Heading to Michigan!

Back on or around August 8.

Confessions of various inadequacies:

I’m afraid of bees. (Afraid enough that I always vaguely worried about driving the convertible; would I panic if one “attacked” me while I drove and swerve off the road?)

I’ve never parallel parked, not the correct, official way. The driving test did not require it.

Bookstores are sucking creatures that settle on my neck and shoulder and draw out my blood and money.

I like the Dairy Queen strawberry shortcake blizzard. Sorry.

My dog gets away with stuff she shouldn’t because I think she’s adorable. “Now, Curie, you shouldn’t eat someone’s shoe… but, awww, sweetie, come here. You want that shoe? They won’t mind giving it to such a cute little girl!” Okay, that’s an exaggeration, but not much of one.

I prefer the sheets untucked at the foot of the bed. If they’re tucked, I untuck them before getting in. Feet should be able to move in the night. You know, so you can run away from dream monsters.

I write down my middle-of-the-night musings and consider them somewhat profound.

Jeans and tee-shirts are my preferred life uniform.

Golly. Busy days.

Greg is engaged. He seems very happy. I am happy for him, for them. The kids are all learning how to interact with one another and with Greg and Tina. They’re doing great*.

As part of the divorce agreement, I gave up ownership of the house (in exchange for cash, of course.) This was relatively hard for me. That house was the first house I owned. I moved a lot as a kid, and I had a lot of emotional energy poured into that house. Home.

I am working pretty hard.

My Scrabble rating is now 1783.

Daniel moved in with me. His girlfriend Christina from Scotland also is staying with me. They are wonderful to have around. Christina is great (and her accent is, okay, just absolutely adorable.) Curie is thrilled to have them here, too. She yodels at them.

My writing fever is still not as consistent as I would like, but I have some plans.

*Great = griping and complaining. But in a cooperative way!

Things I think versus things I say:

I’m somewhat less confrontational than most people. (I can hear the guffaws from my family and friends from here. Less confrontational? She thinks she’s less confrontational? She’s a wuss. She rolls over and plays dead.) Okay, whatever.

It’s just a matter of translating.

Owner of UgliestPuppyEverBorn: Wow, look at that; all the hair on your dog’s back is standing up!

Me: (nervous chuckle) Yeah, look at that!

Translation: Yes, you cretin, that’s because your dog is being very aggressive and leaping on MY legs and barking profanities in my dog’s face. Why don’t you and your inebriated “date” take your dog to obedience classes?

Also: And don’t turn your back on me when I’m trying to fend off your dog. It is dangerous and rude.

Even later: And, by the way, your dog is the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen. What the HECK is that breed? How can it breathe with that squashed nose?

Even later: Hmph.