Doing The Math

I had planned this for a while,  dearest.  I said to myself, "Self, what we really need at the clusterama that is my workplace is a COOKIE JAR.  Preferably filled with cookies."  Fortunately, the other personality that was present that day agreed.  We approached Roommate with the idea.
Roommate, being who she is, was on the job immediately.  While she doesn't sprint to the kitchen the second baking projects are discussed, she is an ardent and committed shopper.  It was she, unsurprisingly, who spotted the cookie jar at a local thrift store.  She spotted it, I bought it and then, the sprint to the kitchen occurred.

(N.B.  I do not sprint.  Or run.  Or jog.  I have a car for these things.  And while I believe you might have recognized hyperbole in word choice for dramatic effect, I felt it was only right to confirm your possible suspicions.)
So I baked coconut cookies and I brought cookies and aforementioned jar to work.  Then I posted the sign. 

Then the questions started.  While I had prepared for one question, and pre-answered it ("Oooo!  May I have some cookies?") I was blindsided by the question I received.
"Did you make the cookies, Lisa Marie?"
Seriously?
Okay, okay.  Other people can bake.  Other people do bake.  Other people can and do bring things they've baked to work.  Other people are less likely to bring in a cookie jar for the cookies, but it's still possible.
But then there's the sign. 
Oh, sure, other people can do a smart-ass sign.  Coworker Vicki the Wonder Xray Tech does so quite frequently.   But the combination of baked goods, jar AND smart-ass sign pretty much points the thinking being to me.
Cookies + Cookie Jar + smart-ass sign = Lisa Marie.
See?  It's just simple math.

The Return of VNP

Very Nice Person came to town this week; his cousin got married and he attended said cousin's wedding.  Although we're no longer dating, we're still friendly, and we had the chance to hang out a bit, grab a few meals together and catch up.

This was from breakfast this morning, at the Maltby Cafe.



After breakfast, we stopped at Flower World, so I could covet nearly everything I saw.  VNP was really quite patient.  Which was understandable, given that he was working toward renewing certain aspects of our former relationship.

Dearest, I'm not saying that to be unkind, nor am I angry with VNP for this, as he was respectful and caring an interested in my while doing so.  But I have to say, I find it a bit startling.  After all, VNP is still the same person.  I am still the same person.  The dating thing didn't work before.  So why the rekindling effort?

And now my brain won't work because of massive frustration.  Mind-body connection?  Yeah.  Gosh, it's fun!

Sigh.  If someone can explain the Y chromosome type, please, please do so.  Immediately.  I think my brain is actually starting to bleed.

Change of Season

Okay, okay. I fell off the face of the planet again. I could apologize, but I've done that before. Instead, I think we should just move on.

Yes. I do. Stop glaring.

I've let too much fall to the wayside in the last several months, blogging being the least of it. But enough is enough. If I want my wish list fulfilled, I'm going to have to act on it.

1) I need to get back in the habit of Weight Watchers.

I've completely fallen off the wagon there. Yeah, I know the keys to success. But unless I actually pick them up and fit them into the locks, keys don't do me any good.

2) I have to return to the gym.

GAH. I cannot believe I typed that. The gym is a place of evil, and not the fun kind. Not the seven different types of chocolate in one dessert kind. Not the fleshy misbehavior with the really hot guy kind. Not the kind that, yeah, will send you to hell, but the trip is going to be awesome. It's just the sweaty, stinky, nasty kind of evil. And it's evil that must be done.

I just have to figure out a way to do it without needing to return to counseling afterward.

3) I must write every, single day.

It's not rocket science. I just have to do it. Whether it's a blog or one page of craptastic prose that kind fits in my sadly neglected work in progress, it has to be done.

Btw, how do rocket scientists describe things that are really, really complicated? Any clue?

It's a whole lot of change, my dear invisible friend. A whole lot.

I'm not sure I have a large enough jar.

Newfoundland Pictures!

We'll chat about this soon, but oh!  How gorgeous this place was!!!!  Perfect weather, awesome surroundings, fantastic people.  I almost stayed.  I would have stayed, but my hideous job requires that I "show up for work" in order to get paid.  Pfft!  Unreasonable much?

Here are a few of the pictures taken by my not-so-super camera phone.







Must.  Go.  Back.

On My Way!

Dearest, I've been naughty yet again, I know I have.  It's been another chunk of time apart.  Can you forgive me?  Will you forgive me?

I'm writing this as I sit in an airport, praying to an Omnipotent Comedian that the free wi-fi emblazoned on the signage dotting the long hallways will actually allow me to use the internet on my phone without having to sell an internal organ to pay the roaming charges.

That's right.  ROAMING charges.   I'm in Canada. 

Okay, I'm  barely in Canada.   I'm just over the border in Vancouver.  But I'm waiting for a flight that will take me to St. Johns, Newfoundland.

Well, I should be accurate.  If nothing else, let me be accurate, right?  I'm actually waiting for a flight that will take me to Edmonton, which will lead to another flight that will take me to Montreal, which will then let me board the flight to St. Johns.

I know.  I know!  But it was the only flight that got me to St Johns at a decent hour.  So what if that decent hour is sometime tomorrow?   So what if I'm beyond exhausted?  I'll nap a bit and be ready to enjoy a summer evening in Newfoundland!

I just have to get there first.  On a teensy, tiny little plane.

...No problem!

Live with it.

So Roommate decided it was time for me to get a haircut.  Normally, I am profoundly indifferent to hair, but at this point, my hair had gotten a little out of control.  After all, a woman of a certain age isn't always done a favor by longer hair.  The problem was, I hadn't decided on a hairstyle.

Again, normally, this isn't a problem.  The best haircut I ever got was picked out for me by my former coworker Paula and her stylist.  Paula had had a rough day that week and I told her she could pick out any hairstyle she wanted for me.  It sounds selfless and giving of me, doesn't it?

Yeah.  It isn't.  That's seriously how little I usually care about my hair, per se.  I want to look decent over all, but hair...meh.  It grows.  You get a bad cut and you hate it, it grows out.  You get a good cut and you love it, it grows out.
Anyway.  Roommate and her coworker Kelly [who does a very nice job cutting hair] flipped through some hair magazines and the snipfest began.  By the time Kelly was done, there was enough hair on the floor to make a whole new Lisa Marie.

And I had a hairstyle that makes Carol Brady

 look sexier than Salma Hayek.

Yup.  It's that...unsexy.  Seriously.  It is the hair equivalent of the mom jean.  It's not the length.  It's not the fact that my hair has a freaking mind of it's own.  It's that this cut, that looked adorable on the model in the magazine, makes me look like like Carol Brady's less appealing sister.

I'm never getting lucky again.

Ad nonsense

At what point, dearest, does one say to oneself, "I am just too freaking lazy?"

Oh, yes...when one is worn to a nub holding a book.

And look at that picture!  She's not even reading a book!  It's a couple of sheets of paper!  If she were reading the Oxford English Dictionary, maybe I could see it.  But come on!!!!

And she's got decent arms.  It's not like she's suffering some debilitating disease, fer chrissakes.

Look, I know I'm lazy.  I know I spend a fair amount of time figuring out ways of doing as little as humanly possible.  I know part of my hatred and loathing of the gym and all things exercise are related to my laziness.  But, again, come on!!!  Even I'm not this bad.

Ooo!  I just found a boundary.  How...unsettling, really.

I'd best go lie down until it goes away.