In no particular order...
-My ideal pet would be an outside bird.
-It would be nice if false hope was as entertaining in real life as it is in the clearance racks at Target.
-I've always really, really enjoyed rain. I imagine it has something to do with living in the desert, but I've generally found it refreshing and invigorating. However, this year, as I have been anxious to prep my new garden beds, something strange has happened. Every day I've had off for the last six weeks, it has rained. Digging a wet bed ruins the soil. I can't plant until the compost is dug in. Aaargh. (postscript: since I began this post, it stopped raining and the garden is planted. Pray for my poor tomatoes in my hard, clay-ey, rocky soil. They're troopers, so far. They've been in the bed for a week, and they're growing. But there's only so much you can do to improve the soil in one season with a truckload of compost and a bag full of vermiculite. The soil I want will take years to build. They have like 30 feet of topsoil in Michigan. Somebody tell me again--why do I live here? Okay, start making the list again--the mountains, my family, that little detail of a mortgage, a good job...feel free to add to the list in the comments. Should I stay or should I go? Realizing, of course, that it's all pointless, cause I ain't goin' anywhere right now. But it's fun. Here I'll go first, Marilee should move to another state because a good Mormon girl in her 30s will never meet a good single Mormon man in Utah. Come on, join in the fun!)
-On the other hand, did you noticed the lilacs this year? Exquisite!
-Does anyone really care who wins American Idol? Okay, clearly, people care. But does anyone else get the feeling that an episode of American Idol is sort of like a high school homecoming assembly on a steroidal budget? To be fair, I only watched about 45 minutes of the finale, but still. There's the tacky lighting, funny costumes, alumni who, honestly-- don't they have anything better to do? I believe that this year Coke paid for a new scoreboard back on the AI football field in exchange for placing pop machines back stage. Two words for the music world: Ray Lamontagne.
-Speaking of American Idol, I'm a little disturbed. Musically I'm not a big fan of any of them. But watching the finale, I found myself thinking that it was kind of too bad that Adam guy is not into girls. Cause he could be hot. I think it's his chin, his jaw or something. Or his mouth. Dang, the boy has a beautiful mouth. I have to remind myself that he probably has girly hands to keep me from getting carried away.
-Which brings me to this. I can't stop thinking about this one scene in Gone with the Wind (a terrible, mysoginistic film). Rhett says:"You need kissing badly. That's what's wrong with you. You should be kissed, and often, and by someone who knows how." Amen, brother. Just so you know, I'm currently taking applicants for the position. But only from single men who don't make me nauseous. Which is why, even in this job market, I fear the position may go unfilled. Which is unfortunate. I mean, I'm no Vivian Leigh, but come on! There's got to be at least one good hearted, reasonably attractive, employed, non-vomit-inducing man out there who's up to the task. If you find him, give him my phone number.
-Another comment about the whole outside bird thing: if I wasn't absolutely certain my HOA would string me up by my toes and teach it to peck my eyeballs out, I would totally get a chicken. Fresh eggs, compostable droppings. I'd like to see Mose do as much to contribute to his upkeep. (Just so you know, Joel, I really do love your dog. Especially because every time he hangs out with me, I'm reminded why I don't want a dog of my own. Thanks for that, man.)
-There was a girl at the library the other day who may have been taller than me. It's hard for me to tell, it happens so rarely. It kind of startles me when there are women as tall as me around. It's funny though, I never say anything when I run into equally tall women, because people say things to me all the time and I don't always like it. I love being tall, and I wouldn't trade an inch of my height for anything (diminished dating pool notwithstading), but I don't understand why people have to say things about it. I had no say in this, beyond my choice to wear or not wear heels (and the answer is always wear--do you know anyone who couldn't use a couple of extra inches of visual leg length? Me neither), height is predetermined. It especially bugs me when I'm in heels, which I love and can't imagine not wearing, even if they became painful and damaging to my feet. You know, if a really short guy walks in the room, I have enough sense not to ask him how tall he is (a question I've been asked by numerous strangers). And if a really tall guy walks in the room, well, I have enough sense to tell him to come sit next to me...;)
That's it for now. I'll try to get back to blogging before another six months is up. Not that it matters, because who the haitch reads anything I write on here anyway. It's just kind of fun to write again. I'm out--
