Well, that was...a Christmas.

**Edited to say that I don't know what Blogger has against proper spacing today, but it seems unfixable, sorry.**

So, what's been happening since last we spoke? Let's run it down, shall we?

Wednesday, Christmas Eve: worked a half-day. The owner brought in lunch for everyone...from a barbeque restaurant. What does a vegetarian eat in this situation? A cheese sandwich dipped in barbeque sauce, plus sides of potato salad and cole slaw. Fully carbo-loaded, I went home and lazed for the rest of the afternoon. Went to church that evening, sang, people loved it, went home. Alone. Sigh.

Thursday, Christmas Day: slept until nearly 8:00 a.m.! (This is definitely sleeping in for me.) Went to the office to feed the work cats, and then waited at home for my family to arrive. Which they did at the unheard-of time of 11:30 a.m.! (It's really hard to get my sister and brother-in-law out and about that early on a weekday.) I had specifically requested that nobody spend much money on presents for me, since I had very little to spend on anyone else. (I must have been prescient, since I made the request even before I spent my Christmas bonus PLUS on car repairs.) Well, they didn't completely heed my request, and I was the recipient of a gift card to CP Jenney's, and my new cleaning girl, MUFFY:

Why "Muffy," you're asking? Well, she's girly and lightweight and PINK. Oh, so pink. I'm not sure this picture adequately conveys the pinkness of the pink. Longtime readers will remember that I am not such a fan of PINK, overall...which my sister knew, of course...and why she thought it hilarious to give me a bright pink vacuum. I have to admit, I grin a little every time I see it. Perhaps that was the point.


We then proceeded to the nearest Chinese buffet. (It's true, they are all open. It's not true, however, that the waiters will gather around your table and sing "Deck the harrs with boughs of horry." Sadly.) I was amused by the fact that my mother seemed to need to assure every staff member who came to the table that WE didn't usually eat out on Christmas, and in fact, this was our very first time, and it was only because she and my sister were so tired of cooking for their catering business. It made me giggle. They're not judging us, Mom! You're not a bad mother 'cause you're not cooking a turkey and baking pies today.

Anyway, here comes the heartwarming part of the story...

A very old man entered the restaurant just as we did. All by himself. Which is enough to make you sad, all on its own. But then my brother-in-law happened to be in earshot when the management required the very old man to pay upfront for his meal. (They weren't doing this to anyone else.) Now, maybe they have reason to know that he's a bad risk, and maybe they were just suspicious because he seemed so downtrodden. Whatever, it's still a bummer.


Now, my brother-in-law and I don't always see eye-to-eye. We have very, VERY different political viewpoints, and that has caused some problems. But he treats my sister well, and I have known him to be very generous. Well, he went up to the manager and told them to give the old man his money back, and put his lunch on our tab. Nice, right? It gets better.


When our bill came, my parents and my bro-in-law began haggling, as usual, over who would pay. My mother finally threw some cash down on the table and announced that she would under no circumstances take it back. B-I-L announced with equal fervor that he was paying the bill with his credit card, and that cash wasn't going into HIS pocket. At which point my sister quietly announced that she knew whose pocket it was going into...and she walked it over to the table where the old man was still sitting, slipped it into his hand and wished him a merry Christmas. She said when he opened his hand and saw the bills all he could say was "oh, oh, oh." Now, I don't care if the old coot spent the whole thing on hookers and blow, that's still a Hallmark moment!


We went back to the house, they got on the road towards home, and that's about it for Christmas Day. Though I am happy to report that the fruit bars from, let's say..."Borgan's Makery," the little hometown bakery I hadn't been to in forever, are just as fabulous as I remembered them. I had specifically requested that they bring me some, as I hadn't had one in 20 years, and then had a panicked moment where I worried that maybe they had changed the recipe, and I was going to spoil my memories. Needless worry. Heh. What is a "fruit bar"? Well, it's a really chewy, flat cookie full of dried fruit. It's better than it sounds.


Friday, Boxing Day: I slept until 8:00 again, then went to feed the office cats. On my way back home, I suddenly lost my power steering. Lovely! With some over-the-phone coaching from my dad, I managed to figure out that a belt was broken. There's an auto parts store near my house, so I went there, purchased a new belt, and then took my choice of several of a strip mall full of "mecanicos," any of which the auto parts guy assured me could help me out. (Yes, I kind of live near Little Mexico.) I picked the one with the most recently painted signage, and what seemed to be a bustling business. The guy agreed to replace the belt: "five minutes...twenty dollars?" I handed him cash, he didn't write anything down or give me a receipt, and off I went, happy as could be. It's good to know there's an agreeable shade tree mecanico so close by. I swung by the grocery store to make sure I had enough cat food until payday, in case yet ANOTHER thing broke on the stinkin' car and stranded me without wheels.


Then, later that afternoon...I decided to brave the mall. I know, I know...what was I thinking? Well, I made it out alive, having pretty much used up gift cards from my mother and the owner of my company. I scored a nice black vest, a pepper grinder to match the salt grinder I bought with last year's card from my boss, a BIG jar of peppercorns, a new throw to cover my ugly couch and some socks. Merry Christmas to me. The remaining $8 on my "Jenney's" card will have to wait for another day, as I couldn't stand one more minute in that crowd.


Saturday, the Day After the Day After Christmas: aside from a couple of trips to feed the work cats, I didn't leave the house. Nor did I shower or change out of what passes for my "pajamas." It was nice.


Sunday, the Day After...ah, I give up: Fed the cats, went to church, stopped at the grocery store for sundried tomatoes, made my "famous" hot, cheesy dip and went to readers' club (where my blog identity was revealed to the room at large, so...hi there, readers, if you're reading). There was LOTS of food, and I ended up taking about half the dip home. On the plus side--I got to take half of the cheesy goodness home! On the minus side--I had to take half of the cheesy badness home. Heh.


And...I guess that's it. Would you like a quick bachelor update? I thought you would.


Guy #1 (the "you have too many cats" guy) and I are having a lovely little pen pal friendship. It's kind of fun getting to know someone with the pressure off. There's no "will we or won't we," as I know we won't...so, we're just chatting. He might even come to my church some Sunday.


Guy #2--the outright lunatic. Peppered me with additional pleas to consider his wooing, including one missive which assured me that he was a good risk, as he has remained friends with ALL his exes, "except for that one crazy in Colorado last summer." Ha! I ignored the emails, and I guess he showed me! Yesterday he informed me that he was now interested in someone else, and SHE is not only interested in him, but she's going to let him come over and fix her jacuzzi. Well, looks like I sure lost out there, huh?


Guy #3--the "love poetry" guy. Well, his response to my (perhaps too honestly) saying that I would probably post unsolicited erotica on my blog was short and sweet: "Merry Christmas and have a good 2009." Okay, dude...I certainly hope to.


I had a tentative date for dinner or a movie tonight with Obama Guy, but apparently it was even more tentative than I thought, as I haven't heard from him since he assured me via email a couple of days ago that he would be in touch to discuss details. Umm...dude...you're running out of time. The smart money says that he calls me around 8:00 tonight to see if I'm ready to make plans. The smarter money says I'm no Rules Girl, but that's WAY too late to begin the date planning. Sigh. For the record, I don't think he's intentionally playing any games...he just operates on a different time continuum than I do. Guess working the overnight shift most nights messes with your concept of appropriate "start" times.


I had a couple of messages from additional guys on "Flentyofpish," but I'm not planning to respond to either of them. At least not positively. Though I kind of really want to respond to "Kiss me and then act like you dont want to kiss me again" with "Dude! Has this EVER worked?" Probably best to just leave it where it lays though. Lord have mercy on the single girl.

I might be a wee bit depressed.

I fell asleep on the couch last night pretty early, then woke up around midnight, wide awake, as usual. I stayed on the couch for a couple of hours catching up with Rachel and Keith, since I had rudely fallen asleep on them earlier, and at one point, I thought I heard something outside. However, since I was at the time trapped beneath a living blanket of kitty flesh, I waited for my show to be over, then got up to move to the bed and take a peek outside to see what was up.

There it was, in the road--the lifeless body of a small animal. "Please don't let it be Dolly!" It wasn't, thank goodness, but it was the big orange stray I've seen in and around my yard occasionally, and whom I've always suspected to be related in some way to Dolly and her kittens. I carried him into my yard, wrapped him in a plastic bag, and laid him in the flower bed until the morning, when I could call dead animal pickup. (Wrong time of year to try and bury him in that cold, frozen ground.)

Then I went to bed and started crying. It all seems so futile sometimes...you use the gifts and tools God gave you to cobble together an existence the best you can...and then, for all your pains, you end up dead in the middle of the road, in the middle of the cold, cold night.

Yeah...maybe a tad depressed.

Don't worry, though...the world didn't seem QUITE so bleak come morning. (Does it ever?) The holidays are nearly here and gone. 2008 is nearly gone, and 2009 has got to be better, right? I've got rehearsals starting soon...things will be looking up. The foolishly eternal optimist in me stubbornly refuses to admit defeat. Heh.

So, what else is going on? Well, I've been in the midst of another little flurry of online male attention. I've talked to 3 guys in the last few days. (Plus Obama Guy came to church on Sunday morning to hear me sing...I still think we're destined just to be friends, though.) So, am I optimistic about any of these guys? Not so much.

We've got Guy #1--smart, rabid environmentalist, seems to be a decent guy, but can't get past my many cats. Just can't. Keeps apologizing for it. Eh, I tell him...it happens. Big props for admitting it straight out and not just pulling the old disappearing act. We're still communicating...I think we might become very casual friends. I'm cool with that--we hadn't met in person yet, so I have no reason to think there would have been the necessary physical "spark" anyway, right?

Guy #2--I think he might be certifiably insane. He's done some interesting things, been some interesting places, really REALLY wants to meet me, but...he gave me his number on Friday. I told him I wasn't sure how my weekend would play out, but if I got a chance, I'd call. I got busy and didn't call, but was planning to Monday night. Then I got a very curt email message Monday afternoon suggesting I jump in the ice-cold river. Literally. That was the whole message. I responded with a "well, I WAS planning to call you tonight, but I won't be able to, with my fingers so cold from the icy water." (Hee.) Since then he's been apologizing nonstop, trying to explain how he's just become so jaded from his online experiences, pleading that he's not really like that, and if I would only agree to meet in person, so I could see what a wonderful person he is...blah, blah, blah. Nuts, right? I told him I wasn't comfortable exploring anything further with someone who would so quickly and harshly respond to a potential slight. He's still trying to persuade me. Umm...whatever, dude.

Guy #3--tall, nice-looking, seems smart enough...but wants to know if I would enjoy being sent poetic "erotic stories" from potential suitors, as apparently he's had "mixed reactions" to this in the past. My short answer? "No." My longer answer? Involved also telling him I would most likely post snippets of any such "stories" received on my blog, for the amusement of my friends. Heh.

I know, I know...you're all upset with me for tipping my hand before I got the love poetry to share with you. My apologies.

Alert readers may be wondering what happened to the "Male Me." Well, join the club...he disappeared into the ether, and I have absolutely NO idea why. Asshole. (Unless he's dead...in which case I'm very sorry for calling him an asshole. Don't take that out on my karma, please, universe.)

That's about all that's going on. I have been and still am dealing with car repairs (NO fun, the week before Christmas--goodbye, Christmas bonus), so I think my family may come here on Christmas Day, for the first time ever. Don't know how that will go. I'm trying to imagine us all comfortably enjoying a meal in my tiny house, with its limited seating...maybe we'll just eat out. What's open on Christmas, anyway?

I did receive a nice package of goodies from New Guy today. I got a little misty, until I opened the card. "Fondly, New Guy." FONDLY? I know he is trying not to lead me on in any way, but geez. For the record, I boldly signed HIS card, "Love, Liz." Heh. Still, it's nice to know he still thinks of me. FONDLY.

I knew it would happen eventually.

I'm disappointed in President-Elect Barack Obama. Rick Warren? Really? What, was Fred Phelps not available?

Okay, a bit harsh, but...look, I get the inclusiveness thing. I do. And for the most part, I'm in agreement with Obama's approach, but asking someone who has publicly compared homosexuals to pedophiles to give the invocation at what is possibly the most historic inauguration in history? It smacks to me of the worst sort of pandering to the religious right, and haven't we done enough pandering to them the last 8 years?

You want inclusive? How about Archbishop Desmond Tutu? (I will confess here to having a teeny bit of a crush on Des--he's adorable AND inspiring. It's irresistible. I saw him speak in person once, and let me tell you...goodness just FLOWS out of him. And yet, he's wonderfully self-deprecating and funny.) He knows all about inclusion and history-making.

Or hey, how about a WOMAN? Presiding Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori, right there at the National Cathedral. She knows from inclusion and history, too.

Okay, clearly I have a preference for Episopalians and mitre hats, but...how about Jim Wallis, author of "God's Politics"? He's got a lot of good stuff to say.

Well, I could go on, but what's the point? I'll just stick my fingers in my ears at that point of the ceremony and do a little "la, la, la." I guess I could throw a shoe towards the screen. Maybe a six-inch red patent leather drag queen pump. Heh.

The more things change...

So, I'm now reading "A People's History of the United States" by Howard Zinn. Have you all read this? Why not? Go and get it now. It should be required reading.

I was struck this morning by this passage: Around the same time (1730s), in New York, an election pamphlet urged New York voters to join "Shuttle" the weaver, "Plane" the joiner, "Drive" the carter, "Mortar" the mason, "Tar" the mariner, "Snip" the tailor, "Smallrent" the fair-minded landlord, and "John Poor" the tenant, against "Gripe the Merchant, Squeeze the Shopkeeper, Spintext and Quible the Lawyer." Hey--where's "Joe" the plumber?

Seriously, though...everyone needs to hear the "unsanitized" version of history at some point, don't you think, as they're blissfully celebrating Columbus Day, for example?

In other news, it is cold here. We've had a little ice, we've had a little snow....we've HAD IT. Yes, I am thankful we're not suffering more ice storm-related power outages (and feeling great empathy for all the people in the northeast who are), and I'm thankful we're not in single digits or worse, but...it's not even winter yet, technically. Bah.

I'll probably never be an Orthodox Jew

Or a Muslim, raised by Sufis in Morocco. I'll certainly never be a conjoined twin. I didn't live through the Dust Bowl, or endure the hardships of rural life in the previous century. I don't know how many people I'll meet in heaven, or if I'll ever live in another country.

But I have experienced all these things, through the magical power of literature! It always amazes me to hear people say, "Oh, I don't read." Or even, "I only read NON-fiction." What's wrong with these people, I ask you? (I know I'm pretty much preaching to the choir here. Heh.) What riches they're missing. And to you non-fiction only readers, here's a tip: something doesn't have to be strictly "true" to be full of "truths." (See, for example: the Bible. Sorry, fundamentalists.)

So, what am I getting at here? Well, this is my rambling and round-about way of saying that last week in the mail I received my free (in exchange for reviewing it on my blog) copy of "Who By Fire," by Diana Spechler, thanks to Lara of Red Red Whine fame. (Thanks, Lara and Diana!) I continued racing through "The Girls" (see above re: conjoined twins) and then dived into it.

And the verdict? Thumbs up.

Basically, the story is of a nominally Jewish family, struggling to deal with the tragic disappearance of a 6-year-old child, some 13 years earlier. The family members have reacted to the loss in widely varying ways; the remaining daughter, Bits, is very promiscuous, while the son, Ash, has immersed himself completely into Orthodox Judaism, going so far as to enroll in a yeshiva in Israel. The father has abandoned the family, and the mother has resisted all attempts to convince her to "move on," a process made more difficult by the fact that Alena's body was never found.

Until, finally, it seems...it has been. The mother tells Bits that Alena's remains have been found, and lays upon her the responsibility for bringing her brother home from Israel, where, she is convinced, he has become a member of a cult. And off the story goes.

I won't spoil any more of the plot, but let's just say that, while their lives are not neatly tied up in little bows, the ending does leave you with a feeling of hope, that these people just might be able to move forward to happier, healthier lives.

It's a very good read (I actually stayed up pretty late last night finishing off the remaining chapters), but also...it made me think. (Gasp!) About the sometimes blurry line between "religious community" and "cult." How overly strict adherence to religious dogma can leave you neither "holy" nor "whole." How guilt can consume and paralyze. The dangers of attempting to fill a hole in unhealthy ways. And here's a line straight from the book: "Here's what happens when you try to rescue someone. You find out you're the one who need rescuing."

Summation? I found it both entertaining and thought-provoking, and I look forward to reading more from this author.

As, indeed, I look forward to a lifetime of more reading, period. 'Cause, seriously, "I don't read"? Can't get behind that.

The contents of my brain

I'm just going to spew little bits of this and that. So as not to offend your delicate sensibilities, I will put it in the form of a bulleted list, which, while lazy, will at least be easier to read than one ginormous run-on paragraph. Which is sort of how my brain feels sometimes.

In no apparent order:

• I went to a party this weekend (happy birthday, George), and took a hot, cheesy dip that will now be my standard party offering, I think. I've had trouble coming up with a "signature" dish for this purpose--and I've tried such labor-intensive things as homemade potato salad and hand-rolled tamales--but this one fits the bill. I think if we had not been in (relatively) polite society, someone might have licked the dish. And it was so easy! (Goat cheese, cream cheese, shredded parmesan/asiago/romano blend and minced sundried tomatoes. Mix well and bake. You're welcome. Make a lot.) George is now old enough to run for president, and promises to make me the Minister of Cheese. Or the Cheese Czar.
• May I just respectfully ask Illinois Governor Blagojevich to go f*ck himself? What a douchebag.
• How 'bout them Sooners? Now, I'm not the biggest OU football fan in the world, by any means. I don't have a "Boomer Sooner" ringtone on my cellphone or anything, but if I'm home and a game's on and I don't have anything more pressing to do, I'll watch. And this season has been fun to watch--I love a good offense. Defensive battles just make me nervous. "Score, somebody, for the love of god, score!" Give me a nice big blowout every time. If that makes me a poor sport, too bad. The Sooners set all kinds of records with their offense this year, so...whoo hoo!
• Do your hands look like they belong to a lizard? Every winter my hands suffer from extreme dryness. (Damn the handwashing!) I've tried any number of lotions and creams, to little avail. You know what helps? Plain old petroleum jelly. Just lather it on several times a day. I guess I was always leery of doing this during the day for fear it would leave my hands feeling too greasy, but you know what? It doesn't. It soaks right in. After two days my hands look and feel better than they have in years.
• For the record, I consider myself a liberal, and despite what the media would have you believe, we're NOT all outraged at Obama's cabinet picks. I never thought he was all that liberal, despite what Limbaugh and his ilk would have us think, and I always expected that he would govern as a centrist and a pragmatist. It's what he said he would do. And I'm okay with that. I trust that he will guide us further left than where we've been for the last 8 years, and, given the major, major problems this country is currently facing, I think the center is the place to start. It took both sides of the aisle to get this f*cked up, and it will take both sides of the aisle to fix things. I reserve the right, of course, to be unhappy with him later, if it comes to that, but for now, I think he's doing just fine. Plus he's brilliant. I'm going to take comfort in that for a while.
• This Saturday is the crazy cat ladies' Christmas lunch. I will have boatloads of Christmas spirit for those couple of hours. I also very much enjoyed filling a couple of stockings for the elderly clients of a local senior service agency. I just can't quite seem to keep the spirit going. I have a theory: Christmas is magical when you're a child. The magic fades with time, though there are certainly always flashes of it, but it never truly returns until you have children of your own. And if you don't have children, well...then you have to settle for the flashes. That is harder some times than others. And hardest of all when you live alone. That's my theory. You may feel free to disagree.
• My local ABC affiliate preempted last week's "Pushing Daisies" to air an Oak Ridge Boys Christmas special. I did not know this until I sat down to watch it a couple of nights ago (I had recorded it, and was even staying spoiler-free by not reading the TWoP recap). WTF? You bastards, just because it's been cancelled doesn't mean that some of us don't want to savor every little scrap that's left! Argh.
• We've had a couple of read-through/walk-throughs for the play, and now we adjourn until after the holidays. I think it's a great cast, and is going to be great fun.
• I saw the dog formerly known as Wiley the Terrible (while at the aforementioned birthday party) and he pretended that he still remembered me. Maybe he still does (which Julie his owner insists must be true). And maybe I'm just the only fool sticking my head in his face and encouraging him to kiss me. Heh.
• My boss is in love. With the sweet tabby kitty mentioned in the last post. IN LOVE. He can't take him home for fear of upsetting his wife and their two snippy female cats, but he's quite smitten. He even gave him a work-related name, similar to the one given to the Cat Formerly Known as Lil Mama. It's very funny. He's not been around cats much previously, and he didn't have any idea they could be so affectionate. ("He's like a dog!") The one good thing about having [scary number redacted] cats is that you really get to experience the full spectrum of cat personalities. They're so...varied.
• I've been dreaming about some of my past pets lately. I think this may be because the current commercial for "Befreze" candles features a dog that is the spitting image (actually, no...it's the mirror image) of the first dog I had as an "adult." (I was in college when I got her, so...technically a grown-up, but....) Mo lived a good, long life and was maybe the smartest, funniest dog in history. The BFF insists that she had extra facial muscles, 'cause she could pull a look like no other dog ever could. Anyway, if you see the fuzzy black-and-white terrier mix in the "Befreze" candle commercial...I think they somehow cloned my dead dog! And I want her back!
• The Cat Formerly Known, etc. is QUITE put out by the new kitty, by the way. He's invaded HER turf, and she is not happy. I've tried to reassure her that she is still the alpha, and right now she's sleeping peacefully on my desk, but...there has been some hissing and spitting. Keeps the work day lively!
• Today is the one-year anniversary of the Great Ice Storm of Ought-Seven. Man, oh man, keep that icy stuff away from us this year, please. Our trees can't take another hit like that. Not to mention our psyches.
• I think we've decided to keep the gift-giving in my family limited to small, stocking stuffer things. My suggestion, actually. Since we'd pretty much devolved into a wholesale gift card exchange, anyway...what the heck. Keep your money and buy yourself something, if you want. I'd like to tuck my Christmas bonus away into savings this year, personally. (What's left after I neuter Pete the Kitten, that is.) This economy worries me.
• I haven't heard a peep from the Male Me. I really can't figure him out. Gah. And I know, if I give in and call him, that he will return the call promptly and act like talking to me is the most fun thing ever. He just never INITIATES the call. What's that about?
• My Christmas cacti are starting to bloom. Right on schedule.
• Knowing that my books are once again shelved alphabetically is very comforting to me. Probably TOO comforting. But sometimes giving in to the OCD just feels nice. Like when I occasionally grab some paper towels and let myself scrub the dried soap dribbles off the sink in a public restroom--aahhhh. Better. (I only do this in PRIVATE public restrooms. Can't let anyone else see the extent of the crazy!)
• I've been missing New Guy a lot lately. Which is sort of ironic, since we NEVER spent any holidays together--he was always off with his kids. But I guess I knew the trip would end, and then he'd come back, and now? This particular trip isn't going to end. I suppose that's why I'm sad. Sigh.
• I really should wrap this up (are you still reading? good for you), and I refuse to end on that sad note, so...I woke up this morning to find Pete the Kitten snuggling next to me on the bed. It's the first time that's happened--he generally prefers the company of the other cats, so...yay! Not that I NEED another cat on the bed, but maybe there's hope for his socialization yet.

Congratulations! You made it through the drivel. Don't let anyone tell you you haven't accomplished something today. Hee.

This five-day week is crawling.

Shouldn't it be time for a weekend already? Sigh.

Sorry to end the last post on a downer note, but...sometimes it just is what it is. I mean, I loves me a four-day weekend, and it's always good to be pleasantly busy while not feeling overloaded, and some alone time is a good and necessary thing, but...sometimes I want to go out to eat or crash on the couch WITH somebody. A special somebody, you know? In some ways it's particularly hard to be single during the holidays, especially when you've reached the age where the vast majority of your friends are encoupled, or have children, or both. You can't just call someone up to do something on the spur of the moment when their lives are necessarily complicated by the schedules of others. So...it is what it is. I'm used to it, but sometimes it makes me a little sad, and last weekend was one of those times. Moving on...

No news to report on the dating front. The Male Me has me completely confused. We still haven't met, and I'm not sure why. When we do talk, said conversations generally instigated by me, we have very lively discussions, he tells me how great he thinks I am, says he wants to get together/talk again soon....and then I don't hear from him for a few days. I know he's dealing with an ailing mother and a new job, but I can't help but think that if he REALLY wanted to meet, it would have happened by now. So, for now at least, I think I need to cross him off the list of possibilities.

I still have sporadic contact with Obama Guy, but I just don't get the feeling there's any romantic possibility there. He did offer to make me dinner at his house some night soon, but...I think we'll just be political buddies. And even if I was feeling overwhelming romantic chemistry, his work/school schedule is a bit insane. I'm not sure when we'd ever see each other. Plus he wants to move to another part of the country when he finishes school in a few months, and I'll be damned if I'll get emotionally attached again to a guy who's not sticking around.

Of course, I could wink back at the ultra-conservative guy with bad grammar and spelling who used to enjoy spending time with "friends and family but lost them and i am left all alone. No drama here and not looking for it." What does that mean, exactly? He lost ALL of his friends and family? Dude, what did you DO? I think that's a "no, thanks" for me.

We had our first rehearsal for the play last night, and I think it's going to be great fun. Unfortunately (for me, at least), we're not really getting into rehearsals until after the holidays, but it's something to look forward to. Which I am.

My workplace, like my home, is being taken over by stray cats. Turns out if you cut a couple of kitty doors for your official work cat, word gets out and soon you have plenty of unofficial cats roaming your warehouse, as well. Most of them are just neighborhood opportunists, I think, looking for a free meal. One big orange fellow is pretty much a fixture--he's definitely wild, and possibly a littermate of the kitty formerly known as Lil' Mama, who now has a work-related name that I won't reveal here. And two days ago a stray showed up who is breaking my heart. He is the SWEETEST THING EVER, a big brown tabby with comically large feet, and I MUST FIND HIM A REAL HOME. THAT ISN'T MINE. Anyone interested? I'll tie a big bow around his neck and everything. Heh.

Lazy post-Thanksgiving post

I know that over-reliance on bulleted lists is a sure sign of a lazy, unmotivated blogger. So, here we go!

How I spent my long weekend:

• Drove to my sister's house for Thanksgiving lunch with the family. Ate too much, as per usual. Resisted taking home pie, as per usual. Had a raging craving for pie several hours later, as per usual. Pleasant, uneventful.
• Organized my bookshelves on Friday. Was in pain for two days afterwards. So many books. So much lifting and carrying. So much bending over and crouching. So much dusting and alphabetizing and...if you can believe it, actually setting aside a large number of books to be given to charity. I haven't willingly let go of a book since...well, ever. But I was completely out of shelf space, so out went most of the science fiction books from a college phase, and the "historical romance" books from junior high. All the Anne Rice--gone. (Kept the Stephen King, though.) Oh, don't worry...I still have PLENTY left to read. Heh.
• Crashed on the couch for what was left of Friday.
• Cleaned the house on Saturday morning, treated myself to an Indian lunch buffet (where one of the sharply-dressed phalanx of waiters had the great decency to at least pretend to flirt with me), and then braved a trip to Big Box Mart for $100 of essential...crap. I guess everyone else bought their crap during the potentially lethal (seriously, what is with people?) doorbuster hours, 'cause the place was the least crowded it's ever been on a Saturday afternoon. (What qualifies as "essential crap," you're asking? Cat litter, cat food, cat treats, shower curtain liner, water pitcher purification filter, motor oil, duct tape, 9v battery, cheap clunky black shoes...you know, "crap.")
• Crashed on the couch for what was left of Saturday.
• Watched both "A Diva's Christmas Carol" and "Ebbie"--thank you, Lifetime Television for Women and Gay Men! Those are my favorites!
• Made two trips per day to the office to feed/check on work cat, who repaid me by attempting to skewer my leg with her claws to keep me from leaving. Poor baby. (For the record, she has been inside ALL DAY today, basking in the glow of human companionship. Either that or a soft comfy chair.)
• Sang at church Sunday morning. Made Cute Church Guy's mother cry. (In a good way.)
• Crashed on the couch for what was left of Sunday.
• Ate leftovers.
• Was lonely.

That's all I've got, folks.