I wonder if the very important thing I try to say every time I post was somehow already said one drunken wordy night and I will never get it back. If I sit here with the drapes closed and my mind open exclusively to the comedy channel, will I finally be funny?

I read once you have to write at least a million words before you write anything of consequence. I'm guessing that person didn't count blogging in that estimate.

Today I left the house, got on a bus, sat for awhile, walked a couple of blocks, moved in place, walked back, sat some more, walked, drank a beer, walked, and got a ride home. Both the cats were asleep. Chiana is propped against my pillow and Vash is on the couch. I will join them in dreamland soon.

Last night I met a friend after work and had a very tasty whisky sour made with egg white. It was in a hip, dim, candle-lit bar, with dark corners and pneumatic stools. Spoiling the mood however was a large flat screen tv over the counter demanding attention. Football, it said, you watch it.

This entry: I don't know how to end you.

I'm a Frayed Knot

Today some inconsequential wire inside is fraying, rubbing another bit raw. And I would like to fall face first into a bucket of comfort food -- a Monte Cristo sandwich, cajun tater tots, meatloaf -- but I would feel a whole lot better if I just went to the gym and knocked that stupid wire back into place.

"I Kick Ass for the Lord"

I'm reporting to you live from the living room floor where, some time ago, we put on a DVD titled "Dead Alive."

I've never seen so much fake blood, at least I hope it's fake. A bottle of wine, a cat in the lap, and a great cult flick. Yessirree. That's Sunday for you.

The moon was big tonight, big and yellow and toothy. It rose over the buildings over the bay and finally disappeared up above the window. But then you knew that, didn't you.

Diablo II: Lord of Destruction

Jer and I started playing Diablo II again. I created a barbarian character named Face and he's playing a paladin named Knuckles. This leads to a wide variety of "So's your face," jokes.

I'll spare you the other (very funny) Diablo in-jokes we've amassed over the years. Except if you ever hear me yell, "Don't be a hero Wolf!" you should know I'm referring to an old hireling with a penchant for kamikaze stunts and not a Dick Wolf Production.

This whole vacation thing passed far too quickly. I'm not unhappy to return to the working world by any means, but it's certainly been nice to think, hey, I'd rather be sleeping and do it. Or, I haven't read that book yet! And then dive in. It's true, I've eaten more than I should but I've also worked out for an hour three times this week. The apartment is in okay shape. And I'm reading three different books. Tomorrow I will probably do my Christmas shopping online.

If I had the funds, I would live like this all the time. Nothing extravagant, just reading and cooking and sleeping and playing Diablo II. Maybe join a playwriting group. Go to the library. Experience new things. I hear there's an ice skating rink at Seattle Center for the holidays, I'd like to try that. Ice skating isn't one of my skills exactly, but Jer is great at it. Before we started dating I remember watching him play roller hockey with friends at the university gym.

He's tried to teach me a couple of times. I can get started okay and glide in the right direction, but then I can't figure out how to stop without sitting down and tearing a hole in my pants.

The solution to this problem is clear: buy more pants.

Happy Sunny, Chilly Friday

I sure do enjoy being an adult. For breakfast I ate a slice of pumpkin pie and a Diet Dr. Pepper. Also I had to mail something outside and I didn't have time to shower first, so I put on a knit cap and ran downstairs in my pajamas. Unfortunately, I ran into two of our older residents putting up a Christmas tree in the lobby. They looked at me funny. But as an adult, I can choose to ignore their alienation or I can drink it away with Baileys and coffee.

I will probably drink the pain away.

Thanksgiving dinner went very well. All the dishes turned out and Jer loved the smoked turkey. My tragic secret is that turkey does not do much for me. I mostly consider it a vehicle for transporting gravy into my face. I would recommend the smoked turkey however because it is not only tasty but pre-cooked. One less thing to worry about.

I ended up making two pumpkin pies, Green Bean Casserole, Roasted Garlic Mashed Potatoes and Greek Stuffing. We also had gravy and dinner rolls, as predicted. You should know I am not perfect though. I burned the pine nuts for the stuffing. I got distracted by foaming potatoes and let the nuts toast longer than the prescribed 5 minutes, 425 degrees. ("Five minutes, Turkish.") And in case you were wondering, burned, dark brown pine nuts should not be eaten. They taste like char.

Jer graciously volunteered to brave the store and buy me some more pine nuts. He said it was crazy busy, but he returned triumphant and I was able to finish the stuffing.

I am watching "Bizarre Foods" and they are talking about jellied moose nose. Naturally, my thoughts turn toward preservation. In the next year, I think I will learn more about preserving food. I believe I have a decent pickle recipe from the Internet. That will be my baby step. If you have any suggestions on books or recipes or websites, please post a comment.

a subtle assault on the senses

On Thanksgiving morn, I recommend you avoid watching a show called "Eaten Alive" documenting parasites and their effects on the human body.

Although I must say, it is fascinatingly gruesome.

I assume this delicious irony is brought to me by the vegans.

Let the Bodies Hit the Flo'

Happy Almost Thanksgiving!

I'm on the floor. Where are you?

I should be making a pumpkin pie or two. Maybe I will do that. I very constructively moved all the cans I need to the counter, along with the ground ginger, ground clover, and ground cinnamon. I looked at the instructions and then came in and sat down on the floor.

Standing hurts.

Let's see. On Day-Whatever-This-Is-Of-Vacation I called my parents and they told me all about their European cruise, and then Jer dropped me off downtown on his way to work so I could mail a package and go to the gym. It wasn't the smartest thing in the world to go back to they gym so soon after yesterday, but there it is.

Muscles mad. Head fuzzy. Ground good.

I still haven't made a timeline of food for tomorrow. If I remember everything, there will be turkey, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, pumpkin pie, some kind of vegetable, some gravy I bought at Target (that's how I roll), and oh yes, dinner rolls. And Greek Stuffing. And? Mystery.

Maybe not mystery.

Unless you consider Ibuprofen and a bottle of Red Zinfandel, mystery.

Why Jer is Awesome

We were down to our final bottle of pumpkin beer, and it was Jer's -- we shared the other bottles except one I drank by myself while working on photos. At the realization there would be no more for a whole year, I may have... shown some disappointment.

I'm one of those people who show emotion on their face pretty clearly. I'm fun to scare because I will give you a good reaction, whether it's a shout, shriek, or scream. For awhile I thought I'd become an actor, but I wasn't persistent enough. I'm pretty sure all you need to be successful at anything is a little talent and a whole lot of persistence.

Jer offered to get us more pumpkin beer. He called the Elysian and found they had bottles for sale at their Capitol Hill location. So we drove out there, and obtained more beer.

Then we got stuck in the parking lot. In the five minutes we spent inside the bar, an office delivery truck parked perpendicular to a water heater truck, with only a narrow gap between them. Eventually we figured out if I guided Jer through, and he trusted me, we could only just make it through the gap. I'd say about five inches to spare.

Unfortunately we were stuck in that parking lot just long enough for all our clothes to smell like brewery. It's amazing how that stuff permeates.

And that, dear Internet, is why Jer is awesome.

The Trip for Trans Fats

On day three of vacation, which would be Monday, I ran some errands in the morning -- post office, Staples, Target, and Safeway. And then hung out (hanged?) in the apartment for the rest of the day.

Wait, that's not true. We drove to Tacoma. How did I forget Tacoma?

Sunday night, Jer and I watched "Supersize Me" on CBC. Only instead of having the intended effect -- fast food, ew -- we both found ourselves craving some grease and trans fats.

We used to live exclusively on fast food, and although it was cheap! and easy! and greasy! it was also very very bad. We rarely eat fast food these days, but we were missing Carl's Jr. Western Bacon Cheeseburger and it was a vacation day, and heck, the closest one is in Tacoma. Why not go? (For my central coast readers, as far as driving distance goes, Tacoma is to Seattle what Ventura is to Santa Barbara.) (For everybody else, it's about a half hour away.)

So I ran my errands -- I used my new canvas totes at 3 of the 4 stores, and it only confused the checkers a little -- I programmed the Tacoma address into the GPS, and we hit the road.

As I ate my burger, I found it tasty and worth the drive. My side dish of onion rings however, was a greasy shock to the system. I could only eat a few of them. For the rest of the evening it felt like my throat and tongue were coated with oil. It was awful. It was sad. I asked for so little... and I guess I got it.

So this morning I went to the gym and worked with my trainer for an hour. I am just beginning to experience the soreness and I could definitely go back to sleep, but I feel a little better about our culinary adventure yesterday. Or misstep, as it were.

Like most Sundays, I'm at the computer, waiting for Jer to wake up. The big item on the agenda is to make guacamole. And maybe catch up on "Dexter."

In honor of my successful shopping trip, I went through the closet and removed any items that were too short or too baggy. It left me with some buyer's remorse since some of the items were only 4 months old, however it was the biggest purge yet. Some of the items I'd been holding onto "just in case." Like the two pairs of pants with obliterated eyehooks and me having to face the fact that I would never fix them. Or the blue slacks that appear to have deflated from behind. So very flattering.

Now they're gone. Or at least packed up. Suddenly I have an abundance of hangars.

Today is the second day of vacation and I am already falling into bad, old habits. Too much television watching, not enough focus. I don't know if there's anything I necessarily need to get out of these days except to relax, but there are undercurrents of guilt in not spending my time more productively.

It's your last chance to buy my teakettle. Auction ends tonight at 8:05pm PST.

In Search of Slacks

It is 11am. I am just back from shopping.

I decided I didn't want to be locked into leaving the house on Black Friday, and if I could find deals ahead of time, I would take advantage.

This morning J.C. Penney had a doorbuster sale starting at 7am, and since that's where I've been buying my slacks of late -- and I had a coupon plus a gift card -- I decided to go.

I left the apartment at 6:45 am, arrived at the mall at 7:05 am, and avoided the petite section (because I am not 5 ft 4 in tall like I thought but rather 5 ft 5.5 in), and braved the rest of the store. Unfortunately I am not very knowledgeable about the rest of the store, and my wandering took me from petites directly to women's sizes. I thought, hm, maybe sizes just jump? One day you're proportionately wee and the next you have womanly curves? So I tried on some smaller women's sizes but they didn't hug the right parts of me. I didn't dare go back to Juniors so I sucked it up and kept walking. Could it be that there are no clothes for people in between?

Part of the problem here -- and maybe why you are wondering why I didn't know about regular sizes -- is that I have been a larger size for a very long time. I pretty much went from a Junior size to a full-figured size. And then stopped buying clothes. I allowed zippers to bust and buttons to crack before I'd bother tossing an item. At one point I owned one pair of stretch black pants that I wore everyday, because the thought of going shopping and looking at my fat in those horrible three-way mirrors was more than I could handle. And the kicker is, I'm not that fat.

Eventually I found the regular women's apparel and dove in. It was awesome. It was exciting. I am going DOWN in sizes rather than up, consistently, and over the longest range of time in my life. I am doing this by making healthier choices, not dieting exactly, and working out. And the small changes are continually yielding tangible results. Three sizes I've dropped...

I bought more workout pants -- the old ones are one tug away from mooning people -- I bought a few shirts (need more), slacks for a week, 1 pair of Isotoner gloves, 2 dresses... and 6 pairs of black socks. Quite a haul.

I did have to skip spinning this morning to catch the sale, but I will make up the workout -- as soon as the rain lets up and I get done with my well-deserved nap. Three hours at the mall and all I got was this awesome bag of clothes...

Not too shabby for my first day of vacation.

Frugalicious

I have some guilt about all the plastic in my life, so I decided to buy some canvas totes.

A secondary benefit is that it reduces the plastic available for Vash to chew on. What a weird cat. We actually had to install babyproof locks on the kitchen cabinets to keep him from indulging his bizarre midnight appetite.

I first read about this particular tote on Queercents, one of my favorite personal finance sites.

Of course now I have to remember I have them. I took a trip to Costco tonight and forgot them completely. It was raining, and instead of accepting one of their boxes -- I'm stubborn, did you know that? -- I juggled. Photos in my jacket, wine under my arm, CFL bulbs across my chest, chicken stacked on the bulbs. Also, rain.

I did okay. Next time I will do better with my fancy canvas tote.

The CFL bulbs weren't because of guilt, they were because I'm frugal. A pack of six for $13.99 with a $10 instant rebate. Get thee to Costco and buy yourself some energy savings. Or just leave your lights off. Either way.

The Conspiracy of Socks

I've saved 82% of what I need for the fancy wedding dinner. With my next paycheck I should reach the goal amount. Fan-tastic.

At my physical a couple weeks ago, I found out I'm an inch and a half taller than I thought. Consequently, I must buy pants. See I was trying to ignore it, but my current pants fall too short, and -- since losing more weight -- are too baggy. (Add in a pair of scuffed black shoes and I am the picture of professionalism!)

That said, I will be braving the mall on Black Friday.

I am mentally psyching myself up in every spare moment. You WILL wake up before 5am on a Friday. You WILL fight to reach the sale rack. You WILL, like your warrior ancestors (probably one in their somewhere), stare down the shopping beast and return triumphant with new and stylish skins! Raaaaawwwwrrrr!

And some black socks. Don't forget socks. I hate spending money on socks. All this saving money backfires because I've trained myself to ask about every single purchase: this or a house? House wins over socks every time, except I can't NOT wear socks in winter. Stupid mandatory footwear.

Recently I discovered I can do a real push-up or 10. I'm 30 years old and I'm doing my first real push-ups, not from the knee. Is that sad? It might be sad.

The cats remain unimpressed.

The Smith Machine

At the gym today I did squats on the Smith Machine. And for the first time did them correctly, which nets me a gold star and fantastic quads.

I was pretty sure my trainer was lying when he told me it was called a Smith Machine ... I may have even cracked a joke about using the Jones machine next, but that's just the relationship we have. We so crazy.

Then I overheard another trainer cheering on his client, and I could've sworn he said, "Rip it up hard." More likely he said, "Rip it apart," but for the rest of my session I kept yelling, "Rip it up... hard!" because I'm 12.

Squat is an ugly word.

On the commute home last night, the bus got a flat tire. We squished two buses worth of people into one bus. I'm glad that doesn't happen very often. I'm not prone to claustrophobia but if ever I was going to feel it, it'd be then.

Today wasn't all that great. Tomorrow will be better.

I am more ready than you can possibly know for my week of vacation.

Overall you could say the weekend was domestically satisfying. On Saturday night I washed and folded many loads of laundry, decluttered the entryway, watched too much Bravo -- "The Real Housewives of Orange County" and the movie "Honey" -- and dusted. Sunday morning I woke up too early, loaded a mostly full knife block into my backpack, and drove to Jiffy Lube for an oil change. Then I walked over to the farmer's market, paid to have my knives sharpened, and bought Cirrus cheese from Port Townsend Creamery, a baguette, and a jar of pumpkin butter.

It was surreal walking around carrying 6 dull knives and a pair of kitchen scissors on my back. I kept wondering what the guys at the Jiffy Lube would think if they knew what I was packing. I was like the world's most inefficient hitman.

Hold on, [swing bag around, unzip], just give me a second, [fumble, fumble, draw], don't move, I SAID DON'T MOVE, [thrust dull knife at target, scratching the target really badly]. DamMIT. [run]

After I got home, I started prep work on the beef stew, stopped to chat with the landlady, and put the stew in the oven. It turned out well, though I would probably skip the noddles and just add potatoes next time. Jer and I ate dinner while watching the English language version of "Kiki's Delivery Service," which I thought was only okay. We usually watch sub-titled anime, so I'm not sure how much the experience would change without dubbing. It was sort of strange to say, "That sounds a lot like Janeane Garafalo," and then see her name in the credits.

I'm taking vacation days all next week and it looks like Jer will have Thanksgiving evening off, which is very nice. So far I've bought ingredients to make the green bean casserole, pumpkin pie, and ordered the turkey. Not particularly imaginative, but comforty-type food. I might try my hand at the family Greek Stuffing recipe, and I will definitely be making mashed potatoes. Beyond that I should sit down and hammer out a menu.

Whatever I do, it'll beat my lame attempt last year. I think we stocked up on turkey TV dinners and ate that for a week.

Apathy and I, we are on-again off-again.

The spinning theme today was bootcamp. Spent most of the time out of the saddle in zones 3 and 4. It was tough, but good. I came home, ate an apple (used my new apple slicer, and promptly fell asleep.

It's silly but I didn't know these apple slicers existed; suddenly apples are exciting again.

It's been a good couple of weeks selling on half.com. I sold this book today: Walker Evans: Polaroids. I bought it with my employee discount when I worked at Barnes & Noble and was going to photography school. It was supposed to inspire me; I even bought a Polaroid SX-70 so I could shoot just like Walker Evans.

It didn't work out. I sold the SX-70 when I left school and couldn't get a full-time job. I found out too late I couldn't get a job because someone held a grudge and didn't have the integrity to clue me in. But that's another story.

The bright side is that the book sold for twice what I paid for it, and the proceeds will go to a good cause.

I finally reserved the limo for our fancy wedding party. It may have required a pint or two of courage -- Anderson Valley Winter Solstice, to be exact -- but I manned up and did the deed. Now I guess the next thing I need to do is find a dress.

I imagine that will require the opposite of manning up.

"Chat Stew, So Meaty"

Just a reminder, if you're in the market for a tea kettle, boy have I got a deal for you! Only 2 1/2 days left to bid!

Tonight I arranged to use the car to go grocery shopping and bought the ingredients to make Beef Daube Provencal, which as far as I can tell is French for fancy stew. I think that will be my Sunday project.

I received my blood test results from my physical last week. My thyroid (T3, T4) levels are all normal, which is the best news I've heard all day. I am so thankful not to have to worry about that right now -- no pills, no radioactive anything, no semimonthly blood tests. Hoo-ray.

The cats have spent the last 15 minutes slap-fighting. Chiana temporarily holds the higher ground from atop my slide scanner. Vash is staring me down at floor level. I am protecting myself with a red spray bottle. And now you know everything.

Since October 1, I've sold 20 items on half.com and 1 item on ebay. That's a lot of visits to the post office!

Today there was work and gym -- i am strong like bull, w00t -- then a batch of brown rice and a scrubdown of the bathroom sink and toilet. I am very much like the person Fergie sings about in her Glamorous song, which would explain the tiara and the pearls you can't see. But trust me they are fabulous.

There were no commuting incidents today, no frantic running through the streets of downtown. I still need to hire a limo for the fancy wedding dinner but I keep putting it off because I dislike using the phone. No other reason. It is number one on my Google to-do list though.

Have I mentioned that I ordered my Thanksgiving turkey from GobbleGobble.com? It is a smoked turkey; I have never had smoked turkey. Actually I have never served or carved a turkey at all. Maybe I should buy some sort of electric knife that vibrates dangerously. Or one of those really big forks to hold it in place while I hack at it with some kind of knife that doesn't vibrate.

I am going to be so good at this Thanksgiving dinner thing.

Technically though it might be a Thanksgiving lunch since we're not sure if Jer gets the evening off. More wine for me I guess. Opa!

Run, Christy, Run

I understand bus drivers have to be trained, I truly understand that they are not born intuitively knowing a route, but I am so ready for them all to hurry up and finish. Tonight's commute was just awful.

My bus driver forgot to switch the sign from "TERMINAL" to "37" until it was pulling away from my stop. I watched it pull away in horror and muttered, "You've got to be kidding me." Then I proceeded to chase it. From Pike to Union to University to Seneca, as fast as my legs would carry me. I may have been wheezing but I caught it!

Then, as I approached my stop, I pulled the rope and wobbled to stand behind the driver. She completely missed the stop. I pointed it out and she pulled over. I walked back home.

On Friday, the driver went the wrong way and missed 2 stops. It stresses me out when I feel like I have to watch the driver's every move. I don't like it, though it does make me much more appreciative of the days things go smoothly.

Last night was really great. Jer and I ate dinner at PF Changs. We had a coupon to try something on their new menu for free. I ordered the prawns with garlic noodles and they were good. Not the best thing I've ever eaten, but not the worst. What I really liked was the ginger beer. It's fantastic.

Then we got ice cream and went home and watched "The Island of Lost Souls." It's just about my favorite movie ever and I haven't seen it in years, just found a copy on eBay. It came out in 1932 and it's based on H.G. Wells' "Island of Dr. Moreau." I wish they'd release this officially on DVD because it deserves it. Charles Laughton is an incredibly creepy Dr. Moreau. And his creations are downright terrifying. It's so much better than the other film versions...

Change your clocks

Every Sunday morning for weeks I find myself in the same spot: sitting at my desk, catching up on Bloglines, checking statements, basically goofing off. Jer is still asleep surrounded by cats and goose feathers. He got home from work around 1:30am and he'll be sleeping for another couple of hours.

And every Sunday morning like clockwork, I hear his work phone buzz and vibrate on his desk. It, irrationally, annoys the crap out of me -- that that piece of plastic has so much control over our lives.

This is our one day off together and truthfully it's usually just an email he can ignore or a quick question, nothing important, but I just wish they'd leave him alone for one day.

In the Venn diagram of our weeks, Sunday is the only day that overlaps completely. I guess it shouldn't come as a shock that I'm protective of it.

Ibuprofen you complete me

Five days at the gym this week and my muscles are complaining, however I still managed to get excited about spinning this morning. The theme today was "climbing Mount Si," so we spent a lot of time in zone 4 (highest tension) out of the saddle. I pushed myself hard and felt good after -- excepting the muscle aches but I think fault lies more in deadlifts with my trainer yesterday or the 3 miles I jogged on Thursday.

I told Jer about the deadlifts and he said, "Why are you lifting zombies?"

Only a scant few years ago I avoided the gym like a zombie plague. Hello, irony. You are my bitch now.

Anywho. I am home alone again on a Saturday night and I'm not all that motivated to action. I need to pre-post some photoblog entries, clean some stuff, and quit dwelling on things I cannot control. A gal spends all her free time reading about the economy and securing a mortgage and she's liable to go a little batty, you know?

Now that we're officially married, Jer and I were finally able to combine our renter's insurance policies. He was looking over the updated paperwork and noticed a couple of things. First, we are not covered due to acts of war. Accidental or civil, declared or not declared, it doesn't matter. Also, in case of a nuclear explosion, we are not covered.

I think it's important to know these things up front. It will certainly influence which way I vote come election time.

too funny, and by funny i mean sad

So I've been reading this "blogger" for about, I don't know, 2 years. And it turns out she's a fake, a liar, a totally made up personality done as an exercise for a book. I find this out, and I post the following comment:

On November 3rd, 2007 01:41 am (UTC), an anonymous reader commented:
It's too bad
I suppose what I find disappointing isn't that this was a lie -- because there was some beautiful writing and drawings, and that is commendable -- it's that when I think back to how I found your site it becomes extremely distasteful. "[Name_removed]" sent me an email on June 11, 2005, saying she liked my site and included her site in the signature. And so I went to the site, and I read it, sure. I commented once on the guestbook. I enjoyed it for the merit of the writing. But now that I know it was a marketing ploy? I can't actually forgive that, which is too bad. I probably would've liked your book.

 

For the record, I don't really care if you or "[Name_removed]" liked my site or not, it's that you made the lie personal; you advertised under false pretenses. But hey, you're a fantastic writer and I wish you well in all your future endeavors. The experiment just didn't work for me that's all, but it sounds like it worked for the rest of them. - Christy

If it's not clear, [Name_removed] is the name the author used as the blogger -- she pretended she was an artistic, bright, high school girl. Not 5 minutes after I post the comment, it gets deleted. I am not surprised, not at all. It certainly explains why ALL of the comments are positive so far. Truth is, I read the blog and I rooted for her and it made me happy to cheer somebody else on. Somebody who had talent and was stuck on the edge of something great. And yes, a part of me is sad that a person I respected doesn't exist anymore, but that's not why I'm angry. I'm angry and disgusted because that email was a sales pitch and I fell for it. And the next time I will trust that much less...

I won't give it anymore publicity by providing a link. But damn. I guess I just like to believe that our word is very important, that it's pretty much the only thing we have.

Times like this, the internet frightens me.

Happy November!

Oh hey. A chance to sit down. I'll take it.

It's been a busy couple of days. Doctor, trainer, chicken adobo from Oriental Mart... Meetings, eBay auction, writing writing writing, grocery shopping, haunted elevator and... scene.

To view my supreme eBay handiwork, visit: Pfaltzgraff Monaco Tea Kettle. It's chip-resistant, don't-ya-know, and a very pretty mosaic of cobalt blue and turquoise.

I'd keep the kettle, but I already have a blue one and I decided that no matter how much a person likes Genmaicha, there's no reason for two kettles. I'm actually sitting here trying to think of a reason to have two kettles and the ONLY thing I can think of is MAYBE if I had to defend a parapet and needed a vessel to boil hot oil in. But even then I bet my stock pot would work.

Yesterday at the doctor I received a bit of good news. I'm overweight, which is excellent because that means I'm not obese anymore, according to the BMI. You see, overweight is just a hop, skip, and a jump away from normal, or rather, a treadmill, an elliptical machine, and a chest press. (Yes, I think I'll keep all the commas. It's very important that you pause to breathe. Good for stress management.)

At the grocery store I bought ingredients to make Chicken Jalfrezi, which I've never made before. That will be tomorrow night's project, or maybe Saturday. On Sunday we might go see Blade Runner at the Cinerama. Or we might not.

I'm a wild thing; you can't pin me down. Unless you offer me a truffle. Then all bets are off.