Right?!
I've got a kitten biting my foot, a geriatric cat behind my head, I'm home alone, I swam over a mile tonight despite being dang sore for no reason, I've got some great memories and dreams in my head and I love life. I think this year might be the best start for me ever. And I've had some good years.
Happy birthday to Matt, Cash, and ita's dad!!!!
And thanks everyone for the birthday wishes!
I spent most of the day traveling as I had the same headwinds trouble that Scola did and had to land in Las Vegas for refueling. On the upside, my flight to NY on Friday was only 4h45.
The fall foliage in the Catskills made it all worth it.
Off to catch up on what I missed...
I will pass on the good wishes to my father, and he will think it's all a bit weird, despite having met some of you. Or because.
Kilts might not be skirts, but they're as good as for my purposes--I don't distinguish when I wear them, and I'm not picky when mens wear them, and my site just got updated with only two pictures from Huffington because I either had the pics already, or those men were scary. On the other hand, did some lovely Eddie Izzard surfing, and will do some more Thomas Jane later.
Day two of work complete. This will get old soon, but not yet.
Raining here, fairly heavily. Sounds nice, except for the sirens.
For all the drivers losing their fucking minds? I recall driving in the dark and rain to get you and marveling how LA seems to lose its mind in the rain. And I don't like driving in the dark rain at all either, but sheesh!
No, I see not. Sorry, used to hanging out with Europeans these days. They've all gone to sleep. Hi ita, hi Sarameg! Hi anyone else who happens to be here.
Hi, CallaCV! I just left a note for you in Delurking, but you seem to have migrated.
Quiet evening here--I freaked Matilda into a fit of tears by lighting a candle in the jack-o-lantern, but have managed to redeem myself with one of her favorite children's shows, featuring bubble blowing, a dancing monkey, and a pirate tea party. Next up is bedtime with a bottle of milk for her, a small martini for me, and the glorious weirdness of Maira Kalman.