I am a bit envious of youse who married young enough to be married now longer than you were single.

I married at 25, I am now 50. I've been married for half my life. That's a very weird thought. But then, being 50 on its own has been kicking my mental butt. I write smutty fanfic, I can't be 50! Moms are 50! And never mind the fact that the high school kids at the next table over at Wendy's last night were young enough to be my grand-children, assuming I got an early start.

Just that plain and smooth and rounded?

Yeah, really simple and a bit heavy. I have a cuff that has edging, and a cuff that's made up of multiple silver wires, and they're too busy. I want quiet and strong.

Is this like how I have multiple stripey blazers, but they're not the stripey blazer I'm still coveting?

I suspect precisely how. I like the ones I have. They're just not the ones. But, sadly for my pocketbook, I do that a lot. Near misses.

I got married when I was 102, at this rate I'll need to be married 90 more years before that happens.

I'm trying to work out what this sentence was supposed to be, and why it didn't turn out that way.

Where should I go?

Somewhere without Twitter.

Yay Perkins!!!

ita !, that's a lovely ring. Very simple and solidly elegant. I hope you find something like it for a wrist cuff.

Fall blew in last night with a 30 degree temperature drop, wind, and rain. It's supposed to be cool, gray, and occasionally rainy all day today—my favorite weather. And I can wear my new fall jacket. [link] (Over jeans, this top in teal, with threads of teal hair bling in my brown hair. I feel, if not stylish, at least visually interesting.)

I'm trying to work out what this sentence was supposed to be, and why it didn't turn out that way.

I'm pretty sure the answer to part (a) is hyperbole, and the answer to part (b) is that it did.....

Deadly meating-eating horses . . .

Once I was at my mother's and looked out the kitchen window. She has a bird feeder just outside - one of the ones that's a post that curls over at the top with a tray hanging from it. There was a raccoon - a really big one - hanging from the tray with three paws and using its other front paw to shovel bird seed into its mouth.

We actually had a raccoon move into our attic for a month or two some years ago. Got in through a broken window on the third floor, made her way to the space between floor and ceiling, and had herself a litter.

I'm pretty sure the answer to part (a) is hyperbole, and the answer to part (b) is that it did.....

But C is 12! He will die in this version of the story!

Timelies!!

Last day of this office job, hooray! I feel bad complaining, it's the easiest money I will ever earn in my life, but yesterday the phone rang 8 times in 9 hours.

I am on chapter 12 of the World's Longest Harry Potter Fanfiction, which is nice. I never read fanfic, really, but someone linked me this one and it's absolutely fabulous. I don't think I'll get to the end today and that makes me sad.

I am confused by Burrell's sentence as well. But I read it first after waking up at 2 am, so maybe not the best time for comprehension.

I need to for everyone in the world (or at least in my workplace) to use their $#@!%$#!!!! Outlook calendars. Trying to set up a meeting is hell, between the people who do not use it at all, the people who refer all inquiries to their secretaries and have turned off the ability for anyone to view their availability, and the people who use it as a to-do list, scheduling non-time-sensitive tasks on the calendar instead of meetings. This endless calling back and forth is irritating!