Sorry. I just can't seem to get my brain to function in a well-thought out, coherent, clear-cut tale sort of way these days. Welcome to my world. (And boy, if you could join me in my head for my dreams lately, you'd really know what I mean. Crazy stuff.) Though I really need to kick said brain into gear soon, since the upcoming BlogShare is next week, and I won't want to be posting "random pieces of my head" for that. Hee.
So, what's up?
Well, I am officially cast in the play. The director hasn't finalized the cast--she's having some trouble deciding on the two lead characters, the "young" guys--but she's chosen the three women and a couple of the older guys, and we start rehearsal next week. It's a straight-up, by the numbers farce, complete with wacky cross-dressing and a lecherous IRS agent, and truthfully, it probably wouldn't have been my first choice for my triumphant return to the stage (hee), but it's the right director at the right time, so I'm happy to do it.
What's up with New Guy, you ask? Well, he is feeling somewhat better, both emotionally and physically, and he is trying to be more considerate, I can tell, so...we'll see. Funny moment...he had a root canal recently (which still isn't quite finished, actually) and when I asked how it was feeling post-procedure, he said there had only been one time in the last few days when he got one of those electric "jolts" from the nerve that had been bedeviling him so much before. "Oh, that was just me sticking a pin into the voodoo doll I made of you," I said straight-faced. "Well," he said, "that probably explains the pain in my back, too, then." And we laughed. It's good to laugh together. It makes me remember why I'm not ready to give up on him.
Would you like to know what I love most about my cat, Charlie? Well, I'll tell you, anyway. Hee. He's kind of an odd fellow, and he's not big on sleeping on the bed with me during the night, but in the morning, as soon as the snooze button gets hit for the first time, he HAS to come over and wedge himself into the space between my thighs. He prefers me to lie on my back or stomach for this, and crook one leg, so there's a perfect cat-spaced shape for him to fill. He then nestles there, purring and making kitty biscuits, until I actually give the "I'm getting up now" signal. It's so cute. It's our "thing." Of course, it doesn't make it any easier to get out of bed. "I have to lie here a little longer--I can't disturb Charlie." Cats are weird. As are cat ladies.
And, as further proof of my insanity...would you like to know my favorite thing about my dog, Pudge? It's the "victory lap" he takes after he poops. No, really. The actual decision as to placement of the poop within the yard is very deliberate and lengthy, and then once he's done he immediately takes a sprint around the yard, grinning like a doggy fool. He does it EVERY TIME. It cracks me up. And yet, I understand...it DOES feel good to have pooped, doesn't it?
I can't tell you how irritated I am with our local weather forecasters lately. They kind of missed the boat on the Great Ice Storm of Ought-Seven--oh, they predicted ice, but they failed to predict the SEVERITY of the ice, and apparently they're embarrassed about it, and determined not to miss the boat again, so they have done nothing but SOUND THE ALARM over and over since then. The problem with that? Well, none of their dire predictions have come true, and I'm getting tired of the constant state of panic they apparently desire for us to be in. It's FEBRUARY. There might be freezing rain or snow. We get it. Back off. Two or three times in the last month my mother has called me at work to see if I "made it in okay." Umm...yeah, why wouldn't I? "Well, on the news they're saying Tulsa has ice." Well, they're wrong. Unless you count that crust on the top of Dolly and McBeady's water bowl outside. And, while that's annoying for Dolly and McBeady, it hardly affects my ability to drive myself to work. Sheesh.
Okay, it's probably time to do some work. And maybe eat some M&Ms. Yum....M&Ms.