Flurries

Flurries are coming. People in Minnesota and Maine and Russia will laugh at me, but I’ve been freezing my bootie off for months now. Today I wore mittens. Inside. (It’s only in the 30s here in DC – but to a Southern California girl – Brrrr!) This afternoon I actually looked into driving to Florida, but it is 16 hours away and raining there anyway. I think what they say is true – live in LA and your blood thins. Speaking of, last month when I was visiting LA the temperature dropped to the fifties one night. That’s about as cold as it ever gets there. “It’s so nippy,” I overheard a woman say. Now there’s a gal who thinks like me.

Blue and Fluffy

Meet Greg.

(What can I say? I ask the guy to send me a picture and this is what I get.)

Greg has a blog, Alien Righteousness, and the other day he e-mailed me joke: What’s blue and fluffy?

I don’t know if I was in a strange mood, or if Greg simply gets my sense of humor (he is my brother, after all), but when I read the answer I started cracking up.

“What’s so funny?” Ron asked.

"A-HA. HA HA HA. Greg sent me a HA HA HA a jo, a jo, HA HA a joke! HA HA HA." I tried to repeat it: “What’s blue and HA HA HA HA. What’s blue and fl- HA HA HA.”

I gasped for air. I was laughing so hard my voice squeaked. “What’s blue and fluffy?” I finally spat out.

Just thinking of the answer sent me into hysterics again.

“A bluebird?” Ron said.

I couldn’t speak I was laughing so hard. A good guess, but I shook my head. “No,” I gasped.

“Blue fluff!” I screeched and started cracking up all over again.

I’m pretty sure Ron didn’t think the joke was quite as funny as I did (he kept saying "What's blue fluff?"), and maybe you don’t think it's funny either, but I love those belly-roll moments so much I thought I’d share it.

P.S. Send your blessings to Greg - he's about to take another bar exam (he's already passed in one state and is going for two).

P.P.S. I'm still blogging over at WASA, so come say hi.

I Just Gotta Be Me

Me feets.

Me pants.

Yep, that’s right; I’m wearing jeans and comfy shoes (so cozy – they even have fuzzies inside to keep my toes warm). Every morning I put on my jeans and shoes (and a top a course) and arrive at my new corporate job/gig. It’s the kind of place with marble floors and ground to ceiling windows. A place with lots of red tape and, I’m sure, a dress code. But as a contractor, I’m wearing my outfit. The days of shoving my feet into cold, painful heels? Over. I’m done with foot cramps. And spending my hard-earned money that I’m scraping together as a freelancer on suit pants? Um . . . hmm . . . that would be a NO! If I do part with it, I’m splurging on a tasteful pair of jeans.

So far no one has given me any grief. Maybe publishing people are different than lawyer people?

Couch Potato

1. Sleeping bag
2. Stack of magazines (Yoga Journal, RD, and Body & Soul)
3. Page-turning book (Manic)
4. Television clicker
5. And hot tea

I camped out on the couch all weekend. It would’ve been lovely except for the sore throat, runny eyes, and sneezy nose.

Last Monday I started a stint at national newspaper to do some freelance editorial work. It’s fun, and only a six week commitment, but I guess my transition back to the corporate world was a shock to my system. I’ll write more later. Right now I’m going back to bed. G’night.

Hearts

Happy Valentine's Day.

Any writers interested in pitching articles about dating, romance, and the single's life can check out my piece How to Pitch: Happen magazine on Mediabistro.com.

Then stop on over at Fully Caffeinated to wish Carrie a happy birthday. Her blog rocks.

love.

Simple Plans

What are we going to do for Valentine’s Day?

“Let’s build a fire,” I said. “Cuz we said we’d use the fireplace when we moved in, but haven’t touched it yet.”

“Yeah, and I’ll grill a steak,” Ron said.

“Oooh, and I’ll get cupcakes from Buzz*,” I said.

“And we can open the organic wine we were given for Christmas,” Ron said.

"And we can read each other poetry," I said. "Maybe passages from Solomon’s Song of Songs.

Beloved: Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love is better than wine . . . . How handsome you are my lover!

Lover: Behold, thou art fair, my love. Thou hast doves’ eyes within thy locks: thy hair is as a flock of goats that appear from Mount Gilead. Thy teeth are like a flock of sheep.

"Your teeth are like sheep? Your hair like goats? If I said that to you, you'd clock me!" Ron said.

Well, maybe. But if we're reading poetry, it'll make me blush.

So come the 14th, it looks like we’re keeping things simple (and rather biblical) around here.

What’re your plans?

*Buzz is our sweet little neighborhood bakery.

The Sonogram Technician

I wrote a poem, I told Ron.

A poem? he said.

I know. Can you believe it? I said.

What's the title? he asked.

The Sonogram Technician.