Constant announcements that the tube is running a good/normal service. Is this a Ken Livingstone provocation?

v

Dude, you rock. (Note: use of "dude" signifies recognition of a masculine aspect. )

Today I am annoyed because I have to fill out my personal development profile at work, and it's REALLY TEDIOUS.

Damn. I guess this means I have to embark on a sexual identity crisis now. And I already have SO many things to do today...

Quality

Does an 18 lb. cat walking on my back count?

I think it was a muscle spasm - hopefully it will be all gone by tomorrow.

get those hot towels and apply to neck on a regular basis. resist temptation to sleep with head inclined at 45 degree angle against window or adjoining seat-back.

i rarely fly except to go home, and on international flights even economy gets hot towels (and free booze). but i'm sure the stewardesses will get you some if you ask. or just bring a towel of your own and heat it up by sitting on it.

In a word VALIUM. No muscle in your body can resist its charms. And if that doesn't work......MORE VALIUM. On the flight home from my trip to Germany last spring I slept soundly for 4 hours and without V. I could never lose consciousness on a plane, at all, ever. Leave instructions with Eyebrows that you do not wish to be disturbed and say nightee-nite.

4 hours in car??? Going to Chichen Itza?

What is there? Or, is that the idea?

Sounds inviting. In fact, sounds like it's near a place my younger brother stayed a few years back. They liked it. Think you're Ok if you've got 4WD (and a spare tire), mosquito netting, no unexpected hurricane and don't over imbibe. I'm looking forward to the stories from this sojourn. And photos if you're digital.
As for the electricity, I'm sure you'll provide the spark.

But Omni, please, please don't burn the place down.

Well, its the price you pay for having stuff with you

That is HYSTERICAL....I'm laughing out loud......

Grrrrrrrrrrr. I'd surely have a stroke.



Waking up this morning to find the cordless phone beeping, ever so quietly but annoyingly audible at a rapid and steady pace notifying me it is off the cradle and the charge is low. Add that to the click of an incoming email, the ring of someone (a screen name of "Sexygirl" at that) inviting me to an instant message session, the very loud beep from my mobile that I've missed a call and the other chirp it makes when that battery is low. I was still under the covers for at least ten minutes before the final straw that forced me upright and face my noisy, digital world with my cat squawking in front of his empty food bowl. My father changed the audible signal of his coming on line to that of an old roadster type of horn, you know the kind that is often heard in all of the Looney Tunes cartoons.

Good thing I did not opt for a third martini last night.

My sister. I feel your pain. Come visit.

Satan's Lap Dog (Bob's X), who kicked both of her children out of the house on multiple occasions (once she changed the locks on the trailer after kicking the fifteen-year-old girl in December, so that she went to live in the woods when she couldn't find a sofa or van to sleep in), presented testimonials in family court from "friends," defending her wonderful mothering abilities.

This is the same woman who let both girls drop out of high school at age 14, and have live-in lovers and in-home drug use (pot, LSD, ecstasy) under her roof...again, we're talking about fourteen-year-old girls here. She let them drive on national highways when they were 12. Because the Laws of the Patriarchy Shall Have No Dominion over a Woman.

We were in and out of family court thirteen times, and the last time, she finally "won" them, but only because the arbiter said she'd programmed them to run away from our house, that living on the streets would be preferable to living with an Evil Patriarch and his "whore" (that would be me, "a former prostitute with a prison record, who has so many johns that her daughter doesn't know who her own father is"). Otherwise, hey, our house was clearly the sane one, with the only kind of parenting the courts could endorse. But that pesky little runaway clause, well, it trumps "You don't get it: Mom's mental" any day of the week. We didn't see the girls for five years.

The bitterness is subsiding, but it's deep. I see her around town and have to avert my eyes, to protect my own heart.

Time wounds all heels, though. This year, the older one, who became a mother said, "I can't leave [the baby] with Mom [when we go on our trip]: I want him to be in good hands."

And yesterday, for the first time in nine years, we had all three girls, plus the baby and his father, for Christmas dinner. It was just lovely and sweet, and completely without incident except that my uncalibrated (new/used) oven caused the turkey to take an hour longer than scheduled to cook.

That I can deal with.

So, are you going to give the book back with a sweet little "you seem to have mislaid this" note?

Get out those cross-country skis and make it work for you!

And be grateful that you are stuck at home and not in an airport (or airports, in my case), like some of us were. It was especially distressing to me when I was sitting stranded for an indeterminate period in LaGuardia (I missed my b-i-l's birtday dinner ) with $100 worth of meat in an insulated bag. Fortunately the bag and ice packs performed admirably.

evil stepmom lesson #14: "Oh, I'm sorry, I think he's busy with his boyfriend."

Orik, that's just deliciously evil. And hilarious.