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smell the glove 2001-05-30 I really hate thunderstorms. I didn't used to hate them, but now that I live in an area of the country where thunderstorms are potential spawners of tornadoes, I hate them, because they scare me. And truthfully, until you've been through a thunderstorm in the south (or midwest, probably), you don't know from thunderstorms. I remember the first southern thunderstorm I experienced. It was during the first week Francisco and I lived in Alabama (we were there for one year), and it was quite a welcoming committee. It was a nighttime storm. Lightning was striking just about every second, so of course the thunder was deafening. Here is how major that storm was--the electricity in the air TURNED ON MY RADIO. I am Not lying. I got no sleep at all that night, and I still sleep very poorly during thunderstorms, mostly because every big thunderclap wakes me up and makes my heart pump so hard from the adrenalin that I worry I will have a heart attack. It's funny though; the Boy can sleep through the very worst thunderstorms. He sleeps through thunder that shakes the whole house with its intensity and has my heart doing the lambada. Sometimes I worry about when he's an adult, living on his own, because what if his smoke alarm goes off while he's asleep? He would never in a million years hear it. I think he should definitely get a dog if he's going to live alone. A big dog who will rouse him if need be. I had an open-faced toast sandwich this morning for breakfast, as did Francisco. He is becoming resigned to the open-faced sandwich thing; something which gives me great joy. For lunch I have consumed a bit of chicken salad and some baked beans. I also have a mango with me but I am not hungry for it now, so it will be a snack later this afternoon. Riveting, isn't it. I worked more on the closet last night and it is just about done. I still have a lot of clothes to wash, but that will get done in stages. During the closet project I have come across some clothes that are new and still have the tags on them. One thing was a cute zip-up sweater vest I got as a gift and that never fit. It is a medium/petite, but I'm not sure who could possibly wear it, since a size 2 coworker tried it on and it was too small. The other thing is a skirt I bought from the Gap without trying it on, because I had tried it on (same size) when it was full price so I didn't think I needed to try it on when it was on sale. And of course the one I bought was too small, so I have never worn it but didn't return it because I thought I would eventually be skinny enough to wear it. Yeah, well, that hasn't happened yet. Rather than have it sit around in the closet for another eon, I gave it to a co-worker today, and I feel quite good about that. Partly because it is cute and she likes it and it will actually be worn, but mostly because she is like a size 3, and the skirt is only a little big on her, which validates my belief that the skirt was never actually a real size 8 like the tag said, because the full-price one I tried on was an 8 and it fit fine. That was when I still had a metabolism, just so you know. I am determined to wear that size again, but I really can't predict how long it will take me to get there, because it is slow going. Boy is spending the night at a friend's house on Friday, and Francisco and I will be seeing a movie. We're thinking about Memento. Is there any reason we Shouldn't see this movie? I bought a new tattoo magazine this weekend--the most recent International Tattoo. Can I just say how much I love that magazine? It is by far the best tattoo magazine, in my opinion. And I guess I mean it's the best one published and distributed in the U.S., because maybe there are better ones in other countries, but I wouldn't know. If you ever want to buy a tattoo magazine, please; get International Tattoo. You won't be sorry. Something is biting me. This building apparently is infested with some kind of biting bugs, because I'm not the only one getting bites. I like my new office, with its big windows and general largeness, but I could do without the bug bites. This morning I had a dream about Greg M--remember him? Anyway, I dreamed I was back in high school or something and he was there and he was becoming increasingly vague and spacy. I figured out that the basketball coach (Greg played basketball, baseball, and ran cross-country in high school) was giving him some kind of performance-enhancing drugs that were wrecking his brain. I was trying to expose the coach's actions and rescue Greg from the school but I was having a lot of trouble, and I woke up before I could do either thing. Frustrating but kind of a cool dream anyway. It is very silly for me to still be having dreams about this guy, but whattaya gonna do? The brain is a mysterious entity. I have delighted you enough for today. Love,
come over some time & see me - 2011-02-25 |
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