I haven’t been writing because I’ve been doing other very important things, like
1. turning myself fuchsia in Ye Olde Sunlight, with whom I haven’t been acquainted since I began sitting under flourescent lights for upwards of eight hours a day. 1a. attempting to explain to my African-American coworkers who are new-ish to Whitebread, Indiana, why white girls in Indiana frequent places called “Tanning Salons.” (We BTP without saying so explicitly.) 1b. attempting to explain the baffling appeal of “Mist-ic Tanning Salons” to increasingly smug coworkers, who chuckle and threaten to smack my alarming red neck.
2. cleaning out the pond all by myself, without anyone harassing me, except for the cardinals who are nest-building in the dogwood.
3. chasing feline escapees around the backyard.
4. discussing the finer points of YA Fiction with my young reader.
5. reassuring my young soccer player that he was indeed “aggressive” on the field.
6. reading books with made-up stories that require use of my imagination, and finally (FINALLY!) getting around to A Handmaid’s Tale. 6a. thinking of writing fiction again.
7. avoiding wedding-related conversations since I find all the fuss having to do with one single party pales in comparison to planning one’s legal and personal life with another much more important. Figure, that.
8. convincing Chef to do away with Mozilla-Pujols (which he is pitifully attached to) and begin to call himself Oflauren, which is definitely more snappy.
9. wondering what sort of gift would be appropriate for a coworker I really like who is, to say the least, down on her luck and could probably use a smile even if the gesture is small.
10. watching The Sopranos, starting with Season One. I feel so behind.
Finally: Yesterday I talked to a guy named Daniel Boone, and briefly had a conversation with a man named Pete Tater, and at the time I considered what it would be like to grow up with a last name like Tater, and later whether or not I would hyphenate a name like Tater.
Tater-Pujols.
Ahem…
I could’ve sworn we had agreed to adopt the last name ‘Holland-Oates’.
List Time!
1. I’m in the sun when I walk from the bus stop to a building, then from one building to the other or the shade of a tree. I’ve gotten weird lately with being in the sun for too long. Sometimes, I really do think I can feel my skin cooking. Be safe. 1a. I’ve seen many a gal go from white to that weird I’ve-been-baking-myself-brown to WTF in just a semester’s time. 1b. What is a ‘mist-ic tanning salon’? The spray-on tan?
2. Yay to getting over a fear (or, revulsion)!
3. Ever thought of getting - or making - a cat pen?
4. Getting him acquired with holes already, eh?
5. What is he worried about? He’s aggressive even in the backyard!
6. Let us know what you think of it. I haven’t gotten to that one yet. 6a. IT’S ABOUT GODDAMN TIME.
7. Word.
8. Oflauren! Oflauren!
9. A great card; not enough info to compute
10. When you get caught up, let us know so we can have Sopranos & Wine Nights.
Finally: Daniel Boone - Was this a life goal? (You said ‘Tater’.)
Oflauren? Why not DeLauren? Plus you get the added bonus of sounding a lot like the name of the car in Back to the Future!
Well, OfLauren beats Ofchef, which makes you sound like one of Stalin’s henchmen.
And I watched all of the Sopranos episodes, seasons 1-6, in the space of a month. Wife and I did eight in one sick day at home. Hooked.
I am willing to give up Oflauren if we can agree to Holland-Oates. Pinky swear.
Holland-Oates is awesome! Among other things, I at least no idea who was Hall and who was Oates, and I’m assuming everyone else is the same. So it perfectly symbolizing your blissful, gauzy matrimonial union.
After 3 solid years of working three jobs and getting virtually no sun, I developed a sun allergy. Thankfully I seem to have gotten over the most trying period but sun has to be limited for the rest of my life. So the doctor says. Now I embrace the pale ghostlike shade that is my legs. Saves on white pantyhose. *ahem*
I find flowers are always welcomed. It’s one of those things people rarely get for themselves and only seem to get around birthdays or funerals. It’s nice to get them for no reason at all.
I used to work for a woman who was nicknamed Tater-tot by an assistant who, obviously, didn’t think highly of her. I liked the woman well enough but for the 8 years that I worked for her, in my head, she was almost always thought of as TaterTot. Simply because it made me giggle.
Being a Southern girl, it seems we always had double names and/or cute little nick names! Did I say “cute”? Not sure if it was or not, but it was all pretty taken in stride at the time:
Bo-Peep
Bobo
Itsy
Puddin’
Lovie
Guy names:
Manny
Buzzy
No Tater Tots, though.