Thursday, Nov. 30, 2006
Yup, boys and girls, it's time to dredge up the Christmas template again. Good grief... we're what? Three and a half weeks from Christmas, give or take?
The local temperatures convinced me. We've literally been holed up in two rooms most of the day. We're all camped out around our little electric space heaters because honey, it's cold as HELL here.
I got an interesting proposition today. (Oh stop it. Not THAT kind of proposition.) A local photographer asked me about doing some commissioned paintings for her. I'm going to work a few hours tomorrow night with her on a photo shoot at a local society ball, and we'll hammer out the logistics. We both agreed I will need to work on one or two for both our sakes, to see if it's feasible in terms of time vs. costs and whether the end result will be worth it, but it's definitely an interesting thought.
MC and I had originally planned to go to the Phoenix area tomorrow, as my daughter-in-law's baby shower is Saturday. I think it was Boxx who asked what kind of card I got for her. I got the perfect one for her - it's a rubberized representation of a video-game controller. Never saw a gift card quite like it, in fact!
But with working tomorrow night, we'll have to make the trip Saturday morning instead. No biggie.
I guess today was the final day of NaNoWriMo, and while I barely topped the 2000-word mark on my not-so-epic endeavor, I'll probably peck around on it for a while longer. I enjoy writing in this style, which is heavy on the sarcasm and (hopefully) good for a laugh or three. I just need the time and the ambition to make it go a bit further.
Dirt Lady supposedly hailed from Uzbekistan, a place I’d hereforeto believed existed only in spam-land. The reporter rattled off a list of supposed other connections and affiliations, which included more terrorists than you could shake a stick at. (Not that shaking a stick would have much effect on your garden-variety terrorist, anyway. They’re funny that way.)
Apparently Dirt Dude, the man I pegged for her companion, was an undercover investigator of some kind who’d been trailing her for a while, tracking her through a few dozen disguises and locations. The reporter went on to say that in the ensuing confusion with the accident, Dirt Lady had slipped away, and was believed armed and dangerous. Dirt Dude’s cover being blown, he appeared in a dirt-less picture as this standard gorgeous guy who had the misfortune to be a cop.
I mulled over that bit of information as the report droned on.
It just didn’t fit with the crazy-but-only-slightly-murderous image I had of the old lady. I pegged her as just your run of the mill escapee from the local loony bin, some poor soul who slipped through the cracks of society’s mental illness safety net and whose life was a series of junk-laden shopping carts and soup-kitchen meals.
Now you see why, despite my best intentions, I never really go for writing competitions. My rambling falls between the cracks of coherence and insanity.
Well, I suppose I'd better sign off for tonight. I've already been alerted that pain-in-the-ass web customer will be performing a conference call first thing in the morning, at which time I'm sure he'll whine and bitch about the site he insisted he wants. He wanted streaming audio AND a big-assed flash banner AND the ability to edit online (not to mention a few more ANDs,) yet bitches because the page is slow.
I decided to take this quiz. Not sure which is weirder: the quiz or my results!
Before - After
In the grander scheme of things, no soul can truly be replaced. Each one of us has a place in the universal tapestry. We each contribute our own color and texture. When one thread is snipped too soon, it distorts all the threads around it. Other lives can unravel and tear. If the wrong thread is ripped away, the whole fabric of life becomes dangerously fragile.
- LeiLani, aka Radiogurl aka Bright Opal (1957 - )