Meandering Monday (or: Another weekend, please)

Take one down, pass it around ...

Three bottles of wine + friend + me + an ill-advised pizza = the kitchen floor, because it's so nice and cool, and it's the only thing in my kitchen that doesn't seem to be spinning or lurching. Friend's husband, upon picking her up to take her home, said that despite a rough night at work, seeing me on the floor like that (eyes covered, feet propped up on a chair, ice pack on my neck) pretty much made up for it. Glad to have improved your night, sir.

I am happy to report that the last time I got sick-drunk is still over five years ago. Curse you, Captain Morgan. Curse you.

Wine, you are still my friend. Just not in those quantities. And I love ice packs. And water.

And "Alice in Wonderland" was pretty wonderful. Frabjous Day, indeed.

Second time through

I'm re-reading the Twilight saga, and this time around, my recurring thought is: Seriously. How thick can this girl be? Other than that, I'm enjoying them. Again.

When men suffer from PMS

There's Boy A, and there's Boy B. One thinks the other doesn't like him. At all. Could be. I have no idea. But to listen to the whole thing being hashed out reminded me more of hanging out in the bathroom before school started in junior high, gossiping with my friends about who wasn't friends with whom that day. Hello again, 13 years old.

A Massacre in Hank's World

We run a Hank the Cowdog Series every week, titled "Hank the Cowdog and the Valentine's Day Robbery," and I have to make a conscious effort to type "Robbery" and not "Massacre." Such is my imagination, though, that I have to wonder how a Valentine's Day massacre would look on Hank's sleepy, safe little ranch ...

On the right foot ... and rather chubby

Haven't worn heels since Wednesday. Haven't worked out since Tuesday. Foot still feels sore, but not alarmingly sore, so I'll wrap it tonight and see how things go. I'm still wearing flat, safe, ugly shoes that don't make me any taller than I already am. We'll see.

Sadly, not working out has not equated to not eating lots of food (pizza ... wine ... pizza ... cheese .. chocolate ... Mexican food ... and so on ...), and now I'm worried. Need to get back into the swing of things. Or, rather, the step of things ...