December 28, 1999

IF PARSLEY WERE DAILY... So many people pressure me to write more often. People I don't even know send word through others that I should update this journal on a regular basis. Two things: one, I think these people are just being polite. I mean, my journal isn't all that fabu. I think my stories amuse me more than anyone else. And really, that's who I write for--me. Two, I'm not trying to toot my own horn here. I don't have THAT many readers. It's not as if legions of people care if I update more frequently or if I continue to slog along at updating once a month. But it seems that no one can compliment my site without saying, "...but you should write more..." Since I'm on Christmas vacation and things have calmed down a little bit here, I'm going to update more than usual. I'm not going to groan and frump around until I think of a little witty story to tell. I'm going to make a laundry list, and you're going to read it. Maybe I'll like it. Maybe you won't. Then maybe you'll lay off my updating more. A lot of time I'm typing or writing and all of a sudden I notice that my hand smells good. I try to think back to any perfume I may have put on or lotion I may have used...usually I can pinpoint the cause of the scent, and I'm secretly glad to know that I smell good. I had some people over tonight because my friend Amy is in from Ann Arbor with her husband and new baby. Colleen and Amy and I were crammed into my office (which is kind of messy since I've put in two 12-hour days doing schoolwork...and when I'm in frantic work-mode, I tend to make stacks and piles all over the place) looking at some scrapbooking supplies, and Colleen was holding her daughter Baylee while we talked. Baylee is six months old and was being pretty docile--looking around, drooling, kicking intermittently. After a few minutes, though, Baylee clearly had something to say. "So when I cut out the parts of the pictures that I didn't need, I could fit more on a page, which reduced the size of my scrapbook..." "AAAAAAAAAAHHHHH! GA GA GA GA GA GA!" Baylee interrupted. "GA GA GAAAAAA!" We ignored her outburst and kept talking. "And anyway, I even threw away some pictures of people I don't care about anymore, and I got rid of some stuff that had been destroyed because my original paper wasn't acid-free..." "AAAAAAAAAAAHHH! A-ha-ha-ha!!!! GAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAAA!" "Oh my God, when you're forty, will you be sorry you got rid of those people? "Well, I can't even remember who they are today, so when I'm forty..." "HA HA GAAAA HAAAAAA HAAAAA GAAA! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" Finally we stopped talking because we realized that we were almost yelling to be heard over Baylee. We looked at her, but she just looked around innocently, suddenly transfixed by the hall light. After everyone left, Andy and I sat on the couch in the family room, too pooped to do anything else, but not tired enough to go to bed. There was no light on in the room except for candles, but the light from his office made it possible to make shadow puppets on the wall behind the couch. We spent a good amount of time making different types of puppets engaged in different scenarios until the whole show turned dirty and then we sat on the couch some more, too pooped to move. I had planned to watch a lot of Oprah over my vacation. I've only seen it once so far, though, because last week I was busy with my schoolwork marathons and then Christmas preparations, and when I tried to watch it at the health club they told me that channel 7 doesn't come in on their TVs, so I had to watch Jerry Springer while I exercised. I saw it yesterday, however, and I was very excited...Mariah Carey was on. I love her. She is one sassy cookie. Had enough yet? Ha! There'll be more tomorrow! Wanna be notified when I update? Send mail and thou shalt receive!