oopsie (with a lot of words in all-caps)
Monday 31 March 2008 | someone left a cookie
Small math error = $12 to get spendy with, not $40. Thus tragically no PJs for me, not that I need them anyway. I just CANNOT justify whipping out the plastic when the mechanic told me this morning I need new brakes AND rotors (by his estimate, $600, though this is mysterious because I had them checked RIGHT BEFORE we drove to Tartarus last summer? The B. is suspicious so I’m getting a second opinion). Bleh. Cars! Bleh.
Birthday zero, Monday one.
Anyway I can get $12 worth of FABRIC, so nothing to complain about there. And last night I uploaded new money shots to my flickr collection, which I love way, way, WAY too much, and I share with you a great secret by giving you a link to it—I feel all vulnerable and exposed now, like you’re able to see my porn. Sometimes I think fabric love and teh Interwebs keep me going on days like today; but they also become something with which I can procrastinate. Though of course I could use anything. It was once my typewriter and bound journals (fountain pen and watercolor pencil on sketchbook paper! those were, truly, the days. Which is a strange expression if you think about it, because that implies that these are NOT the days; but these are days, aren’t they? And someday we’ll look back on them and say, those were the days?).
Right. Most Important Tasks, then, for today, per the ever-bracing Zen Habits (which again is funny because you’d think I might have developed a few of those along the way—but then they’re not terribly Zen, in a sense—I mean, “Purpose Your Day”?!?)….even though it’s already a quarter to two:
1. Finish book edits, email to A.
2. Finish manuscript, email to D.
3. Do some freaking GRADING.
Except, because of doing nothing this weekend other than weeding and petting digital fabric, I’ll have to cut my three-hour revision class to get this done. Fortunately (?) Walt Whitman broke his toe so our interminable evening workshop is cancelled, which means my interminable terrible Zen poem doesn’t get shredded by my well-meaning peers this week, which is a relief. A student just emailed wanting to know her semester grade—understandably so, since it is nearly the end of the semester. Oh boy.
Would it be so wrong to have a tiny nap first? I need coffee but we have no cream left; it all went into the brulée. Again, no complaints….just a slight whimper.
I wish I had time to blog properly. You need poems! You need jaw-droppingly cool and/or laugh-your-cheekbones-sore links you would never find on your own (like this one and this one). You need stories about Aunt Freud versus the DBT and the Brujo and Mandarin (hell, *I* need stories about Mandarin…we voicemail each other short NPR segments of our lives) and my festering premenstrual memory-riddled brain! Or maybe you just need coffee too.
Can you put crème brulée into coffee? Does anyone know?
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Crocheting is like this whole different culture — have you seen http://monstercrochet.blogspot.com ? But see, I always wonder if this makes me an enabler or something, my willingness to follow your every link and then say “oh that reminds me of this…” and I know I am avoiding folding my kids’ laundry, but I am thinking I’ve put ice cream in coffee when short on milk, why not the creme brulee?