Heh. Sadly, had I known this an hour ago, I might've gone there...but alas, I did work, instead. And checked here, of course.

Doh, and now I realize my flight is boarding in three minutes and I haven't bought any food or drink. Ack! Run!

Theatre school was hugs, kisses, massage, and random making out.

Add in ALSO very much respecting others' need for space/down time, and you've got a Buffistas F2F!

oh man! I'm finally watching the season finale of GA. I can't believe that Matt Saracen is in it!

WOOOT! I wanted to wear mine to the band concert tonight but it was in the hamper.

I think I shall wear mine this weekend!

I am not a hugger.

Cute scientist story: I was horribly bored this afternoon, as was one of my other secretaries, so we went door to door trick-or-treating for an afternoon project. We ended up hanging some posters, returning some loaner equipment, and sifting through piles of papers sorting out the trash from the journal articles.

We discovered a wee little ragdoll almost buried behind the scientist's pile of paper.

"Um, Bruce? What's up with the dolly?"

Bruce said, "My three year old gave me a kiss one morning and said, 'Take my Lovey to work with you in case you need a nap Daddy.'"

SO CUTE!

Sigh. I've been thinking about the huggy teens all day; that was totally and completely my high school experience as a theater geek. Tons of hugging at the beginning of every class, every day. And, really, it was...kind of nice.

For every one of us who was a calm cool well-adjusted Sam Rockwell, all character-actor handsome and also friends with the regular kids and dating a cheerleader and all, there were about fifty of, well, me, and everyone like me. All the overly bookish weirdos who were eerily good onstage because we'd spent so much time silently observing everyone and everything. We were all giddy at being in a place where being like us was cool and desirable, but still horribly nervous and validation-seeking and oh, we craved the giant dorky comforting mutual fanclub hugginess of it.

And, damn, now I'm sort of missing it. They were all (mostly all) good, funny, smart, Buffista-ish people, and it felt nice to have regular infusions of affectionate physical contact. Even now, married and all, there are occasional days when work and Matilda have thrown such a spanner in everyone's sleep schedules that Hec and I barely have enough simultaneous consciousness and proximity to hold hands for a moment. I'd happily trade a year's supply of chocolate for, say, four good solid hugs a day.

I love my house. Even as I view possible new water damage (that I think my caulking and grouting adventure alleviated, crossed fingers.) I'd hug my house. I'm still stunned how much it is mine.

It took me a week to figure out the term I needed for google was splash guard...

hahahahha! Bailey! "If that doesn't work, you're going to pull out the I was raised out back with the trash can roots and beat the crap out of him!" My love Bailey doesn't diminish.

So, at work this afternoon, a higher-up called me over to talk and started out with, "I'm afraid we're going to have to let you go." Pause, then smile. "Not really." I think he thought he was being funny. I was too stunned at the time to react, but now I'm feeling the slow burn building. Not a joking matter!

Your boss is Michael Scott!