Today was "one of those days," by which I mean that it was odd almost beyond explanation. I was scheduled to attend a "training" session along with the Cat (and nameless, faceless others) in the Large Blob to the Northwest. It ran from 9-noon and 1:30-4:30. Because it snowed like a son of a bitch last night, I should have left my apartment no later than 7:45, to give me time to clean off the car before driving to the bank for cash and then heading up the mostly country roads disguised as state highways. It is a 35 minute trip on an overcast summer day...with little traffic. Today (currently Partly Cloudy and 6°F, feels like -9°F, dew point 2°F) it would have been all I could do to get there in an hour. Naturally, I didn't leave my place until 8:10. I dashed to the bank, got back, and headed out. At my first turn-off, out of town, I slid through the turn. Luckily for me, the only result was to straighten the wheels, shrug, and decide to take the next turn. At that next turn, however, I couldn't see an appreciable difference between the right-hand ditch, the road, and the left-hand ditch. No thanks.
I turned around. I came to work. I called the Cat, explained, apologized (I hope?), and started working.
Well, I tried to work. The whole day, it was "stop by and chat with Amy" time. The Terminator, (sharing her concerns about Caligula, and complaints thereabout). My male colleagues (being male colleagues, talking about their own stuff). Fluffy, with the usual Fluffy-&-me stuff; that went on all day and she obviously cannot be solely blamed for it. Email came in like someone had greased the internet, including one from someone I thought had dropped off the side of the planet. (Why now? Why me?) In the afternoon, I had a surprise visit from one of my very favorite people ever—albeit in the guise of Asking-For-Something Man. We had a wonderful talk in our typical vein, like playing the Shell Game without knowing who's supposed to be hiding the shells from whom. It's been too long.
After work (during which time I accomplished a remarkable amount, all things considered) I met with my standing Tuesday night "date" (Nick's sister, Pam). We went out for fabulous Mexican food and then on a slightly strange but fun and funny ersatz shopping tear around town. We weren't really buying, just looking. Exploring. That was a kick.
I'd really wanted fried ice cream after dinner, but we were on a sort of schedule so I put it off. Now I'm profoundly hungry (OK, I just feel like eating) and there is no fried ice cream to be had. Major bummer. The chocolate graham crackers are good, but not quite cutting it as a real splurge.
Have you looked at my Johari Window lately? If you haven't made a contribution and feel competent to do so, click here to take part. If you've already done so, or you're just curious to see what it's all about, click here for the results.
Hey, did I mention that I finally got a 2007 appointment calendar? Only 3 1/2 weeks into the year, not too bad. I'm totally annoyed that Moleskine reset the layout of the weekly planner, but I still like it enough that it's the only one I would buy--even given that I couldn't find one in the 10-states' area and had to order it online...from Moleskine itself.
Speaking of ordering: I finally got new glasses. I haven't worn them with anyone else around yet. I suppose that Nick will be the first to see them, barring anything unforeseen requiring me to go sans contact lenses. I do know that a significant proportion of the people in my life would not recognize me on first glance with them on. They are really different from anything I've ever had before.
Oooh! The clerk at Target was staring at me while I authorized my debit payment. It was a major stare, not just the usual bored, "I'm too uninterested in life to bother to scrape up the energy to move my eyeballs just now, thanks," thing that clerks sometimes do. I casually looked back at her, waiting for whatever was to come. Finally, she said, in a surprisingly spunky tone, "You look JUST like Helen Hunt!"
Good God.
"Er, thanks. I have heard that before, though it's been a while. Uh, thanks."
"Yeah, I was just thinking, 'God, she looks so familiar! Is that...could it be...? Yes! It must be Helen Hunt!'"
Honestly, this insane woman was looking at my debit card signature (on her register) to see if I signed it "Helen Hunt." Right-o, Helen Hunt is likely to be shopping for toothbrushes and dotted tights at Target in DeK, along with Nick's sister Pam, on a fucking ungodly frigid Tuesday evening in January. Suuure.
What do you think, those who've seen me in person? Is it me, or is it Helen?
Here's a hint: her eyes are tiny. Mine are not. Her teeth are perfect. Mine are not. Oh, and she makes a zillion dollars a year and spends a chunk of it on stylists, whose jobs it is ("it are?") to make her look good. I...don't.
[Yeah, and I would have posted that actual photograph, but Blogger's ridiculous attempts to slam everyone into using the "New Blogger" by choking out the functionality of the "Old Blogger" rendered it impossible. Hey, here's an idea: why not just REVEAL that the "Old Blogger" photo posting is no longer functional, rather than allowing it to run without results? And why not just eliminate it all together, if it is really "old" after all? Is this Coke, or is it Blogger?! grrrrrrr]
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