Boy, there is just nothing going on in my life to blog about right now. Except for...well, you know...but I'm trying to exercise some restraint on that topic. Suffice it to say that all is well. (For the moment, at least. You didn't think I was going to be completely and uncharacteristically positive, did you? Heh.)
So I'm just going to make some lists. It seems to be the trend of the week in this part of the blogosphere, so I'll jump right on that bandwagon. Here we go. Five lists of five.
Five Things I Love Right Now:
1. Friends who'll take (and keep) a stray dog
2. My new tattoo
3. Iced tea (my god, am I sleepy at the old desk this afternoon)
4. It's almost State Fair time--yay! for food on sticks
5. Falling asleep holding hands (okay, say it with me...awwwwwww)
Five Things I Hate Right Now:
1. That I've gone and made my digestive system so (relatively) healthy that when I overdo the dairy even just a little, I am punished. Damned healthy lifestyle!
2. My hair (It's been raining, and I'm overdue for a cut. BAD combination.)
3. Long, rainy afternoons that must be spent at work, and not cuddled up at home with a book
4. That my dog Pudge feels a bit neglected lately, poor baby
5. Ann Coulter (okay, that's more of an ongoing hate, but I just read where she was wishing someone would issue a fatwa against her--I've got your fatwa right here, bitch)
Five Places I Wish I Could Be Right Now:
1. New York City
2. Home on the couch with Pudge (or New Guy, you know...whichever)
3. Getting a massage
4. Anywhere in Europe
5. Hanging out with BFF on any random day during the summer of 1985 (okay, this would involve time travel, but we're just wishing here, right?) (oh, and except the day where I had to buy him the eyepatch while theoretically stoned--don't need to do THAT again)
Five Things I Wish I Could Do (and sure, I could take classes and accomplish some of these things, but that would be work; I just wish I could magically do them):
1. Really dance
2. Speak a second language fluently
3. Play the guitar
4. Jewelry metalsmithing
5. Paint (of the fine arts variety--I'm quite a fine house/room painter)
Five Famous People I'd Like to Meet:
1. Jon Stewart
2. Amy Sedaris
3. Christopher Durang
4. Meryl Streep
5. Posh Spice
Kidding!
5. Britney Spears
Oh, I'm a laugh riot today, aren't I?
Okay...I was going to wind up the list with Archbishop Desmond Tutu or former president Jimmy Carter, but I just realized I really would like to meet Britney. The current Britney. The crazy one. I want to see if the cuckoo juice is just seeping visibly out of her pores at this point. I'm a little ashamed. (But only a little. Come on--she's MUCH more interesting now, isn't she?)
And on that note, I'll just take my shame and head on out of here. Maybe I'll make myself put my head down on my desk and be quiet, like they used to do in grade school. Only then it was punishment--now it sounds like heaven. Heh.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Friday, September 21, 2007
The Return of Friday Flotsam
So, Liz, are you still working out? How are Dolly and McBeady? You're not still doing that New Guy's laundry, are you?
I am still working out, thanks for asking. I will confess that I have not been QUITE so diligent. I've missed a day here or there this last month, but only a few. I'm still working out at least 5 days a week. Maybe not always the whole 75 minutes I was doing, but usually at least 40. I was pretty freaked out the first day I realized I wasn't going to manage to get the workout in, but then I realized, given my OCD tendencies, that I probably SHOULD miss an occasional day. It's good to shake up that routine occasionally. And the day after the missed workout, I realized I really MISSED the missed workout, and really enjoyed getting back to it. I seem to have become, without realizing it, someone who actually enjoys exercise. And I need to be someone who enjoys exercise but can deal with missing a day here and there, because eventually I am going to want to audition for a show, and I'm sure that will impact the workout schedule, as well. So that's all good.
Dolly and McBeady are fine, thanks again for asking. They're still hanging around, though they have not yet reclaimed the backyard they abandoned when Wiley showed up. Neither one of them has yet set foot in it. They eat on the front porch, and I have no idea where they're sleeping at night. They have their hideouts, I guess. I try not to worry about them. McBeady has become fairly attached to the front porch, sometimes even napping on it, and he gets very excited when he hears me coming around the side of the house with breakfast. He comes running to meet me at the corner, and anxiously questions me the whole time I'm walking, throwing in the occasional hiss if I look at him too closely. He has a very silly, scratchy little meow, and he doesn't let up with the inquiries until the food is in the dish. "Mrrowww...is that the food? (hiss) Is that the food? Is that the food? (hiss) Mrroww..." Silly McBeady. Have I failed to feed you even ONCE since you invited yourself to join us for daily meals?
Okay...yes, I'm still doing New Guy's laundry. Shut up! (I promise to come up with a blog name soon. I think I'm a little superstitious...as soon as I come up with a great pseudonym, he'll certainly dump me. I am a crazy person.) He doesn't have a washer and dryer, and I do. I don't want him sitting in a laundromat, eating into the time available for getting his house in order and spending time with me, after all. I am the world's greatest girlfriend. If, indeed, he considers me his girlfriend. We've seen each other almost every day for the last month (four weeks tomorrow, but who's counting?)--every day that he wasn't out-of-town--does that qualify me for girlfriend status yet? I don't know. I don't know anything. I'm trying to relax and enjoy whatever comes my way. (I'm trying. I'm a Virgo, so it's hard, but I'm trying.)
At any rate, life seems pretty good at the moment. Maybe that little "Year of Liz 2007" trophy Stefanie sent me is good luck! Perhaps it should become a travelling trophy, going every year to someone else who needs some good juju!
Of course, if he dumps me next week, just AFTER I drive to his house with a load of freshly washed, carefully folded laundry, I might have to rethink that plan. Heh.
Good weekends, everyone!
I am still working out, thanks for asking. I will confess that I have not been QUITE so diligent. I've missed a day here or there this last month, but only a few. I'm still working out at least 5 days a week. Maybe not always the whole 75 minutes I was doing, but usually at least 40. I was pretty freaked out the first day I realized I wasn't going to manage to get the workout in, but then I realized, given my OCD tendencies, that I probably SHOULD miss an occasional day. It's good to shake up that routine occasionally. And the day after the missed workout, I realized I really MISSED the missed workout, and really enjoyed getting back to it. I seem to have become, without realizing it, someone who actually enjoys exercise. And I need to be someone who enjoys exercise but can deal with missing a day here and there, because eventually I am going to want to audition for a show, and I'm sure that will impact the workout schedule, as well. So that's all good.
Dolly and McBeady are fine, thanks again for asking. They're still hanging around, though they have not yet reclaimed the backyard they abandoned when Wiley showed up. Neither one of them has yet set foot in it. They eat on the front porch, and I have no idea where they're sleeping at night. They have their hideouts, I guess. I try not to worry about them. McBeady has become fairly attached to the front porch, sometimes even napping on it, and he gets very excited when he hears me coming around the side of the house with breakfast. He comes running to meet me at the corner, and anxiously questions me the whole time I'm walking, throwing in the occasional hiss if I look at him too closely. He has a very silly, scratchy little meow, and he doesn't let up with the inquiries until the food is in the dish. "Mrrowww...is that the food? (hiss) Is that the food? Is that the food? (hiss) Mrroww..." Silly McBeady. Have I failed to feed you even ONCE since you invited yourself to join us for daily meals?
Okay...yes, I'm still doing New Guy's laundry. Shut up! (I promise to come up with a blog name soon. I think I'm a little superstitious...as soon as I come up with a great pseudonym, he'll certainly dump me. I am a crazy person.) He doesn't have a washer and dryer, and I do. I don't want him sitting in a laundromat, eating into the time available for getting his house in order and spending time with me, after all. I am the world's greatest girlfriend. If, indeed, he considers me his girlfriend. We've seen each other almost every day for the last month (four weeks tomorrow, but who's counting?)--every day that he wasn't out-of-town--does that qualify me for girlfriend status yet? I don't know. I don't know anything. I'm trying to relax and enjoy whatever comes my way. (I'm trying. I'm a Virgo, so it's hard, but I'm trying.)
At any rate, life seems pretty good at the moment. Maybe that little "Year of Liz 2007" trophy Stefanie sent me is good luck! Perhaps it should become a travelling trophy, going every year to someone else who needs some good juju!
Of course, if he dumps me next week, just AFTER I drive to his house with a load of freshly washed, carefully folded laundry, I might have to rethink that plan. Heh.
Good weekends, everyone!
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
You say it's your birthday?
Well, it's my birthday, too.
The day started out with a bang, so to speak. And that's all I'm sayin' 'bout that.
My mother is taking me to lunch. New Guy (who still needs a blog name) is taking me to dinner. There will be snacks at work.
And, to remind myself why my mother won't be coming with gifts in tow, I have posted a picture of my piano, which we agreed would be my birthday present. Here it is, in all its (keys scrubbed within an inch of their lives) glory.
Thanks for all the birthday wishes and tattoo compliments. Much appreciated!
The day started out with a bang, so to speak. And that's all I'm sayin' 'bout that.
My mother is taking me to lunch. New Guy (who still needs a blog name) is taking me to dinner. There will be snacks at work.
And, to remind myself why my mother won't be coming with gifts in tow, I have posted a picture of my piano, which we agreed would be my birthday present. Here it is, in all its (keys scrubbed within an inch of their lives) glory.
Thanks for all the birthday wishes and tattoo compliments. Much appreciated!
Monday, September 17, 2007
The best birthday present EVER
My lovely, wonderful, compassionate, caring (and did I say wonderful?) friends Julie and Tony gave me the BEST birthday present this weekend. They're NOT giving the dog back. (At least not right now, at any rate.) It's the best birthday present ever! And he's the naughtiest puppy ever! And yet they haven't shot him (or me!) yet. I can't thank them enough for hanging in there with "Spock." (He couldn't remain "Wiley"--they already had a "Riley.") They are earning HUGE karmic dividends. And did I mention how wonderful they are?
I gave myself a birthday present this weekend, as well. Here it is, folks:
As you can see, I went with the left forearm. Don't be alarmed by the slight redddish hue around it. That's perfectly normal--I'm not dying of a blood infection. That I know of. In a couple of days the red will go away, and then it will start to scab over. Can't pick that scab, though! It has to flake away gradually on its own or you lose the color.
Do you like it? I like it.
Did it hurt? Oh, some people might have called that pain. I, however, have had screws drilled into my bones, and have crushed my fingers in a pizza dough roller. THAT's pain. This was...short-lived, minor discomfort.
Nothing at all like the pain of living with "Spock"--hey, Julie? (You're a saint.)
I gave myself a birthday present this weekend, as well. Here it is, folks:
As you can see, I went with the left forearm. Don't be alarmed by the slight redddish hue around it. That's perfectly normal--I'm not dying of a blood infection. That I know of. In a couple of days the red will go away, and then it will start to scab over. Can't pick that scab, though! It has to flake away gradually on its own or you lose the color.
Do you like it? I like it.
Did it hurt? Oh, some people might have called that pain. I, however, have had screws drilled into my bones, and have crushed my fingers in a pizza dough roller. THAT's pain. This was...short-lived, minor discomfort.
Nothing at all like the pain of living with "Spock"--hey, Julie? (You're a saint.)
Friday, September 14, 2007
(Inappropriate) Friday Smile
When you are walking across the parking lot from the bank to the sub shop, and you pass a somewhat disreputable-looking fellow on the sidewalk, and he yells out "Got them boobies! Pretty lady! Got them boobies!" you should NOT laugh, right? 'Cause I didn't, but I sure wanted to. It was just so silly. I mean...if you could see me today. Not only am I NOT showing even the tiniest bit of cleavage, but I'm wearing a shirt and vest so loose-fitting (yay! weight loss) and comfy that I'm surprised he could even tell I was a woman at that distance. Okay, maybe the skirt gave it away. Them boobies, though? Pretty well-disguised.
Oh heck, he probably just yells that same phrase at everyone. Heh.
Oh heck, he probably just yells that same phrase at everyone. Heh.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Happy Blogiversary to me
Yes, LizLand is one today! Let's all have cake. And ice cream. And pointy party hats. And you know what, go ahead and smear that cake all over your face. Good clean fun!
I would love to post something pithy and witty and wise in honor of the occasion, but I just don't think that's going to happen. I started out the day cleaning up the mess that is made when you spend the night on the other side of town and therefore aren't available to your poor 86-pound puppy dog when he suffers a flare-up of his occasional diarrhea in the middle of the night and is forced to have an accident by the back door. A big accident. A big, sprawling, stinky accident. Poor Pudge. I feel like the worst mother in the world. I had to snuggle on the bed with him for a few minutes and apologize. I think he forgives me. Dogs are good that way.
So, anyway...I think I'll forget about aiming for pithy and witty and wise, and just say thank you to the fabulous people who visit and/or comment here, both regularly and occasionally. (Except maybe that perv who got here by googling "brother and sister peeing in each other's mouth." No thanks to you.) This is truly a most excellent corner of the blogosphere. Your wit and insight and product recommendations and all-around sage advice have made it a delight to be amongst you this past year. I'm proud to call you "blends."
Now let's take a vote. I'm planning to get another tattoo as a birthday present to myself. (It's a week from today. I'll be 45. Yes, I am old, and no, it doesn't bother me.) The tattoo will be small and all-black. It will be the word "harmony" rendered in Cherokee syllabary. (Which you can say to yourself like this, phonetically: Nuh wah doe hee yaw duh.)
I would love to post something pithy and witty and wise in honor of the occasion, but I just don't think that's going to happen. I started out the day cleaning up the mess that is made when you spend the night on the other side of town and therefore aren't available to your poor 86-pound puppy dog when he suffers a flare-up of his occasional diarrhea in the middle of the night and is forced to have an accident by the back door. A big accident. A big, sprawling, stinky accident. Poor Pudge. I feel like the worst mother in the world. I had to snuggle on the bed with him for a few minutes and apologize. I think he forgives me. Dogs are good that way.
So, anyway...I think I'll forget about aiming for pithy and witty and wise, and just say thank you to the fabulous people who visit and/or comment here, both regularly and occasionally. (Except maybe that perv who got here by googling "brother and sister peeing in each other's mouth." No thanks to you.) This is truly a most excellent corner of the blogosphere. Your wit and insight and product recommendations and all-around sage advice have made it a delight to be amongst you this past year. I'm proud to call you "blends."
Now let's take a vote. I'm planning to get another tattoo as a birthday present to myself. (It's a week from today. I'll be 45. Yes, I am old, and no, it doesn't bother me.) The tattoo will be small and all-black. It will be the word "harmony" rendered in Cherokee syllabary. (Which you can say to yourself like this, phonetically: Nuh wah doe hee yaw duh.)
(Please to ignore the gray background, which I can't seem to make go away.)
Bearing in mind that I already have small tattoos on the inside of my right ankle, just above my right boob and high up on my left arm--where should I put the new one? I'm leaning toward the left ankle or lower down on the left arm. I want it to be where I can see it, so no shoulder blade or "tramp stamp" placement. It needs to be somewhere that can be easily hidden if necessary when I do a play. Any suggestions/opinions?
Monday, September 10, 2007
Want some milk and sugar for that big bowl of words you're eating?
Yeah, remember when I smugly said I would NOT be spending a great deal of time on "that side of town"?
I've driven to "that side of town" more times than I can count in the last week. More times than I've done so in the last several YEARS.
I am apparently besotted.
I will, of course, start insisting at some point that he come to my house some nights, but for now he's got so much on his plate with the demanding new job, the trips to see his kids and trying to get everything unpacked and put away that I haven't the heart to do it.
I did his laundry this weekend while he was out of town.
See above re: apparent besottedness.
If he dumps me now, I'll...why, I'll...REFUSE TO DO ANY MORE OF HIS LAUNDRY.
That'll show him.
I've driven to "that side of town" more times than I can count in the last week. More times than I've done so in the last several YEARS.
I am apparently besotted.
I will, of course, start insisting at some point that he come to my house some nights, but for now he's got so much on his plate with the demanding new job, the trips to see his kids and trying to get everything unpacked and put away that I haven't the heart to do it.
I did his laundry this weekend while he was out of town.
See above re: apparent besottedness.
If he dumps me now, I'll...why, I'll...REFUSE TO DO ANY MORE OF HIS LAUNDRY.
That'll show him.
Thursday, September 06, 2007
Happy, happy...
..joy, joy, happy, happy, joy. Happy, happy, joy, joy, happy, happy, joy. Happy, happy, joy, joy, happy, happy, joy. Happy, happy, joy, joy, joy.
For some reason the "Soyjoy" commercial jingle keeps running through my head. Hmm...wonder what could be causing that?
For some reason the "Soyjoy" commercial jingle keeps running through my head. Hmm...wonder what could be causing that?
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
So, how's it going, you ask?
Let's just say the bubble hasn't burst. And yet, because I am a crazy person, at least once each day I become convinced, for no discernible reason, that it is going to burst ANY MINUTE NOW. What the hell is wrong with me? I am working on relaxing and enjoying things as they come. And I am at least managing to keep the crazy inside, where it belongs, and not inflicting it on those around me. Heh.
I did survive my first evening excursion to "the other side of town," so there's that. Hee.
How was the lesbian wedding? Well, it was just lovely. It was much more formal than I was expecting, for some reason. Singing Lesbian wore a full-length formal white gown, complete with train and veil. Non-Singing Lesbian wore a black tux. My friend Jewish Jazz Singer Lesbian sang a beautiful song. The priest made several pithy remarks in his sermon that really resonated with me (in my current bubbly/terrified state). It was maybe the most diverse group of people I've ever seen assembled in a church (and no, Cute Church Guy was not there--hardly any actual members of the church were--I guess they were hesitant to invite people unless they knew how they felt about the whole gay marriage issue). And afterwards there was cake, and a bowl of The Punch of a Different Color. (Seriously, every time we looked up there was a different brightly-colored flavor of punch in that bowl. JJSL and I amused ourselves by imagining that it was magical punch, like the horse in the Wizard of Oz. Hee.) So congrats to the girls. May they live a long and happy life together.
May we ALL live long and happy lives. Not too much to ask, is it? (Universe--I'm talking to you. Yeah, you.)
Let's just say the bubble hasn't burst. And yet, because I am a crazy person, at least once each day I become convinced, for no discernible reason, that it is going to burst ANY MINUTE NOW. What the hell is wrong with me? I am working on relaxing and enjoying things as they come. And I am at least managing to keep the crazy inside, where it belongs, and not inflicting it on those around me. Heh.
I did survive my first evening excursion to "the other side of town," so there's that. Hee.
How was the lesbian wedding? Well, it was just lovely. It was much more formal than I was expecting, for some reason. Singing Lesbian wore a full-length formal white gown, complete with train and veil. Non-Singing Lesbian wore a black tux. My friend Jewish Jazz Singer Lesbian sang a beautiful song. The priest made several pithy remarks in his sermon that really resonated with me (in my current bubbly/terrified state). It was maybe the most diverse group of people I've ever seen assembled in a church (and no, Cute Church Guy was not there--hardly any actual members of the church were--I guess they were hesitant to invite people unless they knew how they felt about the whole gay marriage issue). And afterwards there was cake, and a bowl of The Punch of a Different Color. (Seriously, every time we looked up there was a different brightly-colored flavor of punch in that bowl. JJSL and I amused ourselves by imagining that it was magical punch, like the horse in the Wizard of Oz. Hee.) So congrats to the girls. May they live a long and happy life together.
May we ALL live long and happy lives. Not too much to ask, is it? (Universe--I'm talking to you. Yeah, you.)
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