Various and Sundry

I've been feeling a bit tongue-tied lately, which goes without saying, I guess. I hadn't realized it had been two weeks since I updated; I've been remaining blissfully ignorant of all things waterlilies.

And truthfully, when I don't update, it's usually because nothing interesting is going on in my world anyway, and unless you really want to hear about my 10-hour days (which I don't generally talk about, since they relate to work), you don't want to know anyway.

The short version:

We've been hanging out with our cool neighbors a decent amount lately. Two weekends ago, we got to play with their Holgaroid camera setup. We took some super-cool crazy pictures that I alternately love and hate. I'd post a few of them, but I'm afraid someone would petition to have me forcibly committed.

C and I saw The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King finally. It's a brilliant movie, of course, but very intense. I have this inner geek that I've buried and hidden deep within my psyche, but secretly? She'd love to learn Elvish.

C and I (and the cool neighbors) went to a State of the Union Address party, complete with the 2004 State of the Union drinking game last Tuesday. I counted something like 89 drink cues, many of which required two or three drinks. Luckily, I'd made my wine into a spritzer, but nevertheless, Wednesday was a bit painful. You'd think I had learned my lesson last time we were out with the cool neighbors.

In other news, I learned on Sunday that if you let your journal languish long enough (almost two weeks seems to be the magic number for me), random readers will come out of the woodwork and ask you out. I've never been asked out by a random reader before, so either you're all a bunch of slackers or said reader is a Potentially Wacko Stalker. I'm not entirely sure which is true in this case, but this guy seems reasonably non-wacko, which leads me to believe that the rest of you are just a bunch of slackers.

He's waiting for word from me about where I'd like to go, but I don't think I've actually said 'yes' to the offer of a date yet. I feel a bit as though I should make him prove himself before I agree to go out with this guy. I could require him to submit his full name and date and place of birth, so that I can run a criminal background check and let Kramer run a full astrological profile. I could subject him to a battery of questions from my friends. I could make him hold a serious conversation with my dad. (Good lord. I mean, Hi Dad.) But how much should a guy really have to do to earn a date with some silly internet girl who he only knows from her photos and written words? I welcome responses, of course, but keep in mind that PWS is reading.

It was nice weather this morning, and I'm still under the mistaken impression that Mondays are good days to demonstrate resolve, so I walked to work. It was chilly and cold, and I left the house at about 7:40, which put me to work around 8:20, which is really no later than usual. I love that walk for its ability to generate quiet time and a way to think. I tend to generate journal entries in my head when I walk to work, which is why I always seem to write about it.

Today's walk took me past the busy intersection where people moved frenetically on their way to work; past the victory garden that I'm so jealous of, which has vegetables growing in mid-January; past an apartment complex where the pungent odor of pot wafted out the window (I don't know about you, but in my world, 8am is a bit early for pot); past the bakery with heavenly smell of bread; past the taco shack where I stopped to get my usual: a potato and egg taco; past the school where children run inside, eager to start their day; past the churches whose spires and steeples touched the brilliant blue sky.

And then home again after work, racing the sunset this time. It's a dangerous walk in the dark, but the days are lengthening a bit, and I made it home after the sun set but before night fell.

That was my day; how was yours?