Queen Mediocretia of Suburbia

Waking Up, with Screaming

Gary's scream this morning pulled me straight up out of bed where I had been submerged under the influence of heavy REM cycles. I immediately assumed the dog was dead, because nothing else could cause im to make that noise.

But then, from the bathroom I heard THUMP ARGH THUMP ARGH! Gary exploded out of the bathroom.

"WHAT?" I screamed.

"ROACH!"

Whew, not the dog. So, a roach. They live in the garage, and in the garden, and every once in a while they make themselves known. No big deal -

"IN THE TOWEL!"

"Oh! Well that's weird. Are you sure -"

"THERE WAS A ROACH IN THE FOLDS! I ALMOST RUBBED IT ON MY HEAD!"

Then he wouldn't go into that bathroom for the rest of the morning, instead he monopolized the hall bathroom.

So of course I'd just woken up and had to pee. I held out for about half an hour, but I decided to go ahead and use the Roach Bathroom. Roaches don't hang out once spotted. That roach was long gone.

I had a hunch that what he'd seen was a leaf, not a roach, so I pulled the towel folds apart AND THERE WAS A ROACH IN THE TOWEL! I punched that towel and rubbed it on the wall and steamrolled everything inside the fold.

I opened it back again. ROACH ON THE MOVE! I  cursed the softness of the egyptian cotton towels we bought for someone else who, it seems, prefers thin towels, and pounded directly on the roach until it died.

Flushed the roach. Gary plans to spray this weekend. I laundered the towels in the hottest water. I think this answers the question asked earlier on this blog, how often should I wash my towels? Not to put too fine a point on it, but you should wash towels after they start to smell and BEFORE the ROACHES take up residence.

Lingo

Gary came in the the room just now and said, "I'm watching Jennifer's Body and I'm going to start saying 'Random' - evidently it's what all the kids say."

He turned to the dog. "That poop you did in front of me when I was watching the movie? Random."

I volunteered, "'Random, much?' The kids say that too."

Next time the dog poops or pees directly in front of Gary I might hear, "Dude, random much?" instead of an inarticulate roar.

=========================================

So then, Gary challenged me to write a blog post en Francais.

"Mais oui," je parlez.
Je et Gary ecoutez Francais etoiler en Universite.
Je parlez 'Pidgin" Francais.
Alors! Ecoutez ou dites vous.
Mais certainment, Je parlez Francais et Latinam, et combien.
Cherchez: je petit parve puella.

And then he challenged me to run that through Babelfish.

" Yes, " I speak.
I and Gary listen to French etoiler in University.
I speak ' Pidgin" French.
Then! Listen to or known as you.
But certainment, I speak French and Latinam, and how much.
Seek: I small parve puella.

Let's see how far off I really was. It should have been:

"Mais naturellement," J'ai dit.
Gary et moi avons écouté dans notre classe française à l'école à l'université.
Je parle ' Pidgeon'  Français.
Écoutez la façon dont je te parle.
Naturellement, je parle français et latin, tous les deux.
Regardez : Je suis une petite fille.

Wait: Je ne parle Francais. Is that right? Oo! Dead on.

Orange Death

Lounging in bed, watching the Daily Show, start to choke. Choking makes me cough. Coughing makes me pee. Peeing doesn't make me puke, but something does, and I just barely make it to the bathroom in time.

I don't think Jon Stewart's goatee made me puke, I think it was the orange juice. Looking back at the last three times I've gotten sick, orange juice played a part. I was blaming the Filet-o-Fish and the Grits Benedict, but they were both paired with OJ.

I drink orange juice, then an hour later an orange juice bomb explodes inside and squirts out all of my cavities.

Now that I think about it  ... in the last 36 hours I've had two mugs at home and a 12 oz smoothie at work. Sooooo maybe my limit is something less than  ... one ounce of orange juice per HOUR.

Tuesday Lunch Conversation

At the table: Friends 2-4. And me. I didn't say much, though.

The topic: How would Gary act if he and I had a baby?

"Well, he'd argue with you about everything."

"Like. 'Ellen! You aren't supposed to puke that way. Here, this is how you puke.'"

"And he'd buy all the books and be The Expert on Everything."

"And argue with the doctor. And tell you how to breastfeed."

"You know he'd feed the baby leftovers."

"No, he'd go on a baby-food diet and only eat what the baby eats."

"No, he'd masticate the food like a herring gull and regurgitate it for the baby."

"In a cone shape."

Taquinez*

*French for tease.

I was emailing Gary madly today, so we could select the room in Paris, make the arrangements, set the budget.

Bad news.
Come to find out tonight the rooms we want at the hotel we want are booked for the week we want.

Good News.
We can just move it up a week! Wheee!

Better News.
When I calculated the price it was far less than our budget. Seems the advance purchase price is over 100 euros a night less. I think the Euro would have to plummet 30% for us to lose money by doing the advance purchase. And even if it does I could buy currency options to make up the loss! HAHAHAHA! I am mad with math skills. Or, as I keep shrieking at work, "I have been OUT in the SUN!"

SO there I was, MasterCard gripped in hand so I could call them so they don't think a fraud is afoot, ready to add my number and press submit, and Gary says, "Oh, wait!"

Bad News.
No, he just has to double-check he can get off on the new dates. Still, though. I was ready. Merde!

Navigation

I can't remember what show we were watching that touched on this topic. All I recall is Gary shrieking "Back to front!  Who would go back to front? That's disgusting! Ellen, you don't do that, do you?"

"Seriously? I get enough bladder infections without inviting them in."

(Stand down. That's as indelicate as I am going to get.)

Well, it occurred to me, what Gary calls "back to front" and what I call "back to front" might differ. Let's say instead the correct way is "West to East."

Let's say France is my urethra, and Belarus is my anus. No matter my final destination, I would travel the shortest distance, from the West to the East, approaching from the West.

But then today I thought I'd check, just to be sure, and I was horrified to find that the Do 2 Learn Picture cards expect me to circumnavigate the globe and approach from the opposite direction!

First of all, if I'm headed to France with no stop in Belarus, screw this. Screw this entirely.

Second, if I am headed to Belarus I am expected to head West, fly over Russia and make my descent at an appropriate angle? I CAN'T. Do you know how big Russia is?  The tips of my fingers line up with my tailbone (Japan). I can't make it to Belarus.

I thought, "Maybe I'm supposed to be standing." And it would seem www.howtowipeyourbutt.com suggests I stand for this. Of course, the dainty line drawing also suggests I get fully naked while using the work bathroom. I don't see anyone else at work taking off pants and undies. But maybe they only visit Belarus when they are at home. I don't know. All I know is I never learned this, I never asked anyone else to learn this, I don't think this is possible, I don't think this ever was possible.

The Bird is the Word

Speaking of the Verizon Wireless Sweat Lodge and Amphitheater, Saint Louis is abuzz with the shitstorm that went on there last night at the Kings of Leon concert. They played three songs and walked off.  The concert was over due to "Safety concerns."

Well, given that the Chicago trombone player had to quietly change his shirt mid-concert, and one of Tom Petty's band collapsed from heat exhaustion at the Verizon Wireless Train to Auschwitz this weekend, I thought "Safety concerns" meant "Damn it is HOT in Saint Louis," but no, a bird pooped on Jared Followill.

The bird now has a fan following and his own Twitter page.

Paying For It

"Hey, Ellen," you ask with concern, "You were out in the 90+ heat and humidity on Friday and Saturday and then again last night. Aren't you supposed to avoid the heat?"

WHO do you THINK you ARE to talk - wait. Sorry about that. You're right. I'm taking a sick day today, just like I did yesterday, and I feel guilty because it's another self-induced sick day.

I could have stayed out of the heat and I could have felt fine. Instead, I slept all day Wednesday, then I went to the concert and I'm at home paying for it.

No one else is paying for it, though. I don't have a pressing deadline today. (I suppose you could say Marcia (#3) paid for it because I did have a complex dream around noon in which I found out she summered at a psychiatric institution when she was 12, where they called her "Mershy." One of those dreams so complex you can't shake the idea it's real. Mershy.)

Still, the guilt. "You did this to yourself. This is like calling in sick because you have a hangover."

And more guilt. "If it's not too hot for a concert, then why is it too hot to weed?"

And essentially, "You're staying home so you don't get sicker, that isn't a sick day."

Or even, "They don't have 'My chin feels tingly and I'm really tired' days. They have SICK days."

Anyway, I've been awake for three hours, so it's time to go back to sleep. What are your sick day ethics? Does anyone else feel like this?

Going to wikipedia this man

Gary just shushed me!

He really likes Chicago.

Chicago does not bring the dead people

What IS this?

Whenever I'm at a concert I wonder what this stuff is illuminated by the spotlights. It isn't smoke. Can you SEE humidity?

Dear Mr. Doobie

Please stop asking us to get us and dance. It is hot here. And I, personally, like your new songs best.

Regards,
Ellen

Welcome back to the Verizon EZ Bake Amphitheater

Bang bang bang Bullets!

• Gary X. S_____ , the DoppleGary, has resurfaced. He shows up every few years when creditors call my Gary, looking for Deadbeat Gary, and we have to explain they want the other Gary. When last seen, DoppleGary had just skipped out of a mansion in West County, this time he skipped out of a beach home in Florida. As my last act on earth I'm going to buy a racehorse on credit, then when the dunning letters start I'll say, "Oh, you want the other Gary S_____, we get his bill collectors all the time."

• Here's the episode of Penn and Teller's Bullshit I think they should make:

Penn: Surrounded by naked people, "Dry clean only? Dry clean ONLY? Why don't they just make a tag that says, 'NEVER CLEAN THIS GARMENT?' Because Dry Cleaning is BULLSHIT!" [Theme music plays.]

Cut to commercial. It's a Febreeze commercial, and it actually honestly shows a woman squirting Febreeze on her clothes instead of dry-cleaning them. Because that's what I do.

• Speaking of Bullshit, did you see the episode last week about Teen Sex? They started by having each staff rattle off the age they first had sex (they were all teens, of course). I brought that up to Friends 2-4, and found #2's definition of sex was "if a private part of one person makes contact with any part of another person, that's sex." I think that's a good definition, though of course you couldn't convince me of that when I was a teenager. It made me remember how I insisted Gary and I not have sex until we were wed. Poor guy. I should have said, "What do you think we're doing? Pantomime?"

Tornadoes

Saturday I watched two episodes of Seconds From Disaster in an effort to tidy the TiVo. One episode documented a tornado that chewed up the Midwest in '74.

Usually I'm ready for tornadoes. After this episode I am on the block and poised for the firing gun. Bring it! I know what to do, what to look for, where to run.

(I was surprised to find I was wrong about one thing. I've always heard you crack the windows so the indoor/outdoor difference in air pressure doesn't explode your house. Come to find out no, that just puts you right next to the window, aka soon to be shattered flying glass.)

So, as I say, armed with that information I am soooooo ready for a tornado. Today I woke up to a National Weather Service Thunderstorm Warning.

When the thunder started in the afternoon, I bounced over to our department's fifth-floor windows. There was a lid of clouds, perfectly still except for one patch that was headed north, right next to another patch headed south. "Rotation!" I squeed to no one in particular.

I took a few steps to Kelley's cube. "Rotation!" I told her.

"Huh?" she answered. Anne's head popped over the cube wall.

"Rotation?" Anne asked with excitement.

Then we all flew to the window, but the rotation was gone. Instead there were just sheets of rain. That tornado sensed I was ready for it, damnit. I wanna tornado! Just an F1 or F2, nothing that would even flip a trailer, just something that will test my tornado skills.

History Is Made At The In-Laws

Every time Gary and I leave the in-laws, Gary's Mom, Wilma, hugs us both. His Dad, Ken, hugs me and shakes Gary's hand.

Unbeknownst to everyone, THIS BREAKS WILMA'S HEART. Today, during a loud lunch conversation she randomly announced that ALL SHE WANTS BEFORE SHE DIES is to see HER HUSBAND hug HER ONLY SON just once.

"We don't hug. It's not our thing." Gary shot her down.

"GET UP AND HUG YOUR FATHER RIGHT NOW."

Gary's Dad got up, and Wilma took that chance to up the ante.

"AND WE HAVE THREE GENERATIONS OF S______ MEN HERE AND I WANT THEM ALL TO HUG AND I WANT A PHOTO."

So our nephew, Arhan-fay, got up too. "I'm a hugger," he volunteered to his Grandmother.

Gary did not hop right up immediately, and Wilma pleaded, "Who knows if we all will be together again?"

"That's right," Arhan-fay said quickly, "I could die right this minute. We all could."

Gary got up. "HUG HIM!" Wilma yelled.

I flashed back to when our niece and nephew were pre-schoolers. I protested, "NO! GROWNUPS DON'T FORCE CHILDREN TO HUG! NO TOUCH!"

Still, Gary and his Dad hugged, and Arhan-fay leaned up behind Gary and draped his arms around everyone, and the cameras flashed to document this historic event.

Come Here, Mary J, I Wanna Talk to You

Mary J. Blige hurt my husband. Last night during the Mary J. portion of the concert, I pantomimed my opinion of Gary staring at the rear of the woman in the next row. He pulled me toward him and yelled in my ear,

"I'M NOT STARING AT HER BUTT, I'M DUCKING MY HEAD. THE NOISE IS KILLING ME. I'M RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE SPEAKER."

We traded seats. He was right, it was loud, as the Riverfront Times confirms.The sound was even distorted, and when you crackle twenty foot speakers, you must have it cranked up to eleven.

The speaker allowed me to dance, though; in fact I busted exactly one move, some articulated hip / torso thing that I was unable to duplicate, but which made the teenagers behind us stop laughing at me.

You know who can't dance? MARY J. BLIGE. Picture the Elaine Benes dance from Seinfeld without the thumb gestures. She could sing, though. I still prefer Zepplin's Stairway to Heaven, which according to her is the Number Three Rock Song Ever, so you know she watches VH1.

The warblings of Sarah M could not fully soothe Gary and I, and we felt bad all the way home. We slept all day today. Really. We went to bed at midnight and got up at 5 p.m. My head still hurts (no doubt from the horrible heat) and Gary's ear hurts. Mary J! Beyotch! You hurt my man's ear.

* (That would be Mary J. Blige, not Mari J. Uana. I told Gary I was anticipating a contact high at Wednesday's Chicago / Doobie Brothers concert. He said:

"Oh, I don't think Chicago fans are like that."

I said slowly, "Doo. Bie. Brothers."

He looked at me.

"Dooooooooooobiiiiieeeeeeee," I explained.

"Oh! I guess you're right.")

===================================================

Thanks to Elsa, I was able to analyze that last bit of drivel and find:

I write like
Stephen King

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

I think this is the most insulting badge they have. Hmph. At least I don't dance like Mary J Blige.

Sara M is so much quieter than Mary J

Who is Mary J Blige? Gary asked

Clear straps

This woman has on clear bra straps. Gary is convinced it's an entirely clear plastic bra.

Phoeey - we missed Ingrid M

These women are pretty good...

Life Isn't Always LilithFair

And why isn't it LilithFair this year? It just says "Lilith" on the tickets? Do people come expecting carnival rides? (Moustache rides?) All I expect is a stage full of women.

Evidently there will be an adience of primarily women too, a male coworker said he was looking forward to having the amphitheater bathroom to himself.

Kelly Clarkson backed out, so I hear sales haven't been good. Ingrid Michaelson and Sarah McSomething will be there, I like them. I don't even know who Kelly Clarkson is.

MINUTES LATER =================

Hey! Maybe they CALL IT A FAIR BECAUSE IT BEGINS AT 2:30 IN THE AFTERNOON. Oops. It would be a bummer if all the big acts were there at 3:00pm.

Spunky Labia Gets Desperate

Do you think Spunky Labia International Porn Star did not notice she has fallen entirely OFF the list of Lijit searches on the right sidebar?

Spunky was once the Queen of the Lijit Searches. Then BNL crept to the front, and now it seems Steven Page has overtaken BNL, and in the tussle Spunky dwindled and then disappeared!

Spunky knew it was time to re-invent herself. She touched up the polish on her big toe (albeit with an entirely different color; she thinks it's daring). She wanted to sport a latex sheath, so she sent the Appendage out for a condom. But then Mr. Appendage called and offered to buy it, and as we see, Mr. Appendage fell through, didn't he? He just came home without any condoms at all.

He offered up this nice stretchy ring, which is surprisingly comfy and cinches her in much better than a baggy condom. Look for a comeback in Spunky's future.

The Itch

I've been itching to go on vacation. Anderson Cooper's blue eyes plead for me to come see him in New Orleans. Vegas calls me. And God bless Gary, he's been making noises like Paris wouldn't kill him. He even said he was getting excited about going.

Of course, we have to use the Gary decision-making method to pick the Paris hotel, and if you recall the Honda Fit decision, that involves looking at every negative and seeing if you can talk yourself out of every option. So,with our list of finalist hotels I went to Trip Advisor, blew past pages of rave reviews, muttering "Great" "love it," "A gem" until I hit the first complaint. So now our list looks like this:

Hilton Arc de Triomphe. $XXX USD. Too far from cheese.
Hôtel San Régis. $XXX USD. Attitude.
Park Hyatt Paris-Vendôme. $X,XXX USD(!) Waitress hardly looked at me while serving my afternoon champagne.
Hôtel Le Bristol. $XXX USD. Recent homicide.

You'll notice Gary is off his chain hotel kick, thank God, especially since the Marriot was $XXX USD, Witnessed two beatings outside.

Gary now wants something directly on the Champs Elysee, (not the Marriot De La Recent Beatings) and that made it difficult. He needed to see how far half a block off the Champs is. So we got to Google maps and used the street level feature, where you double-click to scan through photos of the street at eye-level view. We "drove" from the Louvre to the Arc de Triomphe. Saw a lot of Smart Cars! And now we know how to dress.

Sadly, we discovered that just about half an hour ago and it it past bedtime now. But tomorrow, we drive through the streets of Paris in search of whores and cheese.

 

Say hello to my favorite thing ever

Not just a thunderstorm, but a power outage too! Just the tiniest bit of drama, not enough to disrupt your sleep, but enough to spice up a dull evening.

Plus, it gives enough of a challenge to make things fun. Kind of like travelling. My house is as unique as a hotel room right now.

Of course a hotel room would not come with the hysterical dog. He's been relatively calm during the storm, but now that the air conditioning has cut off he is freaking out, man.

Nature: Just Because You Didn't Have It Doesn't Mean You Missed It

My belly's been trapped under the laptop for the last few weekends, so we thought it might be a nice idea to leave the house Saturday.

Just for breakfast.

A fearsome Japanese Beetle hitched a ride then decided to fly in front of Gary while he was driving on the highway.

I could leave this to your imagination right now.

Instead, I will quote Gary directly:

"AUGH! AUGH! BEETLE BEETLE! GREEN SHIRT! Don ONEN yr MFFFFF."

Augh Augh Beetle Beetle is self explanatory.

Gary was wearing this shirt ...

 

... and, always the Biology Major, surmised the beetle was attracted to the green of the shirt and wanted to turn it into a green lace shirt, as they do.

I never knew I had Japanese beetles until this year. I blamed the aphids. We only knew Japanese beetles were a problem because we had to research why the neighbor has this on her front lawn:

 

Wait, where was I? Yes, driving 65 mph with a beetle in the car. Augh, beetle, green shirt ...

"Dn OEN yr MFFFFF." That was "Don't open you mouth." Or the beetle will fly in. Surprisingly, he didn't say "Open your mouth so the beetle will fly in!" like I'm a symbiotic organism. "The female of the species swallows the Japanese beetle, which benefits the male."

Gary rolled down the windows and I saw the beetle get sucked out, but he insisted it might have been sucked right back in the back window. We kept our mouths clamped shut until the parking lot, where we found no beetle passengers but we did find Gary had been bitten twice. Don't tell me they don't bite. They bite out of spite. He had two freshly bleeding spite bites staining his shirt.

The Old Normal

At work there was much praise from bosses, bosses of bosses, and the boss of them all. Then work ended and things went back to the way they used to be.

Almost. I don't think Gary wants to give up the complete TV control he's had the last five months. While I studied finance, Gary studied Stargate. There are only limited  Stargates, so he switched to   Charmed. (He has forgotten he has already seen every episode.)

Tonight, he called to me from the living room.

"Ellen! There's a noise!"

I remembered I was making chicken stock. (Real food. All the junk food has been foist on TeddyJ.) "It's just the pressure cooker."

"Okay. I thought it might be a demon."

=========================================

My goals for this weekend:

Weed for ten minutes

Play guitar for five minutes

Read for two hours

Tidy for ten minutes

Move Moms blog here

Get an MRI and see if I actually did grow a new lobe of my brain to accommodate all this new Series 7 information

Barbecue my Series 7 literature

Read three of Mom's old letters

Goof off the rest of the time

And go to breakfast with Gary on Saturday. It will literally be a breaking of a fast, because Gary "ate too much last night" and is punishing himself.

Yes I passed!

ZZZeeeeeeennnnnnnn

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Felt quite Zen all day. I had a nice sleep last night, and decided I was not going to take any more of those practice finals. I spent my time boning up on options instead. I then did a very fancy spreadsheet, too fancy even to explain, which extrapolated what my scores would have been if I knew then what I know about options NOW. And in the extrapolation I got an 82% which equates to a good chance of passing. See how I turned that around? I could have taken a final and gotten perhaps a 79% this time; but instead I duped myself into believing I would have gotten an 82%! My new Native American name? Lies With Math.

So, I have yet to do the big run-through of all the Wee Notecards, and I want to re-draw my formula practice sheet a few more times, then I'll get a good sleep tonight and be ready to go.

I am one with the -  NOOOO GAAAAAAHHH I WON'T MAKE IT PRAY FOR ME!!!!!! HELP!!!!!

Breathe in.

UPDATE: How Zen am I? It's 11:39 the night before the test and I dropped my glasses and they broke.

But I fixed them, and packed two spares.

Open the Pod Bay Door You Dumb Motherf -

This is how it stands:

I have studied for ten straight hours today with one goal in mind: Get a score of 90 on the Options chapter exam. I've been getting 80 the last three passes, including the one I just finished, even though I pointed at the screen and muttered, "81, you bastard."

"80!" it replied.

I think this program has artificial intelligence. In the Fed chapter it would not shut up with Keynesian and Monetary Economic theory questions and now? Oh, not asking me THOSE questions anymore, not a one.

Also, I've noticed that I tend to get identical questions now, in a row, as if they are filler questions. "What is the advantage of buying a call?" (unlimited profit) followed immediately by "Which call position gives you unlimited profit?"  (buy a call) and "Here are four option positions, all have limited profit except ______" (all together now).

So I think it's just evaluating every question and either replacing it with something IT KNOWS I know OR else it throws a question at me I have never heard, like "If a short seller has a Buy Stop position can he also Sell a Call?" (no idea)

See, it's thinking and switching things around so I can never get an 81, much less a 90. Bastid.  I am getting that 90.

Creative Writing

Every time I get a question wrong on these practice tests, I make myself a wee note card (size of a business card), and I rephrase the question I missed, and give the correct answer on the other side.

Like so:

"Q: Hey, that question about REITs and developers, did that CHANGE since the last time you took the test?"

A: "NO, dumbass."

Why I Am Up At 2:47 am

Why? I took a practice final. And I got a 72%. This is Not Good. They say scores in the 80s are what you need to pass. Gary comforted me that I had taken the test from 10:30pm to 12:30am, and I would be fresher on Wednesday.

So I lay in bed from 12:30 to 2:30am, wondering what I'd need to focus on to crank my score up by 8%. "Taxes?" I wondered. "Economic Theory?" I leave the table at lunch when people are calculating the tip because I hate thinking about money just that much, and now, fuck me, I'm taking the Official I Love Money Exam. And then my soul died.

So I gave up on sleeping so I could see where I should focus my studies tomorrow. Focus, which I had not done when I looked at my score before, because it's actually 77%. See? I'M NOT GOOD WITH NUMBERS.

Hah! Perhaps tomorrow when I look at it it will be 87%.

A Thought I Just Thought

"You know what's interesting? Federal economics." I just thought that thought.

When the Fed and how they jack with the discount rate in order to jack with the prime rate in order to tweak the economy is the most interesting thing you have encountered today, you know you have sunk to a new low.

However, Mel Gibson is also interesting. I know we turn a blind eye to entertainers with flaws, but what if that flaw is a brutal dead and loveless heart?

Discuss. I'll be here learning the about Commercial Paper. Actually, that's interesting too, a firm in town got raided by the SEC for their commercial paper practices.

Sooooo... I'll be here learning the about Yield curves. Is anything interesting in your lives?

I Am A Learning Machine. Or an Animal.

I'm not going to put on a bra until next Wednesday morning when I go for the test.

I think I'll shower ... Sunday and Wednesday.

I'm having cravings like a pregnant woman and Gary, the sweetie, is obliging me. He went out last night for cheese hot dogs. After today's chocolate popcorn and Fritos I demanded a "salad." He brought back an excellent salad, only it was covered with a wall-to-wall carpet of sliced pepperoni. I rolled that up and stored it in the fridge.

I made such progress today that I feel almost too confident. The last two nights I've been waking up with nightmares. Not good, plot-driven nightmares, just the ones when you wake up with a start, gasping. I did well enough today that I think I'll sleep well.