It’s way too easy to chat this way. I used to avoid chattiness but now i am having conversations like this all day

me: exactly
I need a nap. it’s a damn shame having to come to work after getting a massage

Sylvia: I need a nap too.
But I am gonna try to send out an application to the Seattle Aquarium!
Yeay, fishies!

me: YAY! You could tell them about how you were teaching about sharks and a student said :Ms. J, are you part black”

Sylvia: lol!
Oh yes!
That would TOTALLY get me the job!

me: Can you put “rocking ghetto bootay” on a resume?

Sylvia: Prolly not…. Might not be as well recieved as I’d hope.

me: You never know. I am thinking my next resume should include something about my cougar skills

Sylvia: rerow!

for every time a boy offered to “fix” a computer for me even though they know that I run a fricken computer lab- I’d be rich.

In conjunction with

Sometimes I feel like my brain is one of those whimsical Rube Goldberg machines and that it takes the longest possible root to the most elegant explanations. And sometimes inspiration lands on my like a piano out of a window.

I’m in the middle of a Rube Goldberg thing at the moment.

As a kid, politics was the religion of my house. We spent Sundays watching Meet the Press and reading the paper. My mom always told me that politics is not a spectrum from left to right, but a circle where the right and left eventually met in totalitarianism. It was her argument for the moderate middle, and I believed it for a long time.

But now I don’t see that it makes any sense unless you are arguing for moderation. I think that the left’s attempts to appear moderate have sent us running to the far right in an effort to keep at a constantly changing mid-point.

What I have decided is that there is a spectrum for policy and another, independent one for execution.

You can have lefty dictators (Stalin) though the nature of conservatism is one that is likely to limit access to power and policy making, there must be a few conservatives out there who actually respect the idea of pure democracy (just because I have never met one doesn’t mean they don’t exist).

That’s what I’ve got so far. Now all I need is a candle that burns through a string that then releases a spoon that launches an egg that falls in a hot skillet that catches on fire and sets off the smoke alarms that make the whole thing more clear in my head. Simple- no?

The turkey is bathing in a liter of wine and butter
the green beans are blanched
the cranberries are sauced
the portabellos are marinating
the salad dressing is made, though the salad is not

I still have to make the stuffing, eggs, potatoes, yams. Finish the beans, mushrooms and salad. I also have to do laundry, beat the Kid into vacuuming, and misc other cleaning stuff.

And because a former stable boy (hot, brilliant and 10 years younger than me) has just come back into town and is coming tonight I need to bathe, shave my legs, change my sheets and clean my room and my bathroom. The turkey may not be the only thing getting stuffed tonight. Meow.