If you're a fatty and you know it, clap your hands

I swear my kittens just clapped their little paws. Bess was snuggled up all cute next to me on the couch, when Jorge comes running in and wedges her massive self "between" Bess and me. I say "between" because it more like "on top of Bess until Bess moved over." Now Jorge is stretched out across an entire couch cushion and poor little Bess is banished to the floor. Jorge is very demanding when it comes to attention, especially attention given while she's laying on the couch. She has laid directly on my computer while I'm sitting here because I had the audacity to only pet her on the floor and not bring her up into my lap. Brats. Both of them.

Speaking of the girls getting very snuggly, now that it's cold at night, they like to sleep even more ON MY PILLOW than they already do. Last night was cold enough that it felt like home. The low was something like
29; it was 37 or something when I left at 8:45 this morning. Unacceptable. This is Florida, for crying out loud.

I wore real shoes (if you really consider flats real shoes)to work, but I didn't wear a jacket. Just a long sleeve turtleneck (not even a sweater). Some people at work though wore coats and scarves and are saying they want to put space heaters in their cubes. Pansies.

The Boy is excited about coming home with me in December, but also kind of not excited because it's going to be effin cold. Mom ambushed him last night when I was on the phone with her and asked if she could talk to him. I was like "Oh he's busy. His hands are full. [Other excuses.]" and she was like I'll wait! So they talked, and after he was like, "Maybe next time can I get some warning?"

I'm Giving Thanks with his family next week and trying to think of something to bring. His mom said I don't have to bring anything, but I feel funny coming empty handed. Apparently the whole family is on a diet ("Hi, I'm Elizabeth. I've never been on a diet and thus only know how to cook fatty Southern food. I do best when the recipe requires more than a pound of butter. Nice to meet you [y'all]!"), so that really limits my options. I'm thinking banana bread or something safe that doesn't necessarily have to go with the actual meal. Between that stress (mild though it is) and work stress and my usual high level of stress over nothing, my digestive system is rebelling against the rest of my body in a bad way. Happy Thanksgiving!

UPDATED: Eating half a bag of Swedish fish does nothing to aid in the recovery of normal digestive processes. Make note.


As long as it's not a cuckoo clock

So this weekend I went with The Boy to a work get-together at his boss' house, and everyone who was there has at least one kid, and some of them even brought their baby (or three, in the case of one of his co-workers whose poor wife popped out triplets). It was a little awkward, as The Boy and I neither are married nor have babies. But one of the babies was ultra precious and pretty cool, and we played for a long time. I mean, I pretty much ignored most of the adults and just had fun with the kid.

And last week a co-worker brought his daughter to work, and she's maybe one of the cutest baby I have ever seen and she kept looking over her shoulder and kind of raising her eyebrow at us really skeptically, and it was hilarious/endearing.

And then I looked at this (one of my favorite bloggers' Flickr stream), and now my biological clock is all TICK TICK TICK TICK TICK.

Ugh. This is my life.


How to keep newspapers alive

For as long as I can remember, I've been a bathroom reader (Exhibit A: Here), and I actually used to get in trouble for stashing American Girl magazines under the clothes hamper in the old house. I would go to the bathroom when I should have been doing chores or something and just sit and read. I would also sit and read when I was doing other, normal bathroom business. My brother is also a bathroom reader, as are most of my friends. I'm pretty convinced that almost everyone I know is a bathroom reader. If you say you have never read something in the bathroom, you're lying. I just won't believe you.

Anyhow, I've realized that bathrooms are the reason print journalism will survive, despite the current situation. How did I come to this realization? Wireless Internet is a dangerous thing, friends. I was sitting on the couch reading my favorite NYT column online, but I didn't want to give it up while I ran to the bathroom. Solution? I brought my computer with me.

While this might be a little too much information for the masses, I consider it a public service announcement. So I did my thing and finished reading the column, but I have to say bathroom reading on the computer is not the same as a magazine or newspaper or book. I suppose it's all about personal taste, but the computer doesn't really do it for me. You can't just keep it in the bathroom, and if you've got to make an especially long trip, you run the risk of the battery running out. There's also the issue of making sure you set the computer down in a place that won't get wet while you wash your hands. Granted, you have that same issue with a newspaper or magazine, but those cost a few dollars max, not a couple grand.

So, newspapers and other print news outlets should market themselves as the only reading material that accompanies people to the bathroom. Maybe some people prefer the computer, but I don't think it's anything I can ever get used to.