happy, oddly

Middle of the afternoon, sitting in my bed, writing. At 11:30 this morning Julie texted me from downstairs, waking me, with, "You want -ancakes and coffee?" (The "p" is broken on her phone.) I said yes. It couldn't have been more wonderful.

It's almost April, and it's snowing hard outside—the grass has just recently disappeared beneath the blanket of what "they're" saying will be five to nine inches before evening falls.

My roommate is downstairs vacuuming and listening to Coldplay, and my cat is curled up next to me in such a way that makes it difficult to type. I just glanced up and out the window and something about the swirling snow and the strangeness of it all just hit me and I, for some reason, cannot get over the beauty of it all.

It just all feels wild and chaotic, which have become two of my favorite words in the past week, for reasons way more beautiful than anything I could ever describe with mere words.

she's just lookin' out for me

Monday night I was sharing a chair with Cari at a cookout. She'd finished eating, but I was still shoveling food into my mouth, balancing my styrofoam plate on my knee while I balanced on half a chair with this girl.



Still not full, I announced, "I'm going to get refills." I had to announce that to Cari because if I'd gotten up from this oddly-balanced chair without telling her first, she'd have fallen right off. So I got up, filled my plate with a second helping of pasta salad and a strawberry.

While I was in the kitchen, Val pointed at a cake, a very heavenly-looking chocolate cake, and told me I needed to have some. Well, see, I gave up sweets for Lent (still not sure why I've taken to giving things up for Lent, but that's another story), so I simply stood there silently staring at it. Finally I decided, "Yes. I need to have some." So I cut a piece in half and put half a piece of cake on my plate.

Back in the living room I sat back down on the chair with Cari, who said, "Are you sure I shouldn't find my own chair?" "We're fine," I said. Then looking at Jordanne (who was staring at the cake on my plate) I said, "I know. I gave this up for Lent. But whatever." Because whatever is always the best argument. No one can argue with whatever.

Right about that time, a child probably aged under two years dropped a toy car near Cari's foot. As she bent down to retrieve it for him, she somehow hit my precariously-balanced plate and sent it flying into the air where it did two flips and rained pasta salad, a strawberry, and a half-piece of cake onto me, the chair, and the floor.

In the split second when I was still in shock and just starting to laugh, Cari yelled at the top of her lungs without missing a beat, "YOU GAVE THAT UP FOR LENT!"

And then I almost died because I was laughing SO HARD that I couldn't breathe.

I ended up eating an entire piece of cake after all that mess.

at least it wasn't a blender

This morning I was quickly heading out the door to get to staff meeting on time. Usually my roomies and I make enough coffee for all of us, but for some reason today there wasn't any. No big deal, I thought, I'll just make a little bit while I eat a quick bowl of cereal.

I hurriedly grabbed the bag of coffee from the fridge and poured some water in the canister, sort of doing everything a little haphazardly. I poured the beans in the grinder, then plugged it in ... WITHOUT PUTTING THE LID ON FIRST.

All of a sudden there were coffee beans COVERING the entire kitchen. I just stared at it. Then couldn't stop laughing.

So I did it right the second time, and had plenty to busy myself with while it brewed: sweeping.

tighty turquoises?

Last night when I got home from work, Julie said, "Hey, check out our front door."

I checked out the front door, only to find
a) seven pairs of dirty, old athletic shoes lined up on the doorstep, and
b) a stick lodged in our mailbox with a turquoise pair of men's underpants hanging on it.

What do you call turquoise tighty whiteys? Tighty turquoises? Either way, there they were in all their blue brightness hanging by our front door. We got pranked. Who did it? We don't know. But it's dang funny.

So affected by it all as we were, we giggled and promptly forgot about it. Then this morning when I was out jogging Julie called me.

"Hey G. I just pulled away from the house and am late for work and realized I never took down the underwear. Can you get that before you leave today? I don't want to traumatize the mailman."

well hello there, elm

Eye drops? Check.
Sinus rinse? Check.
Nose spray? Check.
Claritin? Check.

But, alas, my eyes are still bright red and puffy. I'm not sure why Spring and Fall feel the need to attack the histamines in my eyes only, but they do. Today, Jon looked at me alarmed and said, "Are you ok?" Yes. Yes I am. I'm just allergic to Spring.

where my priorities are

I was just texting the word, "jog," which is 5-6-4 on T9. What word did it put up instead? "Koi."

Obviously I type, "Let's eat chicken with black bean sauce at Blue Koi," a lot more often than I type, "I need to go for a jog."

Oops.

morning

This morning I opened the window in my bedroom and sat sipping coffee. There is an amazing sound, smell, and feel to spring. The gentle chill with the promise of warmth as our street awakened reminded me of those leisurely mornings in Zeway (Ethiopia) last March. We'd eat breakfast outside and sip our macchiatos. It makes me want grilled toast and orange marmalade to complete the memory.

today

Sun! Sun! Sun!

who knew a telephone could be so entertaining

Best text message of the day:
Happy square root day! 3-3-09 - it only happens a couple times in a decade :O)

Best voicemail of the day:
Amy, I bought a mango and it's all your fault. Hope it's good.

over speakerphone

Patty: "Amy, how was your day? Did you have the day off?"

Me: "Yeah. Really good. I sat on my ass all day long."

Patty: "You had gas all day long?"

so. dang. funny.

For anyone who just insists that cats are smarter than dogs, or dogs are smarter than cats ... two videos to prove that our feline and canine friends are pretty much just as ridiculous as we humans are.