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Yes, I know. I'm a blog slacker. A slacking blogger. A "slogger," if you will.
Looking for a job is nearly a full-time job in itself, particularly in November, when it seems this entire country's collective mindset is so focused on the holidays that all else gets filed away under "deal with in January." I don't care what your beliefs, it is downright unholy for wreaths to be displayed the week before Thanksgiving (let alone right after Halloween--I think that clearly violates Geneva Convention standards for torture).
Luckily, I have some freelance work to get me through until the job market picks up again, which I expect (and hope to bloody hell) will happen in January.
I've been doing a good deal of reading, considering how much time I've been spending in airports and on planes (see below). Oh, and I was recently introduced to the TV show Weeds, which I had never seen (despite numerous recommendations from friends) and which I have thoroughly enjoyed. We only rented the first half of season one, though, and I don't get Showtime, so it'll have to be strictly a rental diversion. Thankfully, there are no other TV shows I watch regularly, so I can give my full attention to Mary-Louise and the delicious Elizabeth Perkins.
Grandma's been released from the hospital, recovering at home with the aid of a small army of medical and domestic help. I made another trip there 2 weeks ago, along with my mom, who went again last week to help Grandma make the transition home. We hope her recovery will speed up nicely now that she's out of that cold, sterile institution and back in her own lovely house. Oh yeah, and we're sick to death of Las Vegas.
Unfortunately, being sick of airports does me no good when I have a few more trips to make before the year is out: flying to Reno tomorrow night (yes, I realize that's after the typical Thanksgiving feasting period), then to L.A. to spend Christmas with the boyfriend's family and see friends, then back to Vegas soon to visit Grandma. One of these days I hope I'll get to go someplace not within the west-coast Bermuda triangle.
Speaking of the boyfriend, today is his birthday. He is still younger than me. (Or younger than I, if you're a grammar cop.) He displayed his ever-deepening maturity on our visit to the Exploratorium on Saturday...
(It's an exhibit about conflict within the mind--one example is drinking from a sparkling clean fountain that just happens to resemble a toilet. Interesting how it fucks with your head.)
As promised, a few more Connecticut photos here.
Short on time today, but I had to mention the best Halloween costume I saw yesterday (amidst a sea of costumed workers walking past me throughout the day):
A woman about my age, a bit curvier than myself, dressed in that famous blue dress and crisp white apron we all know and love. Yes, I saw Alice from "The Brady Bunch" buying a cup of joe at a downtown cafe. This woman wore it perfectly, too--the blue dress and apron, white nurse's shoes, grey hair in that 70s old-lady curls-atop-the-head 'do. Classic.
Yes, we enjoyed Tuesday night's earthquake--we were sitting on the bed talking when all of a sudden, there's that telltale rumble. We look at each other, wide-eyed, that silent "are we having an earthquake?" look on our faces as we look around the room, watching it all shake like Shakira's hips, plant leaves swaying, kitties with pupils as large as baseballs, imploring us to stop moving the room back and forth so they can get back to the important business of licking themselves. I'm just glad I wasn't in the shower. Or on a BART train, racing through a tunnel underneath the San Francisco Bay. Call me crazy, but that just does not sound like something I'd like to experience in my life.