Tooth news.
Lee went to the dentist yesterday; he did have to get the tooth extracted. He went to the oral surgeon (Maxiliofacial Associates, near Colorado College–he recommends them highly), and everything went well.
Much less pain now, and all our shoulders relax just a little.
Romance.
Slow-dancing to a not-so-slow dancing song while your daughter runs around in a circle, screeching.
Dancing!
Dancing!
Milestone.
Today was Ray’s first big apology.
She smashed a dozen eggs into the carpet of her bedroom. For not the first time. She and I picked up eggshells (by hand, becuause she can’t vaccuum) and sopped up the goo.
Then she apologized to Daddy, because it was driving him nuts.
“Sorry eggs. Broken eggs. Sorry.”
And then she gave him a hug.
–Okay, it took some prompting, but everything was all better after that. I’m very proud.
Beatitudes.
Ever wonder if the Beatitudes of the Bible are kind of like Chinese curses?
“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.”
“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.”
Be careful what you wish for…
something good
can happen
something lucky
’cause i’m ready
for something unexpected
i keep waiting
for the other shoe to drop
but i’m ready for
something good instead
i’m ready to be delighted
Hitherby Dragons.
“I have brought you gifts, too,” Sabin says. “Fine foods. Silks. A woman for your harem.”
“No sexual services,” Parmys clarifies. She studies the creature, and then nods firmly. “I am strictly a prestige odalisque.”
–RSBorgstrom
Job.
No job.
PS. It went to an internal candidate. Also, the guy confirms: It wasn’t the writing or the professionalism. The other candidate had more internal departmental experience.
Sigh.
Strange Moose. We watched Brother Bear today.
That is Rick Moranis and Dave Thomas.
Doug McKenzie: I am your father, Luke. Give in to the dark side of the force, you knob.
Bob McKenzie: He saw Jedi 17 times, eh.
Easter.
We did the plastic egg/sticker version of decorating Easter eggs. Why? Less mess. Ironically, Ray got ahold of a permanent marker I’d been using and colored on the floor. On the other hand, there are still no worries about missing eggs going bad.
I think I’m going to make devilied eggs, anyway.
Lee helped me fill eggs and hide them last night–we had a blast. Most of the eggs were easily found (and less easily opened). Much chocolate was eaten, although less than I would have expected. The bunny has not yet been devoured. The Mardi Gras beads were presented to all, including the cat.
Rrg.
Sethra Lavode is out.
And I don’t have it.
News.
The QC position did not pan out.
The tech writer position is still up in the air.
Still.
Update 04/08/04
And I mean STILL.
Chocolate.
Ever have one of those moments when you have one last piece of chocolate on your desk that you’ve been saving? You walk away for a moment and come back: and it’s gone. You lick your lips and taste chocolate, so you know it was you that ate it, but you don’t remember having eaten it.
Damn.
Introspection.
One of my favorite poems is “The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock” by TS Eliot. It’s about getting older and despair, but it’s done in such a witty way that you have problems believing that it could be all that bad.
I feel like I’m starting to sound like Prufrock, not in detail but in essence. “Hm…let’s see how much cleverness I can put into this bitch session…”
De, it’s not that bad.
P.S. Final job updates by Tuesday. They promised.
Books.
Okay. After putting it off for a few years, I’ve finally started reading Dorothy Sayers. Maybe true bibliophiles will scoff at this, but reading her stuff gives me the pleasure of reading Sherlock Holmes combined with Jane Austin.
Funny. Sayer’s biography sounds similar to Doyle’s in a few spots. Wrote things, didn’t become famous until she’d come up with a detective character. Wrote him until she couldn’t stand to do it anymore, quit and did religious things. Lots of dissimilarities, but there you go.
Finishing Stone of Tears by Terry Goodkind. I still have to be in a mood to read him, and his style still bugs me, but there’s something weird and unpredictable about him, so when I am in that mood, he’s very, very good. And Jordan he is not.
Huzzah!
I went to Scooby Doo 2. I laughed ’till I cried. Yeah, I can pick it apart; I can pick anything apart. I still laughed ’till I cried.
Note on SMG:
Yes, she’s a bitch. I like her. She’s a bitch.
Wow.
petrichor (PET-ri-kuhr) noun
The pleasant smell that accompanies the first rain after a dry spell.
–via AWAD.
