Snow! Ice! Crazy weather patterns! Isobars close like the stripes on a caterpillar! Hot damn. I LOVE this.
I've got a load I should have written about and no time and no desire. The rundown:
PUERTO RICO: Looks like a Corona ad. Beutiful. People drive like lunatics. Packs of stray dogs roam the streets. Plaintains, plantains, nachos, plantains. If you stay at the Surf and Board, bring your own clothesline, and breakfast, unless it's thanksgiving, or something. Surfing looks really hard, unless you're watching somebody really good, and then it looks crazy easy. Cruising around the ocean with a pina coloda = happy. Everybody should have a first mate. Best bar ever: Watching surf videos projected over a pool while you drink (and eat sushi). Bathrooms in Rincon never have soap. If you go out for a nice dinner, make sure you tip the server, because she will follow you to your car and shake you down if she thinks you stiffed her. Oh--and apparently everybody who vacations in Puerto Rico is from New Jersey.
THANKSGIVING: I love stuffing. I looooove stuffing. Tornadia + Stuffing 4-Eva. Mmmmm. Stuffing. Also, my family is a little bit crazy, and I mean that in an diagnostic way. But I'm glad to have them. Especially when they make stuffing.
MY BOSS: Keeps lending me CDs of girl folk singers. He must be on some sort of mega chick-folk mailing list, because I literally have seven CDs sitting here by women I've never heard of, and they all sort of sound alike. If he weren't terrified of actual women, he'd be front row at every Joni Laurence concert. I feel obliged to listen to the CDs, but I can only hear so many songs about rain before I really just need to get some work done.
THIS WEEK: I spent--and I documented my time this week, so I actually mean this--32 hours this week editing and fixing and re-editing and index. Can you imagine anything more boring than reading, really reading, a 78-page index? It's like "Schenectady, 3, 56, 72n4, 72n5, 112, 144, 15zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz." Do that, and then have long email exchanges with the person who created the index to argue that, you know, people usually look up nouns like people and places, and not so much adjectives like "aggressive." It would only have taken about 15 hours, but people would NOT leave me alone this week. Every 20 minutes somebody'd come ask me a question like "Did I put a copy of this in the file?" At which point they will follow me to the filing cabinet, while I pull out the file and check. Apparently my complicated filing system is too tough for anybody else to crack, which--hey, I understand; alphabetical order is tough. Eventually I just hid in an empty cubicle until it was done. It was a very long week.
MY UNCLE'S FRIEND DAVE: apparently died of a heart attack at some point, alone in his apartment, and it took two days before his workplace called the police and they busted in and found him. My mom told me this story last night, because, as she pointed out, "You live alone! That could be you!" Apparently my mother has never considered this. Sweet dreams to you too, mom! I countered with the well-circulated story of the proofreader who died at his desk, and it took four days before his coworkers noticed. That could be me, too! (No it couldn't. Somebody'd need to know if they filed something.)
IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE: Playing this weekend at the Virgina! You should see it! It's heartwarming! After the dismal part, that is. Alfalfa, the Little Rascal, is in it!
That's it. There's probably more, but it's Friday, I'm done with the index, and it's time to go. See ya, homes!
