Sunday, January 07, 2007

Papparazzi at the Track (see the shadow?)

Come on in, but don't bring Rex. What I hate is when there IS a dog on the track following you around and people assume 1)it's yours 2)you are casually breaking the rule. Every time someone passes me (uh, that would be about everyone), I think of doing a Peter Sellers--"It's nut my dog."

It's quite unbelievable even to be ON the track in January. Normally this is treadmill time and thank god this is happening because my treadmill is trying to pull a fast one. It's acting like it is a bureau. It just wants to sit there and not do anything even in the face of 120 volts of electricity. Or whatever.



I forced the doctor to see me on Friday and he flushed out my ears (THANKS FOR SHARING, BECKY!) If you have never had this done, I do not recommend it. He takes an enormous stainless steel contraption that looks like a frosting tube and fills it with water and then blasts it into your head. It went all the way to the early childhood lobe of my brain on one side and my college dorm memories on the other. I remembered where I left my Physical Science textbook at long last.

Anyway, I can HEAR AGAIN OUT OF BOTH SIDES AND PROBABLY WON'T FALL DOWN. This is never guaranteed, however.

And in other news how, you might ask, is the 600 pound gorilla doing?

Could that be SATAN? Or rather SANTA?? CHRISTMAS CLEANUP, which Becky loathes.

Are you ready?

I did it ALL.

Yes, dear reader, I scoured and hunted down and put away every little doobiewicky. They are all mashed into the den cabinets and/or one big cardboard box. Even the tree has gone not to its final reward but possibly close. It is upstairs resting uncomfortably on its side in its box. Several more limbs are now disattached. BUT I DON'T CARE.

I have one week left for writing. I am working on something a little different which I will share soon.



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