It’s Monday. That doesn’t quite mean for me what it does for the rest of the world. It’s still my weekend, and I’m still cruising along in low gear. I’ve had a whirlwind of one so far, so it’s nice to just sit and stare into the computer’s glow.
Stitch’n’Bitch at the bar was good, although anticlimactic. Only four people total, and only about an hour, it was the last one I’ll hold there for at least six months while I’m on my new shift at work. I’m glad, though. I don’t like being the One In Charge Of The Group. I like to GO to functions, not throw them. I’m looking forward to having nights off and being able to go to the Crafty Bitches’ Wednesday night group at the Lex. Or Tuesdays at my LYS. Or Mondays at Barnes and Noble (I know, but it’s run by a very sweet woman who spells her name, Rachael, correctly).
Bleah. Stilted and slow this morning. Have been trying to wake up for an hour now. It would really help if I went in the kitchen and made myself an espresso, but the countertop is black with ants, and I can’t bear to deal with them.
I HATE ants. They take my apartment hostage every fall, and I fight and fight and fight and eventually I capitulate and do the horrid bombing that’s the only thing that really works. I hate ant spray, I hate poison of any type, so it makes me CRAZY. I’ve tried the home remedies, the cucumber rind, the boric acid, (fill in the blank). Do you have a miracle cure that doesn’t involve substances that can kill small animals and cause visitors entering the room to twitch jerkily? (Wait, that might not be the ant spray….)
So, if I walk into the kitchen, I’ll have to do something about the ants. As long as I can avoid that room, I’m all right. I think I’ll just sit on the couch and eat the fudge my sister Christy just brought for me instead. Sisters are good things, yeah? Bethany’s in Montana now, at a friend’s house. Lynn’s actually an ex of mine, one of those people I’m glad to have been able to keep as a friend. A year she got fed up with rat-race that is corporate life in the Bay Area, sold her Oakland loft, and moved to the wilds of Livingston, MT. She has two dogs and a cat and an old Victorian in a train town. She’s friends with the mayor. She attends charity auctions. She rides horses. From everything I hear from her, I’m not sure that her life has really slowed down in any way, but the timbre of it has changed. It’s nice to watch. And I’m glad Beth is under her kind wing for a few days. It sounds like Beth’s been running a little fast (carnies and the Wal*Mart parking lot), and it’ll be nice for her to slow down some.
Oh – here’s a picture of the Ethiopian flag cake – no, I didn’t make it (are you kidding? You know what my kitchen is like right now. A coworker of mine is brilliant at cakes; not only do they look good, but they taste GREAT. I think I had two pieces. Maybe three).
The party went off smashingly – who knew Jenn had so many friends? A going-away party for someone moving to Africa for a year: It was like a wedding without a groom, or a funeral without a body. Everyone from all parts of her life were there, and it was sweet as heck.
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