Who's Sending Me Meat?

Friends and family know I'm a vegetarian.  They know this because every time they put a bite of meat in their mouth I sigh and say things like, "Poor piggy," or "Cows are such gentle animals." 

I give you this bit of trivia to set the scene for what just occurred.  I, as usual, was working like a dog when the doorbell rang. (Okay, fine, I was stuffing yogurt down my face, but whatever.)  I open the door and see the Federal Express guy jogging back toward his truck.  Looking down, there is a huge, long cardboard box at my feet.  Narrow, it was literally almost an armspan in length.  And in big, bold letters on the outside it said: FRESH CUTS!

Fresh cuts? My immediate knee-jerk reaction was, "Who the hell is sending me meat?" It was only when I dragged the box inside I noticed the FTD label and smaller print announcing the box contained fresh flowers.

I have the sweetest best friend alive.  She sent me a beautiful bouquet of purple and yellow flowers.  The yellow flowers are small roses and the purple flowers are, um, purple.  I've got them in a vase on the edge of my desk along with her card congratulating me for the project I've been working on.  I am friends with good people.

So the moral lesson for the day is this: Whining will get you fresh flowers. Oh, and also: Don't eat meat.

Dena

Book Snafus

Aaargh. Why is nothing ever easy?  I got a phone call from Central Plains Book Manufacturing, the company in Kansas that is printing Lessons In Stalking.Per them, the CD I forwarded them from my interior text designer which was supposed to have the final edited text and cover on it, has only the cover.  So they're stalled on starting book production until they get the text. (As a side note, when I called CP this morning to speak to my assigned rep, I asked for her e-mail and it was one of those loooong addresses that go on for miles.  "Nothing like a short e-mail address, right?" I said jokingly.  Dead silence on the other end.  Grr-reat.  She should be really fun to work with.)

So, I've put a call and e-mail into my text designer to see what's up.  Now I wait.

As far as the new cat book I'm working on, I still haven't heard anything since I turned in my outline.  Interesting, considering the deadlines they gave me indicate the first half of the material is due tomorrow.  The situation calls to mind one of my favorite quotes: "I Love Deadlines.  I especially love the whoosing sound they make as they go by."

I've completed two of the six chapters. "Completed" assuming they approve the outline I submitted, that is.  (I love working without a net.)  At this point, I'm trying to finish a chapter a day.  It's a stretch, but I think I might pull it off.

Other news: Blair's foot is better.  He's still limping but no longer lurches like the Hunchback of Notre Dame. 

Other, other news: My ass is starting to conform to the shape of our office chair.  It's a big chair. Not a good thing.

A Day At the Creek

We spent Sunday morning working and then headed out to our property with the idea of slipping on wading shoes and walking the creek.  It's been in the mid-90's here all week and with all the trees and shade and slightly higher elevation, it's usually cooler out at the land.  That combined with water and no work  made it easy to hop in the car and go.

Here's something: Did you know rocks get really, really slippery when they're wet?  Yeah, we kind of figured that one out when we both started doing 3 Stooges like movements as we tried to maintain balance (and this in only about 6 inches of water!).  We were taking bets on who would be the first one to fall fully down and I was betting against myself when "Boom!" Blair went down, catching himself about half-way. 

"Are you okay?" I asked. 

"Fine.  Just bruised my foot a bit," he said.  We rested a bit and then went on.  We spent about another hour in the creek with no major mishaps, spotted a lot of deer tracks and the paw prints of something that could be either a small bear or racoon (I never got my nature badge in Girl Scouts), and finally made it back to the car.  Thirty-five minutes later, we were home.  Blair, who had been doing outdoor work ALL weekend in the heat, went to lay down for a nap.

I saw he was awake about 30 minutes later and asked if he wanted to go for a walk.  "Sure," he said, swinging himself out of bed.  Then he just about tumbled to the floor.

His foot is, in Southern parlance, "give out."  There's no bruising, but it is swollen.  We put ice on it but he hobbled around for the rest of the night, unable to put weight on it and from what I can see, it looks to be getting worse, not better.  We're hoping things will look better in the morning.

All in all, we got off lucky.  If he had taken a fall at the creek and actually sprained or broken something, we'd be screwed.  The car is far and away up a steep hill and we're out in the boonies.  As I mentioned to Blair when we were both first slipping and sliding all over the place at the creek, "We're not known for being the smartest of people."

I'll keep you updated on the invalids condition.  Mr. Independent will not be a happy camper if he has to rely on me for a few days.  But from my perspective...AH HA HA---the power!!!!!!!!

Answering the Phone

It occurred to me that I'm part of the last generation of people who remember what it was like to have the phone ring and have absolutely no idea who was on the other end.  That seems like such an odd thing now in our days of Caller ID and instant redial.

We have become so accustomed to checking ID when someone calls and then deciding if we want to pick up or not that I forget what it is to just hear the phone ring and just grab it.  I never do that anymore. If I don't recognize the number or it's an unknown caller, then I let the machine pick up as I listen in to see if it's someone I should talk to.

Blair has recently decided he's going to make an effort to pick up the phone whenever it rings, period. I'd like to say I'm joining him in that effort, but I doubt I'll hold to it.  I am not a phone talker to begin with (friends and family know this).  If you call me for a reason and then we end up chit-chatting, that's okay.  But I am not the one you want to call just to pass the time.  I actually get a headache if I'm on the phone for too long.  I much prefer in-person or e-mail conversations.

When Blair and I were first dating, he travelled a lot with his job.  Friends thought it odd that we were so in love, yet on the weeks he travelled we only talked for about 10 minutes on the phone each Wednesday night.  My response is thank God I found another non-phone person to fall in love with.

We know one couple that live and die by their phones.  I was over at her house once when her husband was on the way home from the airport.  He called to let her know the plane had landed.  Fine.  Then he called 10 minutes later to say he had his luggage and was on his way home.  Okaaaaaay....

Then he called fifteen minutes later to say he was about 10 minutes away.  At this point I would have pulled a gun and had it aimed at the door when he walked through.  I mean, Dear God, you're on your way home.  I get it!  Now shut up about it!

I'm also (bearing the wrath of many here) NOT a fan of it being legal to talk on cell phones in a car.  And you can yap at me all you want to about speakerphone and hands-free models, my position remains unchanged.  It's an unneeded distraction when you're traveling in a machine capable of killing you and others.

Now, in full disclosure, yes, I have occasionally used my cell phone while driving.  But rarely and I'm working on making it never.  With approximately a billion places to pull over and place a call, there's really no need.