A newsy letter/ chitchat/ nothing more

There were a few days in the past week when it wasn't too cold to be outside.
I think it was Sunday that Scott got busy pruning the caragana bushes and I finally got the main flower bed cleared of last year's dead stalks.

But now it's frigidly cold again. Friggin' freezing. Today when I left the office to get a cloth bag from the car to walk to the store for something to eat, by the time I crossed the street to get to the car I had decided to hell with this shit, I'm driving. Even if the store is only two blocks away.

This, from a person who tsk-tsks at the lazy fools who drive from one place to another in town when they don't have 20 bags of groceries to carry. Goes to show: being holier-than-thou, ever, is plain stupid. People have their reasons. I'll try to remember.

If it doesn't snow, I'll be surprised. Even the frogs are quiet. I bet they've dug themselves deep into the mud again.

After work I went to Everett's, as usual on Thursday nights in not-summer. He wasn't feeling well and, though he felt like sleeping, thought he'd best try eating something. It didn't help, so he went to bed and I came home. No Torchwood for us tonight. No Captain Jack! No Gwen with the lovely lilt! (And yes, Captain Jack is handsome enough, okay. But Paul Gross is still the best-looking man I have ever seen. Next to Scott, of course.)(And I say this -- not always aloud -- every time I see Paul Gross in Slings and Arrows on TV. I always think it.)(Last night I couldn't help myself and out it came, so I asked Scott, "Is there one woman you see in film or TV who stands head and shoulders above the rest, for you, beautywise?" and he said "Not just one." Maybe if I spent any time actually thinking about this, some other names would come up. But I don't. Just ... whenever I see Paul Gross, I'm gobsmacked by his good looks.)

Anyway, instead of watching Torchwood or Sherlock with my boy, I'm drinking red wine, eating toast with peanut butter, and listening to Beck (thanks to a link on the blog "Laundry Hurts My Feelings," a title that cracks me right up; best title ever). It is past 10 and I should go to bed, but I won't fall asleep before midnight anyway so what's the point.

Although I could continue reading Eugene Stickland's first novel, The Piano Teacher, which I'm keeping on my night table. What an excellent idea. À la prochain, mes amies!

As for the title I've given this entry, it's like I told Eugene once when he was asking for intellectual responses to books, "Don't look at me! No intellectual here ... I'm reading Wind in the Willows right now!"

He thought I was kidding. I wasn't.
What I am is smart enough to know I'm not as smart as I think I am.

P.S.
No sooner did I mention the sora (writing yesterday's post, not this one, which I wrote last night), than I heard it this morning. Woo hoo!