I am writing this to you from the comfort of my parents� heated home, somewhere in the frozen tundra of Michigan. They have informed me that I arrived just in time for the coldest day of the year. As much as I appreciate, and have missed, the change in seasons, there was never a very special place in my heart for temperatures registering in the single digits. I went for a run on Sunday and nearly collapsed into shock when all the capillaries around my lungs froze solid at once.
One thing I�ve managed to do since coming home, however, is to catch up on any sleep I was missing. For some reason, my body just never quite seems ready for me to drag it out of bed. I mean, when is your body ready for you to drag it out of bed, really, but this seems worse. I slept for very nearly twelve hours last night, and the same the night before. It isn�t like I�m wasting my life, thought, I guess. I�m on vacation, after all, and I don�t have a car at my disposal, so it�s not like I�m going anywhere anyway, but still. I got up about an hour ago, and I feel like I was in bed for about a hundred years.
Remember how I told you that my parents have been remodeling the, well, everything? They�ve kept at it. There is now a brand new, fancy-schmancy stove in the kitchen, just in case they decide they ever want to cook again, and an enormous microwave oven, large enough to reheat a Volvo. Also, because my mother lives in mortal fear of wasting anything, she insisted that they keep all the leftover bits and pieces from when they had the basement redone, and now the garage looks like a wholesale carpet outlet.
I have spent a lot of time already with Pussy Galore as I previously surmised, although there has yet to be any trouble. Both times I�ve seen her thus far, we�ve also been looking after her extremely energetic daughter�you know, there is absolutely no appropriate nickname I can give a three year-old girl that correlates to Pussy Galore, so I won�t even try. Anyway, she�s adorable, and has a smile that lights up a room, but after she�s been lighting up the room for about five hours, everyone else it thoroughly exhausted, and there the party ends. Like yesterday, when we spent eight hours at the mall. Eight. Hours. At the mall. I spent less time at the Louvre. I have yet to stay out past midnight.
My trip out here was relatively uneventful, save for a few snafus at the airport. First of all, I�m a little stymied by those fliers they have posted in LAX, warning people about spreading Oriental Fruit Fly. And they have a little diagram of the pernicious insect in question, too, as if you�re going to be able to recognize it and report it to security if you spot it somewhere in the terminal.
Another thing that got to me was the couple right ahead of me who seriously could not figure out what the hell they were doing at the security checkpoint. That woman must�ve had to go back and forth through the metal detector six times before she finally removed everything from her person that was setting it off. And then they stood right where everything came out of the X-ray machine so that they could get dressed again, while my stuff is popping out and I can�t reach it, and me and forty-three hundred other commuters are all lined up behind them like, �Grab your shit and move down to the end!�
And then, of course, I sit down on the plane, and the person in front of me decides that, common courtesy be damned, she�s just going to recline her seat, so there. Why to people do this? For one thing, that seat �reclines� about an inch and a half. No comfort is gained by that. For another thing, all it really does is tick off the person seated in back of you, who, for all you know, might be trying to type on their laptop. I don�t understand how every single flight I take, I get one of these people in front of me. Fortunately, I was still able to enjoy my in-flight snack: a sandwich that looked like a Happy Meal toy, a weensy bag of chips, and a dwarf apple the size of an acorn. Yum.
But I�m here, and I�m well-rested, and I�m ready for the holidays to begin. Hard to believe it�s less than a week away now. I hope everyone�s done with their shopping.
Someone Got Here By Searching For: naked Susie [Any Susie, or did you have a particular one in mind?] I�m Watching: Christmas specials. Every. Single. One. I�m Reading: This whole thing about Celebrex. If I ever need arthritis medication, I hope they�ve worked out those kinks.