So, I’ve decided to set myself some goals again. Watch out, world! I’ve got low-to-moderate levels of motivation! It’s this second cup of coffee, I think. Even though it is 1/3 caffeinated, it’s enough to get me movin’ and a-shakin’. Or, rather, sittin’, typin’, and a-shakin’.

So, this week I’ve decided to finish a project, and I think it’s going to be finishing that G.D. (“gorgeous, dazzling”) afghan that’s been sitting in the crochet bin (yes, I’ve got one of those) for three months, untouched. Carpal Tunnel Syndrome, be damned (I don’t have that)(yet). I should probably be doing that instead of this right now, but I’m just a tad more excited about starting finishing it than I am in actually going and getting the hook. I’m sure that scale will tip in a paragraph or two.

Yesterday, for America, we went to Wal-Mart and bought kitty litter. Also, to Lowe’s, to price our current dream projects into stark, cold reality. They actually are fairly reasonably-priced, for dream projects: we looked at shower enclosures/doors, a door to seal off the kitchen from the cold, dark back hallway, water heaters, fences, and various pieces of wood and planking and whatnot to make the barn loft less precariously perched. Then, for America, we went to Wendy’s, which was a terrible idea all around and I don’t know why we went there. Needless to say, don’t bother with the new Sweet ‘N’ Spicy Asian Chicken. It is none of those things, and less.

Some notes to self from yesterday:

How sad, on a scale of 1 to 10,  with 10 being hand-me-the-gun suicidal, would it make me to be the lone hairstylist at Wal-Mart at 11 am on July 4th? I would give it a strong 8, I think. I’m guessing the perm fumes would dull the senses enough that I wouldn’t be able to lift a handgun to my temple. I was thinking the only thing sadder would be ‘lone dancer at Mark’s Showplace, same time and date’ but at least then you’d probably be able to work up an awesome routine and rock a snazzy red, white and blue outfit. And maybe get sparklers! You can’t have sparklers next to perm fumes, I bet.

Wendy’s Spicy Chicken sandwich + Medium Dr. Pepper + nap + allergy medication = strikingly vivid dreams about the coming apocalypse, including flaming/melting bed, screaming people, and laughing devil-priest, constructing his own devil Vatican out of souls of the damned. Oddly, bean burritos + homemade ‘guacasalsa’ + cheap chardonnay (for America) + lemon bread + Burn After Reading = dreamless sleep and kicking all the covers onto J. Go know.

Naming my game character’s pet cat Mr. Whiskers, and then turning him into a giant attack spider is never going to get old to me. Nor is shouting ‘Go get him, Mr. Whiskers!’ ‘Mr. Friskins’ is also a good name for this, but not as good.

As satisfying as it is to blow big gobs of mucus out both nostrils, I’m ready for this cold to be over.

Time to crochet!

So, I’ve decided to set myself some goals again. Watch out, world! I’ve got low-to-moderate levels of motivation! It’s this second cup of coffee, I think. Even though it is 1/3 caffeinated, it’s enough to get me movin’ and a-shakin’. Or, rather, sittin’, typin’, and a-shakin’.

So, this week I’ve decided to finish a project, and I think it’s going to be finishing that G.D. (“gorgeous, dazzling”) afghan that’s been sitting in the crochet bin (yes, I’ve got one of those) for three months, untouched. Carpal Tunnel Syndrome, be damned (I don’t have that)(yet). I should probably be doing that instead of this right now, but I’m just a tad more excited about starting finishing it than I am in actually going and getting the hook. I’m sure that scale will tip in a paragraph or two.

Yesterday, for America, we went to Wal-Mart and bought kitty litter. Also, to Lowe’s, to price our current dream projects into stark, cold reality. They actually are fairly reasonably-priced, for dream projects: we looked at shower enclosures/doors, a door to seal off the kitchen from the cold, dark back hallway, water heaters, fences, and various pieces of wood and planking and whatnot to make the barn loft less precariously perched. Then, for America, we went to Wendy’s, which was a terrible idea all around and I don’t know why we went there. Needless to say, don’t bother with the new Sweet ‘N’ Spicy Asian Chicken. It is none of those things, and less.

Some notes to self from yesterday:

*How sad, on a scale of 1 to 10,  with 10 being hand-me-the-gun suicidal, would it make me to be the lone hairstylist at Wal-Mart at 11 am on July 4th? I would give it a strong 8, I think. I’m guessing the perm fumes would dull the senses enough that I wouldn’t be able to lift a handgun to my temple. I was thinking the only thing sadder would be ‘lone dancer at Mark’s Showplace, same time and date’ but at least then you’d probably be able to work up an awesome routine and rock a snazzy red, white and blue outfit. And maybe get sparklers! You can’t have sparklers next to perm fumes, I bet.

*Wendy’s Spicy Chicken sandwich + Medium Dr. Pepper + nap + allergy medication = strikingly vivid dreams about the coming apocalypse, including flaming/melting bed, screaming people, and laughing devil-priest, constructing his own devil Vatican out of souls of the damned. Oddly, bean burritos + homemade ‘guacasalsa’ + cheap chardonnay (for America) + lemon bread + Burn After Reading = dreamless sleep and kicking all the covers onto J. Go know.

*Naming my game character’s pet cat Mr. Whiskers, and then turning him into a giant attack spider is never going to get old to me. Nor is shouting ‘Go get him, Mr. Whiskers!’ ‘Mr. Friskins’ is also a good name for this, but not as good.

*As satisfying as it is to blow big gobs of mucus out both nostrils, I’m ready for this cold to be over now, please.

Time to crochet!