the couch and watched everything that the TV had to offer. Wasn't much, but thank God for DVRs.

The third day I rushed into work and completed something that needed completing, and then came home and promptly passed out clothed on the couch, under a warm blanket and two very warm cats, sleeping on my back (hated position) with my mouth open.

Which meant that every few hours I'd wake up and clack my desert mouth shut.
A mouth without saliva is no fun at all. Similar to a town without pity. Oh, what that can doooooo. Sorry, can't stay on track, because I'm ALL BETTER NOW and that feels just SUPER!

The fourth day I woke up and thought, "no way in hell."
I went back to bed and slept through the entire work day.

I'm better now, went to work this morning and by 3pm felt like myself, which was, bitchy, irritated and going 90 miles per second, even at rest.

Welcome back Salome, the world missed you. How it spun on its axis, we'll never know.

Sick

And, lo, the plague has struck.
After several months of dodging all sick bullets, I am felled by a powerful head cold.
I dropped something today and bent down to pick it up. In seconds, my head filled with such snot and pressure that I'm surprised it didn't pop.

I have what is the stadium wave equivalent of a headache, random and fleeting, and circling around my head. I no sooner blow my nose than my immune system replenishes it.

I just now spread lip balm all over my upper lip, which is raw and cracking, and for good measure, smeared a large quantity under and around my nostrils, which have been ravaged by Kleenex.

I am, in short, miserable.

Update on the Awesome Spontaneous, Exactly the Right Thing To Do Purchase

He's taking it back.
Our close friend owns a computer shop north of us and has promised to build the Pope a supercomputer for the same price.

We trust him implicitly, he has never steered us wrong, so we're taking the Pope's new machine with Vista back in favor of a custom-built PC with XP.

Anyone (and I mean Jonathon here) have any experience or advice about Vista?

I have to bake 90 cookies tonight.

I will need more wine.

Yes It Is

We were at Costco tonight, picking up a birthday cake, present, and the Pope wandered into the computer section.

The Pope is thrifty to the point of near-miserliness.
He has about 10 shirts, 6 pairs of pants, 3 jackets and 2 pairs of shoes.
He typically drives cars that I can run faster than, and much more quietly to boot.

He doesn't buy stuff.

He's had the same computer for the last five years, and ever since I've known him the thing has taken a week to open the Internet Browser, and 13 years to close a file.

It was, as they say, time.

He found one he loved, there was a $150 rebate on it, and after checking the bank balance, we had the money easily and both of us had just received additional large checks to deposit.

I said, "Buy it."
"Maybe," he said.
"Buy it!!" I insisted.

All of a sudden he turned 13 and his eyes lit up with glee.
He asked serious questions of the Costco employee, but the corners of his mouth kept tugging up in the telltale grin that marks an elated Pope.

He put it in the cart and as we walked to the cash register I said,
"This is why you work so hard at a job you hate. This is why EVERYONE works so hard at jobs they hate."

"No," he said, "I work hard like that for us."
"No," I said.

"You work that hard so that you can buy something you want, let alone legitimately need."

Call me crazy, but we live a comfortable life. We've got money for things we need, and mostly we have the money for anything we want. We're not extravagant, we don't have to have the newest, latest gadgets, and once in a while it is prudent, and sane, to buy the first thing you see because you just want to.

TAGGED

The Rules

Link to the person that tagged you, and post the rules on your blog.
Share 7 facts about yourself.
Tag 7 random people at the end of your post, and include links to their blogs.
Let each person know that they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

1. I am addicted to sparkling water. I drink almost 2 liters of it daily.
2. I can't drive in snow. Or even ride in the car in snow. I freak out, frightened.
3. I sucked my thumb until I was 15.
4. My grandmother died in my arms when I was 24.
5. My dad told me once I have the highest IQ in our family.
6. I used to perform spoken word around Santa Cruz, CA and had a couple people record me.
7. I am allergic to dried apricots. They cause an asthma attack. But not fresh, canned or jellied apricots. Those are fine.

I'm tagging three blogs and then requesting that these people comment with their randoms:
CLP, SKROLL, LAKSHMI and JULIE.

Platypus King
Clan Buchanan
Xela

p.s. SEND ALL MEME TASKS MY WAY. I LOVE THEM.

When the World Is Wet It Smells Like Worms

Did you miss me?
So funny that the month of November tinked by like tiny grains of sand against glass, and then here I am three days into December like I blinked my left eye!

To Recap:

December 1.
The Pope is home from his business trip and Yay!
It snows in Seattle, lovely big flakes that charm and enchant us.
We go to breakfast, braving the snowy roads. We see many accidents but are safe, because the Pope is carefully and thoughtfully driving.

**Note. The reason I hate the Pope's driving is because he is careful and thoughtful. And that does not fit well with my driving skills, honed from my "Bat Out of Hell" manual.**

....aaaand SCENE!

Welcome to the end of NaBloPoMo.

I was driving home today, and was fixated on getting to Trader Joes and buying a eucalyptus wreath. I thought it would be a modern update to the season, and I love the way it smells.

I didn't end up buying it, because it was dried, like you'd find in a flower store, and the berries were glued on it, with sloppy glue-gun work and all.

There were regular wreaths there, too, but I despise regular wreaths.
And the reason is this:

My freshman year in college, I went home for the winter break (from California to Ohio). I was expected to get a winter job, and did. I worked at a wreath-making operation, I don't remember where. We stood outside in these huge plastic warehouse tents, and although it warmed up, it was never really warm. Ohio is bitterly cold in the winter. We could not wear gloves, because it impeded our dexterity. The base of the wreaths is a double layer of green wire, stretched into a circle. You take the evergreen branches, which were pre-cut, mostly, but still needed to be de-twigged into the proper "lie" on the metal frame. You would place an evergreen strand on the metal wire, and take thin green wire from these giant spools to secure it. You would do probably 30 times per wreath, and we made about 30 wreaths a day. It was agony. By the end of the day your hands were cracked, tacky with pine and bleeding. The smell of pine is very antiseptic after a while, and the whole thing is pretty miserable. I worked there for a week, and then quit in search of more comfortable pastures. One thing that was illuminating for me was that I actually worked with a girl that I had gone to junior high with. She'd married badly, right out of high school and they had a daughter. Every day her husband would shuffle up their cute kid and pick Angie up. What was illuminating to me was that I was home for about a month on my Christmas break, and this was Angie's life. Not making wreaths, of course, but small-time seasonal jobs to make ends meet. And this was a story for me, something to blog when it crossed my mind, 11 years later.

I moved from the wreath place to Ken's Nursery & Crafts. (help me out here, CLP, am I right on the name?) It was still (of course) Christmas time, but this time I was sent to help the plant arrangement people. Now, in Ken's Flower Shop, there was a clear ranking of placement in the store. You had different departments. There was sales, and they had their manager, floral arranging, with their own, dominatrix bitch of a manager, and the plant section, the lowest on the totem pole. The manager of the plant section was a guy named Gary, who was in his early 50's and lived alone, except for his African Grey Parrot. He adored the parrot, and had suffered from colon cancer, and had had many surgeries. We connected instantly, oddly enough, this young girl in college with a pierced nose and Gary, who'd been at Ken's for 10 years. I had a blast in this department. We were a motley crew of losers, and we'd laugh and talk and turn out planter arrangements up a storm. The poinsettias came in and I was given the task of making poinsettia arrangements in the store. While I loved making the displays, and got creative and stacked and tiered and made glorious huge displays, I began to despise poinsettias. They are fragile, fragile plants, and a careless twitch of your hand can decimate an entire stalk. They also need to be watered - nearly daily. They were a complete pain in my ass, which is probably why the new girl got out of the work area and into the shop.

To this day I think of Gary when I see a poinsettia. We wrote letters for almost a year after I went back to school. He was my friend. He was a good guy and I think we both brought some warmth and cheer that season, to each other.

But I still hate poinsettias. I would never have them in any house of mine.
(plus they are poisonous to cats!)

Why Not?

Tell Us About Yourself

Name: [redacted for secrecy] Call me Salome.
Birthday: 8/23/74
How old do you act: Not sure, I feel like I'm 25 and I feel like I'm a hundred.
Zodiac Sign: Leo/Virgo cusp
Current location: Seattle, WA
Eye Color: Blue
Hair Color and Length: God who knows anymore. Fading red w/blonde streaks and a good inch of gray at the roots.
Height: 5' 8.5"
Your Heritage: Irish/German/English/American
What’s Your Middle Name: Marie [not redacted for secrecy, that's the real one]
Shoes You Wore Today: Black Suede Boots. I almost always wear boots.
Your Weakness: Pride, Impatience, Insecurity about my intelligence
Your Fear: Spiders
Have You Ever Ridden A Mechanical Bull: No
Do You Want To: TOTALLY!
Goal You Would Like To Achieve This Year: Find some peace.
First Thought When You Wake Up: WHAT? You'vegottabekiddingme!
Best Physical Feature: Eyes
Best Character Feature: I Care.
Who Is Your Bestest Friend: You know who you are. (all of you)
When Is Your Bedtime: around midnight
Your Most Cherished Memory: Finny.
Pepsi or Coke: Neither: Sparkling Water is the only carbonated drink I will consume.
McDonalds or Burger King: Burger King - McDonalds with those damn tiny onions!
Single or Group Dates: Married, so go ask someone else.
What Is The Last Song You Sang: [redacted because it will be a secret song on my Salome2007Xmas CD]
Does Playing A Guitar Make A Girl/Guy More Attractive: TOTALLY
What Is Your Biggest Pet Peeves: Stupid people, cracking gum, whistling, or anyone not respecting my right to silence.
Do You Drink: See Heritage, above. What do you think?
Ever Been Drunk: ohmygod. (wipes tears of laughter from her eyes) That would be a big yes.
Do You Smoke: Yes. But I'm trying to quit.
Do You “Smoke”: Ha Ha. Used to, but it was a long time ago and I've not ever been crazy about it.
Do You Sing: I do, but it is not something most people would be able to listen to without bleeding.
What Color Underwear Do You Have On: Black
Do You Want To Go To College: I have a BA in Modern Lit, with Honors. I desperately want an MFA in Creative Writing or Theatre. Someday, when I've made enough money, I will go back, and get it just for me. Just for me.
Have You Ever Been In Love: Yes.
Do You Want To Get Married: I am married for the second time and think this is the last one for me.
Do You Believe In Yourself: Yes. In some ways so strongly. No. In other ways that I wish I could.
Do You Believe In Others: Yes, mostly. I have a few, close dear friends that I believe in. I believe in my family, too.
Do You Like Thunderstorms: Love them.
Do You Play an Instrument: I can tinker with Piano, but only snippets of the most basic learner songs.
What Do You Want To Be When You Grow Up: I want to be at peace with myself.
What Country Would You Like To Visit: Africa
How Many CD’s Do you Own: Tons. But I'm all over iTunes now.
How Many DvD’s Do You Own: I think about 3.
How Many Tattoo’s Do You Have: None.
How Many Piercings Do You Have: 5 active. Total previous piercings are: 9 on various areas.
How Many Things In You Past Do You Regret: Too many to even begin to think of.

Favorite Shoes: Boots. Not any that I have now, but I have had some in the past that I loved. 20-eye docs, those brown ones from Value City that I wore until they fell off of me. I do really like the leopard print heels that I wore to my wedding.
Favorite Radio Station: NPR
Favorite Drink: For which occasion? Sparkling water for majority. Alcohol for other majority. Coffee every day. Lattes.
Favorite Car: Honda CRV (so far, I've not had many cars)
Favorite Place: Too vague. I love my parent's house. Sitting there with them, drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes.
Favorite Song: Unchained Melody - The Righteous Brothers. I saw them once, in Vegas. They were incredible.
Favorite Movie: Memento, Godfather I and II.
Favorite Moment: Taking a bow onstage for Laundry and Bourbon, when they were cheering and screaming my name.
Favorite Color: Purple
Favorite Meal: Chicken DoPiaza (can't spell it, and haven't been able to get it anywhere except England)

In a Guy/Girl or Man/Woman I Like
Favorite Eye Color: Brown
Favorite Hair Color: Black
Short Hair or Long Hair: Medium to Long
Height: Very tall, taller than me.
Body Type: Lean-ish, muscular, but not hardbody. I'm not precious about body fat. (Glass house and all). I'd like to see muscles, but I'm content with some belly.
Does Ethnicity Matter: No.
Piercings: Sure.
Tattoos: Sure.

“Bed Side Manner”
Do You Think You Are Attractive: Sometimes. But not physically. More mentally.
Are You Attracted To Someone Who Does Not Know It: No. My husband is well aware that I find him very attractive.
Would You Like To Be Someone’s Fantasy: Not really, I'm not available for fantasies, so that is more cruel than exciting.
Hunter or Hunted: Both, either, the hunt is what is exciting!
Do You Kiss With Your Eyes Open or Closed: Closed, mostly.
Ever Kissed Someone Of The Same Sex: Yes, a couple of times. Not for me.
A Little or A Lot Of Tongue: In between, but use it like you know what you are doing!
Older or Younger: Older
Top or Bottom: Both.
Lights On, Lights Off or Candle Light: Preferred is Candle light or pitch blackness.
Do You Like To Cuddle After: Yes, sometimes.
Do you Like To Cuddle In General: Not particularly. I'm not the cuddling type.
Trimmed, Shaved or Let IT Go Wild: Trimmed/Shaved.
Him / Her First or Second: Her first. Always HER FIRST.
Have You Ever Had Bad Sex: Ohmygod, who HASN'T?
Have You Ever Had Sex With Someone And Regretted It: Oh please. (wipes tears of laughter) Definitely. Welcome to my 20s.
Ever Have A 3Some, 4Some or More-Some: Yes. It was in turns awkward and hilarious. Not hot at all.
Does Sex = Love To You: Wow. It used to, when I was very young. But then I got older, and learned that it doesn't. But then I married the Pope, and re-learned that it does. And it is so much much much different and special when it DOES = love.

Right NowRight Now, Who Are You Thinking Of: The Pope, my husband.
Right Now, What Are You Listening To: The first draft of my Salome2007Xmas Mix. (god I sound like an ad)
Right Now, Do You Love Some One: Yes
Right Now, Does Someone Love You: Yes
Right Now, Do You Know Where Your Mechanical Bull Is: :) Some dive bar in Texas.
Right Now, Is It Raining: No, thankfully, because it is so cold it would snow.
Right Now, How Many MySpace Friends Do You Have: None. I despise the Myspaces and Facebooks, won't join them.
Right Now, Are You Happy: Yeah.

Blogging After Work - Day 2

Ladies and Gentlemen, here you have day two of me rushing home and blogging before anything else. BEFORE WINE, even.

I worked late tonight, so there was no traffic (except the exit lane of death that is a mere seconds into my commute, which by the way:

Hey, Asshole, in the Starlite Tours Van:

I AM going to get in, sir, whether you kindly let me or not. I can see that there is abominable traffic, and you are irritated (nice touch with the visible sigh and the head shaking), but I HAVE to get over, because I'm not going to the Key Arena tonight, or any other place downtown. I will remind you about the EVERY OTHER CAR yielding on the freeway rule. And if it isn't a rule, so what? It is just WHAT YOU DO. So, either you are going to let me in, or I will force my SUV ass right onto your bumper to prove a point. Because whichever insurance ends up being liable for this, you will lose your job. You think I don't know how that works?

I Know Some Things,
Salome)

Anyhoo, no traffic. So as I'm flying along the dark freeway, I wonder what CD is in Disc 2 of the radio. I think it is [a particular singer who shall remain a secret], but I'm not sure, and she's a finalist for the Salome mix, under eclectic (but so extraordinary) Salome songs that I'm sure everyone else will hate, but I am determined to include as she sings with the voice my heart would have if it could talk. So, I push Disc 2 on the radio, to switch over, but that takes SECONDS, which is far too long, so I look up at the CD holder strapped to the visor. and I go crosseyed trying to read the titles of the CDs in there. In the dark. While going 60 on the Freeway. You are starting to see why my husband is scared when I drive. I realized my idiocy in nanoseconds and brought my eyes back to the road, chuckling a bit.

It is a wonder I am still alive.

Update on Today's Post:

1. Under bed thingy does not fit under bed. Shit.
2. I bought a brand new bedspread in EXACTLY the same color scheme as the old one. Sigh. Pillows all match, but the fresh look is not there.
3. Why, when you wash a duvet cover, does it cease to fit the #$%*!@#$$ down comforter! Shit.
4. Lakshmi, we will bake the cookies together, with many martinis, and it will be joyous.
5. Heidi Klum is way too pretty. I think she's a robot.

Journal/Thoughts/Letters

I didn't work out today.
I know what you're thinking, and it isn't that.
(laziness you are thinking she is very lazy which is why she is so fat)
But that is not it!

I had things to do.
Seattle, however, decided to throw a curveball and rain whilst very very dark.
An aside, a rant: WHY IS IT SO FUCKING HARD TO SEE THE GODDAMN ROAD?
Am I getting old or what? I'm squinting and swearing, and jerking heavily to the right when I find I'm so totally not in my own lane. Sucky eyesight.

I heard once that entire cities/states were going from a bright white streetlight to an orangey/amber light so that the glare of the lights did not interfere with astronomers trying to see outer space. Which, cool. But the next time I get sideswiped because you need infrared goggles to turn into Target, I'm fucking suing Uranus.

Get it? BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA. I crack myself up.

I stopped by the library, because I reread a book I've read 13 times last night when I couldn't sleep, I got a book they held for me (Bury Me Standing - about Romany people called Gypsys. I never knew Gypsy was a derogatory term, but apparently it is) Did I ever tell you how I had my wallet lifted by a Gypsy in Prague? My exboyfriend wrote a song about it. I'll tell you sometime.

But not now, because after the library I needed to go to BigLots. My husband has blogged about BigLots before, but I absolutely love the place. Really cheap junk. And that is all I need to say. How can you not love it?

I needed a $10 gift for a cookie exchange (Lakshmi I got mine!) and an under-bed container for my summer clothes. I also needed four small cans of peaches, some chocolate orange treats, and something to carry the 90 cookies I need to bake for the party. I cruised around BigLots until,

Dear Lady with the Screaming and Inappropriately Roaming Toddler:
Jesus Christ, Lady. Will you keep an eye on the diminutive god of discord over there? If he screams because he can't see you one more time, I'm going to the duct tape aisle and I will attach him to your leg. I was musing over chocolaty orange things and your demon came screeching to a halt near the cookies and threw them, bag after bag, onto the floor. THAT is why everything you buy at BigLots crumbles out of the package when you get it home. It is people like YOU. Listen, the ladies at the front have 30 people in each of their checkout lines, and they're ringing up things without pricing, and they sure as hell can't find the originals in this pigsty called a bargain store, so THEY CANNOT BABYSIT! That is NOT the point of a BigLots, my dear. It is so that I can buy a lot of junk for not so much money. In peace.
Judging by your Belly, you're going to have your hands full. Might I suggest Winn-Dixie?
Salome

Then I drove to the gym. No place to park. Drove around to park in back, but then remembered the ominous warning we were given when we became members. Don't ever leave valuables in your car and we are not responsible regardless. That and the signs posted all over the parking lot, as well as the locker rooms which say, Don't ever leave anything of any value, even to the most cracked out crackhead, or you will never see it again and we are not responsible. Thank you and wipe the machines after use.
So I drove around to the front of the gym.

I parked and got out of the car. I looked in the window and saw that all my favorite TV elliptical machines were in use. Whereupon I decided it was a sign from God that I am not supposed to work out today.

I quietly squinted and bitched my way home and now here I am with a brand new bedspread and something to stop the Vesuvius of clothing that has erupted from my overtaxed closet.

I will post pictures once I am done. But not before. I don't want you to know how much of a slob I truly am.

salome

Intervention

Have any of you seen that show, Intervention? I just watched two episodes, Sylvia and Ryan.

Sylvia is an alcoholic, and ohmygod. Next time I joke that I'm an alcoholic remind me of Sylvia. It was heartbreaking to see what this woman's life was like.

Ryan was a wealthy young man with an OxyContin addiction. He was totally out of control.

Sylvia went through the intervention, agreed to the treatment center and has been sober a year. You could tell she wanted help desperately. She was such a cool cool lady.

Ryan went through the intervention and (totally and completely high) agreed to the treatment center. He was kicked out less than 1/4 through the program and transferred to a lesser one, closer to home. He left that after 2 weeks and moved to LA. He is still using.

Heartwrenching.

I got some news over the weekend that was awful.
I'm going to respect some privacy, even though you couldn't possibly know her, but just trust me when I say that a woman needs your help. Think of a pretty redheaded woman and say a little prayer that she will be just fine. She needs some good wishes.

I hate NaBloPoMo

I don't have anything to say today.

Tired, ready to go back to work, done with the endless days of my own thoughts.

I will say this:

Salome will be preparing a Carcharodonna 2007 Holiday Mix CD.
Let me know if you want one, you can email me at carcharodonna@mac.com.

Email your mailing address.
It will include recent hits that I'm liking, as well as some of my rather obscure music tastes.

That is all, and it counts because I posted it.

My Wild Self

www.buildyourwildself.com

What I Am is What I Am is What You Are or Why

You're The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe!

by C.S. Lewis

You were just looking for some decent clothes when everything changed
quite dramatically. For the better or for the worse, it is still hard to tell. Now it
seems like winter will never end and you feel cursed. Soon there will be an epic
struggle between two forces in your life and you are very concerned about a betrayal
that could turn the balance. If this makes it sound like you're re-enacting Christian
theological events, that may or may not be coincidence. When in doubt, put your trust
in zoo animals.


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.