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July 1, 2002

It's HOTTER THAN MY ASS in this town! What the hell is going on? Is anyone else concerned that our planet is probably going to BURN RIGHT ON UP soon?

Hotter than my ass!

Hotter than my ass!

Hope you're not reading, Mom!

Quinn's down for her third nap of the day. Along about a month ago, she decided that instead of two long naps, she'd rather have three short naps. I don't know who told her that SHE is in charge.

So her last nap is right now--dinner time. Which is fine with me. Because I'm making dinner. I am. Right now, I'm cooking. Well. Maybe not. But I have a plan for dinner! I do!

Do you think it would be gross to serve teriyaki chicken with chicken-flavored Rice a Roni?

Do you think I care what you think?

Ha ha!

I would have updated last night, but I was in IMs with Wendy discussing the Brady Bunch. TVLand was having a little marathon of all the singing/dancing episodes. Could anything on this planet (this burning, ill-fated planet) have my name on it more than a Brady Bunch marathon of singing/dancing episodes? COULD IT?

I say: nay.

My niece Maureen got to see the dorm she's going to live in when she goes away to college.

"It has a fireplace on either end of the lobby, and there's a piano..."

I burst into laughter at that point, picturing the lobby of the dorm I lived in my freshman year of college. What a dump! A couple of big, long orange sofas sat upon a little platform right in the middle of the room. There were vending machines (maybe two) from the 1970's. The lobby connected four wings (A, B, C, and D) and we called the people who hung out down there (and oh yes, they did, in their bathrobes and curlers and with their loud, loud, guffaws) "lobbycats." After tailgating one afternoon at the beginning of the year, my friend Anne stumbled into the lobby, made her way over to the front desk, and slurred, "Isssthis Douglas?...I live in B." Then she looked at the desk attendant until he pointed her in the right direction.

So yeah, Maureen has fireplaces and a piano. Probably gift-wrapping services at Christmas time, and valet parking. I'm picturing her living in Nordstrom.

That's all fine.

I have to go make dinner. If you all would persuade Andy to hook me up with some blog software, I could update this journal a lot more frequently with literary treasures such as the one you just read.

Thank you all for coming. You know the way out. Goodbye.