Friday, February 27, 2009

And now, a super-planned weekend.

Last weekend I had no plans--this weekend I've got nothing but.

Tonight I'll be seeing Mr. Short Term. I didn't see him last week, and actually hadn't talked to him in a couple of weeks, after I vowed to stop calling him for a while (as I was tired of always feeling like I'd interrupted him during brain surgery or something--hee), and told him if he wanted to see me, he should feel free to call. Which he did, finally, so we're getting together this evening.

Tomorrow, I'll be having lunch with the new older guy I mentioned before (the one who facebook friended me)--I'm going to refer to him as Brandon Walsh. Not because that's his name, but because his real name IS the same as a character from the original 90210, and that makes me laugh. We're going to my favorite restaurant--any bets on the sweet-and-sour test?

Tomorrow evening is the monthly readers club. I'm returning a sizable stack of books to their rightful owners--it was a good month for reading.

Sunday morning, church. I don't like to miss church during Lent. I no longer give up anything for Lent, so it seems the least I can do is make it to church regularly during that time.

Then I think my parents might come to town Sunday afternoon for a late lunch. My mother wants to, as she put it, "get out of Dodge." Heh.

Sunday evening I may or may not go to a party kicking off this year's "Fridiron" production. It's not looking like I'll be able to do the show, due to my ongoing commitment to the play that still hasn't been scheduled (I know it's not your fault, Julie, if you're reading!), but if I'm in the mood, it might be fun to go have a few beers with the rest of the folks. They're a pretty genial bunch, generally.

Now, for those of you who are my facebook friends, both Brandon Walsh and Mr. Short Term are also my friends. Bonus points if you can accurately guess who they are! (But don't mention it on my wall, please. A little discretion. Heh.)

Enjoy your own heavily or lightly scheduled weekends.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Bits and pieces and things I don't get

My "unplanned" weekend...went exactly as planned. Heh.

On Saturday, I never even got out of my pajamas. Which didn't stop me from making a couple of trips to the office to feed the kitty, or from pulling through the Sonic for a junior breakfast burrito. Of course, my "pajamas" this time of year are flannel sleep pants and a fleece pullover, so it's not as if I was cavorting around town clad in nothing but a see-through lace nightie.

I did a lot of reading, and managed to finish the hefty tome I'd been working on, "Great Captain," by Honore Morrow (a fictionalized account of Lincoln's presidency, written in the late 20s), in plenty of time to return it to its owner at the readers club meeting next weekend. I think I've polished off at least 6 books since last month's meeting. Go, me!

Sunday I went to church and the grocery store, watched Amazing Race (welcome back!) and dozed through the Oscars.

Last night I watched the presidential address, and I didn't once want to throw a heavy object through my television screen. Whoo hoo! I thought it was a very good speech, and kudos to the Republicans present for at least occasionally putting their partisanship aside and applauding along with everyone else. (It was good to see Justice Ginsberg out and about, as well. You go, girl!)

I also watched Bobby Jindal's "response" speech, and...someone needs to tell Mr. Jindal that we KNOW he's a brainy policy wonk (I may differ with his philosophy, but he's always seemed intelligent), and that folksy "Mr. Rogers talking to kindergarteners" vibe he was trying to pull off was an abject failure. " ANYthing." Cue attempt at charming smile. He came across as a total goof. You can't do folksy, Bobby! Stop trying! I suppose he's trying to out-Palin Palin, but he should play to his strengths. Or not. Keep up the good work, Mr. Jindal-MY party appreciates it. Heh.

Tell me, if you will, on what planet telling a guy to "stick it up his a**" (and yes, I used the asterisks, 'cause I'm a lady) should, in response, net you an invitation to a concert? Planet CRAZY? Yes, we're talking about Insane Guy here, who, when I took too long to respond to an email, once again told me to go jump in the river, 'cause he was tired of "being a nice guy." I replied that he wasn't being a NICE guy, he was being a PUSHY guy, and that I, too, was tired of being nice, so...stick it. I didn't expect to hear from him again, and was completely surprised when his next message was a polite invitation to attend a concert with him. WTF? Why in the world would I agree to meet someone who has twice, with very little provocation, told me to jump into an icy-cold body of water? Does he think I am Insane Girl? Sheesh. I didn't respond, and have heard no further from him.

Speaking of hearing no further, here's another thing I don't get. What in the world possesses these guys to INITIATE contact, eventually ASK YOU to meet for dinner/drinks, BEGIN the process of deciding where/when and then...disappear. It's happened again, this time with the singer I was supposed to meet, and I truly don't get it. Why bother to start something you have no intention of finishing? I refuse to believe that there's something about the way I type "Tuesday's no good for me, what about Wednesday" that is inherently repulsive. These guys are just insane. I hear it's going around.

I must have popped back up to the top of flentyofpish again, as I have been getting some new attention there. Nothing too noteworthy so far. I also have exchanged phone numbers with an older guy (60, but he swears it's a young 60) on a different site. We had started to communicate with our personal email addresses, and yesterday I got a facebook request from him. I dithered a bit, trying to decide if I should ignore it, 'cause we really don't know each other yet, blahblahblah, and finally decided that I'd go ahead and confirm, and that way I could check HIM out, as well. Well, joke's on me...he's brand-new to facebook, and so far...I'm his only friend. And now HE gets to see what I've eaten for breakfast every day for the last week?! No fair. Hee. Oh, well...I figure if I can let people I haven't seen since high school, and don't remember ever actually speaking to, see what I'm up to, what's one more virtual stranger checking in, really? I'm not ashamed of my untraditional breakfast choices, after all.

Last night I called New Guy. I was planning to wish him Happy Mardi Gras (he's a Louisiana boy, remember), and suggest that if he needed to give up something for Lent, he could try giving up hurting my feelings by not returning my phone calls in a timely manner. Well, thank goodness he answered before I could leave my snarky message. Turns out he's in Louisiana right now...his mother died. I'm so sad for him, and SO glad he didn't have to hear my snarkiness at this particular moment. (Of course, he SHOULD have called me back right away, but...he's off the hook this time.)

I'm trying to decide if I want to go to the big church downtown at noon for my Ash Wednesday ashes, or go to my little church tonight. Remember how last year the priest preached on and on and on, and then gave me the ash cross to top all ash crosses? No? You don't remember every single thing I've ever blogged about? Shame on you. Heh.

Friday, February 20, 2009


First off, a big "job well done" to -r-, and the Blogshare 4.0 participants. Wasn't that fun? I had no idea so many people enjoy watching dogs poop. I thought it was just me. Hee. (Edited to add that I'm NOT saying that was my post! Actually, I'm saying it was NOT my post.) Next time maybe we can all discuss that crinkly thing that happens to a cat's face just before a yawn. (It's so cute!)

I never got around to my post in defense of Jessica Simpson, did I? So, let me just say this: step off. So, she ate a few cheeseburgers and "ballooned" up to a whopping size 8. Who cares? She's curvy. It's refreshing. If she's happy, who else has a right to weigh in (so to speak)? So, stop picking on her weight gain. There are PLENTY of other reasons to pick on Ms. Simpson--her "fashion" choices, her creepy dad, those weird Joe Cocker-like faces she makes when she sings. Get busy on those.

Michael Phelps. Come ON. A twenty-something kid takes a bong hit at a party. That's newsworthy? Really? I've got to tell you...if he can take the occasional toke and STILL be motivated to swim 63,000 miles a day, hat's off to you, Mr. Phelps. Most people just sit on the couch and eat when they're stoned. Or so I've heard. Ahem.

I've been changing my Facebook status this week to reflect what I'm eating for breakfast each day and, you know what? People actually seem to find it funny. Maybe it's because I eat very non-typical breakfasts, but one of my friends told me she actually thought to herself this morning "I wonder what Liz will have for breakfast today?" This cracks me up. And puts me under intense pressure. Got to keep the breakfasts interesting--don't want to lose my readership. Ha!

So far I still wouldn't say the the aforementioned Facebook has changed my life, but it has been fun reconnecting with some of my old friends. And I now have an open invitation to stay in a guest room if I want to come to New York City. Which I do, very much. Got to find a way to make that happen soon...

I've also been involved in my first Facebook kerfuffle. There was a discussion thread started by one of my old high school band classmates. It was kind of fun at first, but then it just got annoying. Mostly because of one person. I disliked this guy in high school, loathed him for the short while we were in college together, and could have lived my entire life without ever hearing his name again. We didn't "friend" each other, but because we were both tagged in this thread, I kept getting endless notification emails with his name in them, and it was making me insane. (I was not the only one, either.) So a couple of us tried very politely to suggest that perhaps an official group should be formed, and that way anyone who wanted to continue the discussion could do so on the group wall, and spare us all the dozens of daily notification emails. Well, you'd have thought we told them their babies were ugly. "If you don't like it, just hit delete!" I finally had enough and got a wee bit ugly myself. "Stop this thread and start a new one without those of us who've asked for it to stop!" I mean, for pete's sake, why would you want to continue to annoy someone who's asked nicely to be left out of the conversation? Well, I was "unfriended" by a couple of the most active participants in the discussion thread, and I couldn't be happier. I barely remembered them anyway--I only "confirmed" to be nice. That'll teach me.

Speaking of people I barely remember, I was also friended by someone from my high school whose name sounds familiar, whose face seems a bit familiar, and with whom I have several mutual Facebook friends. He's sent me a few friendly messages, and I've responded politely, but for the life of me I can't put this guy into any actual context of memory. I feel like I should know him, but I can't remember ever actually speaking to him. Am I getting early onset Alzheimer's? Or am I being punk'd? Hmmm...

Sarah Palin. She owes $18,000 in back taxes. Where is the outcry from the conservatives? Nary a peep. Personally, the unpaid taxes don't outrage me nearly as much as the "income" on which the taxes are owed. She charges the state of Alaska for every day she spends at her own house in Wasilla, instead of in the state capital. Who does that? What other state allows that? Presumably, she knew the capital was in Juneau when she campaigned for the job. Okay, strike that. Maybe she didn't know. Geography's not her strong suit. But she should have known, and the state of Alaska shouldn't be paying because she insists on living in Wasilla! Sheesh.

So, what else....

Is there dating news? Nothing of note, really. I haven't talked to Mr. Short Term since last weekend, when I told him I was going to stop calling during the week, as I never seemed to reach him at a convenient time, and it was becoming hard not to take his brusque reception personally. I told him he was welcome to call me any time, so...we'll see, I guess. Heh. The hot and heavy email relationship with Mr. Not Quite Divorced continues unabated. Sad, that my pen pal relationship with him is more gratifying than many actual dates I've been on this year. I may be having dinner some time soon with a gospel/R&B singer a bit older than me, though we seem to be having some trouble making the actual arrangements. (This happens frequently with flentyofpish guys, and seemingly only with flentyofpish guys. They lack follow-through. Hmm...) I'm still hearing occasionally from Insane Guy, as well. He wants a girlfriend so bad he can't stand it. It's off-putting, and he doesn't seem to get that. I might have to block him at some point, when I no longer find the insanity somewhat diverting.

For the first time in a while, I have absolutely no plans for the weekend. I can't decide if this is good or bad. On the plus side...a lot of free time to nap and putter around the house. On the minus side...tomorrow is the anniversary of a day I don't like to remember, and it might be better if I was busy. (Sorry to be cryptic--it's not something I want to talk about.) But, hey--I do have a HUGE stack of books I'm working my way through, and it would be great to finish up my current read before next week's readers club, so perhaps literature will be my salvation. (And not for the first time. Heh.) I'll let you know how it works out.

Have good weekends, yourselves...whether you have plans or not.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009


I'm supposed to write something torrid. I'm supposed to write something scandalous. I'm supposed to tell you my deep, dark secrets and say all the things that I never could. That's what I'm supposed to do. But here's the thing. My life doesn't suck. It could be so much worse.

This is not to say I haven't had some crappy things in my life. I grew up in a religion that restricting my very being. By being a woman I was less than. I was molested by my grandfather at the age of 10. My husband and my aunt are the only ones that know. That same grandparent was awful to my parents in every single way. And I have born the that along with what else he inflicted upon me and them. My family left the religion we were in when I was 16. They moved away and left me to live with my grandparents. The SAME grandfather. I slept with a locked door every night. I was the one that bore the brunt of the ridicule and the accusations and the shunning of people that were supposed to be my friends. They mocked me, the put me down, they literally turned their backs on me. At school I was ignored at best. And that's when I wasn't being bullied. In response to these things I have become sharp, sometimes hard and occasionally mean. I'm impatient. I'm not who I can and should be.

But this weekend I spent my time with my family. My husband, my SIL and her family and my immediate family. And the love that I have in my life overshadows anything else that I have experienced. My sisters (blood and in-law) are my best friends. They would do anything for me. My brothers are good, strong men and are always there. My parents are kind, supportive and the voice of reason. And my husband? He is my life. My love. My BFF. He is everything I need and nothing I ever expected. And yesterday I stopped taking birth control. There's my secret. No one knows that.

My life is good. It is beautiful. There are many things I could focus to show how not so good it has been but I can't. I won't. Not anymore. I'm letting it all go. I'm embracing my beautiful, wonderful life for all it is and I'm living it. To the fullest.

It's Blogshare Day!

Here's a list of the participants. I will follow this post immediately with the anonypost being featured here today. Enjoy!

And You Know What Else
Andrea Unplugged
Blue Soup
Bright Yellow World
Caity of the Keps
Daily Tannenbaum
Did I Say That Outloud?
Dispatches From The Failed Mommy Club
Face Down
For The Long Run
Full Of Snark
In Java, Literally
Just Below 63
A New Duck
NonSoccer Mom
The North Is My Snowcone
Not The Daddy
Operation Pink Herring
Pants, Pants, Pants
Red Red Whine
Sassy Buster
Sauntering Soul
Shushing Action
Snow-Covered Hills
Swimming With Sharks
Thinking Some More
Trueish Story
Way Way Up
Whiskey Marie

Monday, February 16, 2009

And, in other news, Nathan has an itchy rash!

It's almost here--that internet phenomenon known as Blogshare! If you're unfamiliar with the concept, this is the brainchild of the lovely and talented -R-, wherein bloggers across the 'sphere publish posts written anonymously by different bloggers. So, on Wednesday, you will find an anonypost here, and my own anonymous ramblings will be pushlished elsewhere. Where? I'm not saying. You'll have to try and guess. A list of participating blogs will be published along with the posts, so you can spend an entire day reading what will undoubtedly be a whole bunch of funny, sad, heartrending, ridiculous "confessions."

I spent Valentine's Day in the most pathetic way possible, on the face of it. I had lunch with my middle-aged cat lady friends, and dinner with the "Nensa" nerds. It's almost poetic, isn't it? (Though, I must say, it was the most enjoyable "Nensa" meeting I've of the members was on "Peojardy" a couple of months ago, and she talked about the audition process before we watched a tape of her episode. I now have a new goal in life--I want to be on "Peojardy," too.)

Strangely, I got more chocolates this year than one person really needs. From: the owner of the company I work for (it's a tradition), my direct boss, her son (I'm guessing--they were left on my desk while I was out Friday afternoon, and he often adds to his mom's contribution), and two of my cat lady friends. A nice haul! Including an old-fashioned candy lipstick. I didn't know they still made those. I mean...don't today's young girls start troweling on the makeup like little prostitutes at an early age, leaving no need for candy beauty products? Heh.

I had lunch yesterday with Mr. Short Term. (Calm down--it's no more serious than it ever was.) And to prove it, I'm email chatting with a few different guys, as well. One of whom is, I believe, clinically insane. Good thing he doesn't have my real name or number. One other of whom I believe I've mentioned before--the nice guy still not quite divorced. The two of us are having quite an extended, enjoyable email relationship. We've exchanged over 100 messages in the last three weeks or so, and we've even tackled religion and politics without pissing each other off. No plans to meet, or anything...I think at this point he just needs someone to talk to, as he navigates the tricky field of returning to the dating world. A world he never really inhabited, actually...he married the third girl he dated, and the first girl he went out with more than twice. To someone who's been dating since the Reagan administration without ever making it down the aisle, that's Anyway, I enjoy talking to him. He's very articulate and well-spoken. (Well-typed?)

And who's this Nathan, I hear you asking? Oh, just some poor shlub who called a wrong number early this morning (mine), and left a detailed message for his employer on the machine. A "work-related" rash requiring a visit this morning to the dermatologist? And co-worker "Chris" is having the same symtoms? Hmm.... Fortunately, he left a number, so I was able to call him back and let him know his message went awry. Didn't want the poor guy to be fired, after all. Isn't an itchy rash on a Monday morning enough to deal with? He seemed a bit embarrassed. I would, too, if I'd just told a total stranger the details of my dermatological private life.

And with that, I'm off to scratch my own rash. Or, you know, do some work. Whichever.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

It's official.

Facebook is done. Uncool. On its way out.

By which I mean to say that MY PARENTS "friended" me yesterday. And I had to "confirm," of course...can't "ignore" the parents as they try to be all cool and hip. I knew trouble might be brewing when one of my aunts friended me a while back...and then my brother apparently said something to my mother about a facebook interaction we'd had.

Mom: "What is this facebook?"

Me: Oh, it's just a silly social networking wouldn't like it.

Nice try, no cigar.

Okay, so we're "friends." Now I just have to hope that nobody Michael Phelpses me and posts a picture showing me taking a hit from a bong at a party. Not that anyone could, of course...there are no pictures of me doing something that I never did in my whole life!

Now I just have to remember that my parents can see my wall. Thank god they still don't know about the blog. Fingers crossed...

Monday, February 09, 2009

4,367 reasons why it sometimes sucks to live alone

I did my semi-annual "purging of no-longer-edible food items" yesterday. (Instead of going to church. Cleanliness is next to godliness, right?) I cleaned out the refrigerator and the pantry. They weren't in horrible shape, truthfully; I made a resolution the last time I moved that I would never let the new refrigerator get all that bad, and I've mostly kept it. There were only a couple of "mystery" tupperware containers to be cleaned out.

Still, though...there were the half-empty jar of mayonnaise, the nearly empty jars of mysterious pickled things, the half-dozen half-empty bottles of salad dressing purchased in my ongoing attempt to find JUST the right one. The carton of rice milk I never quite finished before it went bad--which complemented nicely the box of organic raisin bran I never quite finished, either. A couple of boxes of crackers, going nicely stale. (Those go to the birds, of course.) I don't know why I buy those individual packs of crackers in BULK, either--who am I kidding? Oh sure, they're cheaper that way--but not if you end up throwing the last half of them away.

And then there were the 4,367 little packets of parmesan cheese and peppers from the carryout pizza place between work and home. I didn't really count them, of course...but that's a pretty close approximation. I'm a little embarrassed by how many there were--although it completely explains why, when I pull into the drive-thru, the workers holler out the window, "Hello, Miss Liz!" Heh. There seemed to be an equal number of little packs of Captain's Wafers, thoughtfully provided when I order a side salad to go with my pizza/pasta/garlic bread/nachos, etc. Except I don't LIKE crackers WITH my side salad, so into the pantry they go, since I feel guilty about throwing them out.

I didn't throw them out yesterday, either...I painstakingly opened each tiny little plastic package, and took the resulting banquet outside for the birds. The starlings and sparrows were much appreciative. The mean old mockingbird took a few, scattering the starlings and sparrows each time he made a pass. There was a plucky squirrel vying for crumbs. And one disinterested robin walked nearby, looking disdainfully at the crackers and shouting "Where's the BEEF? I WORM?" I freshened up the water in the birdbath, and they all took a post-brunch dip, completely ignoring my warnings to wait an hour after eating to swim! You'll get a cramp!

Yes, I realize that I sound completely insane. I didn't really shout at the birds. Not OUT LOUD, anyway.

And my point? Food should come in smaller packages for single people. Yeah, yeah...I know it does, sometimes...but it's not CHEAPER to buy it that way. It should come in smaller packages AND be correspondingly cheaper. It's only fair.

So, what else went on this weekend? Another pleasant date with Mr. Short Term. (Thai food this time. We are perfect dining companions.) Some beautiful, beautiful weather. We had our monthly women's drunken potluck last night, and I wore sandals and sat outside. At the same time. Lovely.

Perhaps tomorrow I'll come to the defense of Jessica Simpson (I know!) and Michael Phelps, but for now I'm going to leave you.

Interview questions have been sent today to flurrious and greenduckiesgirl, so you'll want to check that out, I'm sure. I sent some of the same questions to them both, because I am lazy...I mean, because I want to get their different takes on them, of course. That's the ticket. I'm sure they will make my silly questions into very funny reading.

Wednesday, February 04, 2009

Some questions. Plus one more word.

I ran into a friend at the vet yesterday (me, cat with bladder infection, her, cat with digestive upset) and she said, "Oh...I've been thinking about your one word. Regal." I like it. (I feel I don't need to tell you what category of friend she falls into. Hee.)

And now, I have been agreed to be interviewed by the "smarticulate" (that was my made-up word for HER) Stefanie. We both remember that we've done this before, but hey...friends can never ask too many questions of friends, right?

Some of her questions are hard. (Gee...just because she had to hypothetically limit herself to one kind of cheese. Heh.) I have chosen to highlight the questions in purple, 'cause I'm all REGAL and shit.

1. I know you have more than one tattoo. I also know that many people find tattoos addictive. Are you done now, or do you have more body art in mind? If you HAD to get another tattoo tomorrow, what would you get and where would you place it?

Well, tattoos most definitely ARE addictive, and I'm definitely not done. But I think long and hard about them first (as everyone should--they're permanent, you know!), and if I could decide what I'd get and where, well...I'd probably have another already. Hee. I will probably go with somewhere on the upper body--arm or shoulder, as they seem to heal more quickly than those on the legs or ankles. I have thought about adding another Cherokee word (but WHAT word?)...or maybe I should go with something to honor the Scottish ancestry I have, as well. Occasionally I think I should just get pawprints--the critters walk all over me, anyway. Suggestions?

2. We all know you've got a thing about ugly hands and about sweet & sour pork. What are some other dating deal-breakers for you?

Let's see..bad grammar, of course. I don't think I'd go out again with someone who was deliberately rude to the waitstaff. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be comfortable dating someone who has hunting "trophies" as part of his decor. His laugh shouldn't make me want to stab my fork into my eardrums. And let's face neocons.

3. If you could go back and re-live any one day in your life thus far, which day would you choose?

This may be silly, but I really wouldn't mind re-living the day I won Miss Sparkler 1986. That's a mock "beauty pageant" that used to be (unofficially) conducted in conjunction with the outdoor theatre I worked at for several summers. It was held on the 4th of July (naturally) and was hands-down, balls-out the most hilarious part of the summer. The competition was FIERCE. The beers consumed during the pageant were numerous. I've got some pictures somewhere...I'll have to try and find them and see if someone can scan them for me. My "evening gown" was a shoe. A 5'9" tall black, high-heeled shoe. My body was the heel. We worked so hard (there was one representative for each dressing room)--winning was a total high. Especially since I was but a lowly "Villager" (sort of a glorified extra), and no villager had ever won. You got a crown and a cape to wear around for the rest of the summer, any time you chose to lord it over your vanquished competitors. Like I said...silliness. Glorious silliness.

4. Lucky girl! You get to have dinner tomorrow night with Leonard Nimoy or Jon Stewart. Which one will you pick, and what do you want to ask him?

Proof positive that Stefanie secretly hates me? Okay, okay...if I MUST choose...right at this particular time in history I would choose Jon. It's just such an interesting time in politics right now, and I would LOVE to get his take on all the craziness. Then I would like to have Leonard for dessert, please.

5. You've mentioned several times your undisclosed number of cats. Would you rather have double that number, or no cats at all? What if I changed it to triple that number? Is there a number at which you'd simply say, "No more! No cats at all!"?

Oh, goodness! I don't think I could physically/emotionally/logistically/financially handle 2 or 3 times my current number of cats. Unless I win the lottery, and could open that no-kill homeless animal ranch I've always dreamed of, and hire a staff to help me. I believe my current (undisclosed) number IS the number at which I say, "No more! Other than these already here!" Of course, I think I've said that before, at smaller numbers, but...I think I really mean it this time.

Okay, that was fun! Except for the part where I had to give up dinner with Leonard Nimoy.

I think I'm supposed to turn around and offer to interview anyone else who'd like the honor, so...let me know in the comments if you would.

Monday, February 02, 2009

I have great friends.

If you've read Stefanie's latest post, you know all about the "one word" email game. Shall I share with you the nice things my friends said about me? (Those that bothered to reply, of course. Heh. And if you're reading this and you didn't get said "one word" email from me, it's because I don't have your email address, not because I don't love you and want to know your one word opinion of me, so feel free to leave a word in the comments if you like.)

I deliberately sent to a broad cross-section of my acquaintances (theatre/music friends, animal rescue friends, online friends, former co-worker friends, women's potluck friends) to see if there seemed to be any differences in perception of me from group to group. Answer? None that I can see. What do you think? (And I'm not sure why I'm separating out my former co-workers from my artsy friends, since we worked together at an arts organization, but for this purpose, I am. For that matter, a couple of them would fall into the animal category, too...)

1. wry (former employer) (and which at first glance I read to be "why" and was confused)
2. talented (online)
3. compassionate (online)
4. cat-lady, talented, underappreciated, experience-rich (online friend who had difficulty choosing just one and/or deciding if hyphens were okay--hee!)
5. songstress (former co-worker)
6. tenderhearted (this is sort of a hybrid artsy/online/animal person--we have met in person, but only a couple of times)
7. clever (theatre)
8. multifaceted (animal)
9. unique (animal)
10. cougar! (theatre--punctuation his)
11. awesome (online)
12. intellectual, exuberant, kindhearted (another online friend who felt constrained by the "one" word--hee)
13. mysterious (former co-worker)
14. interesting (online)
15. heartless bitch (music friend--clearly meant to be a joke, retracted as "too many words" and replaced with "vegan." My friends, they are funny!)
16. optimistic (women's group)
17. SASSY! (theatre, capitalization and punctuation his)

It's kind of a fun game. You should all try it.

What else did I do this weekend?

Went to a party Friday night, chilled out with some beer and homemade soup, made plans for lunch the next day with fellow partygoers.

Saturday I cleaned the house, had lunch at the Indian buffet with aforementioned friends, made a trip to Big Box Mart, where I believe I was caught up in White Trash Pride Day, and stood in a long cashier's line with the Queen of said festival. Or maybe she was the Grand Marshall of the parade. At any rate, she was a poet. Consider this gem, said to someone on the other end of her cell phone, after she berated them for making plans to go out that night and "leave her all alone":

So? So...ho, ho
Take yourself to Mexico.
While you're there,
Curl your hair
And don't forget your underwear.

That might be paraphrased a bit, but it's pretty close. Hee.

I did not see Mr. Short Term, as he was out-of-town, but we did talk on the phone, and work out some soon-to-be hurt feelings on my part. He has a bad habit of answering the phone each time I call, and/or calling me right back before I can leave a voice mail, even if it is the MOST inconvenient time for him to talk. Then he's very short with me on the phone, and it was starting to make me feel like a total pest. He apologized, said it was unintentional, and he would try to be more aware. Apology accepted. We agreed that no offense will ever be taken on either side by being sent to voice mail. That's what it's for, after all. He wants to buy me a copy of his favorite health-related book. Mmm...okay. I'm a reader. (And he loves that about me.)

I hate to say this, for those of you still harboring hope in this area, seems Cute Church Guy may have moved out-of-town. There goes my Sunday morning eye candy!

And that was pretty much my weekend. Ooh...except I bought some cheap black boots at the White Trash Festival. They make me feel like Olive Oyl. Heh.