nina turns 40

nina is a vegetable

I feel like a big heavy green blob of apathy has come and attached itself to my brain and is sucking out all my energy.  ugh! blech! blah!  Even though the most energetic thing I did all weekend was walk around a room filled with theme-decorated Christmas trees and then vote on my favorite, I still do not feel sufficiently rested to be required to function like an adult human being.

Instead why don't I bitch about the stupid, expensive, inconvenient, time-waste of a class I had to take earlier this month?  It's a legal requirement of everyone getting a divorce in this state, and I suppose that if you were like most people, and actually got a divorce sometime within a few months or even a year of separating, then it might have some wee bit of relevance to your life, but trust me, if for various quite legitimate and valid reasons (really!) you have been living apart from your spouse for coming up on five years and are only just now finishing up that pesky legal business, then this class, called, melodramatically, "What about the children?" is a huge load of crap.  Case in point:  one of the educational experiences offered up in said class?  Watching a segment of the news show "20/20".  Yes, that's right, I always wish to be educated about important legal issues in my life by some just-shy-of-tabloid quality news program.  Give me a friggin' break.  The class took place in a courtroom, which was kinda cool, as I could fantasize about being cross examined by Kevin Hill (ie Taye Diggs), but other than that, this class had no redeeming value whatsoever.  None.  And why are the elevators in the courthouse so damn tiny?  Why, I ask you, why?
OK, now I must go rest, I mean work.

obligatory post on being grateful

The thing I am most grateful for, as I lug my bags out to the car this morning and get ready to hop the ferry to Elkville, is that I get to spend the next four days surrounded by people who love me. 

for Kimberly

the five stages of horniness

We all know about Kubler-Ross' five stages of grief, but I present you with the lesser known, but no less important five stages of horniness:

Indifference--You just got laid.  You're feeling satisfied and happy.  At this point you can take it or leave it.  Thoughts of sex rarely cross your mind.

Squirrelliness--You feel a little bit on edge, but you're not sure why.  You're a bit jumpy, you find your attention span is shorter than usual.  Something just seems wrong, but you can't quite place your finger on it.

Sensitivity--All your senses are more keen, and your skin reacts to the slightest touch.  Food tastes delicious and you find yourself taking your time when you put on lipstick or lotion. You begin to notice all the sexy men everywhere,  and you start watching "Kevin Hill" over and over and over (especially the episode with Gina Gershon).

Bitchiness--There's no doubt in your mind about what you want now, it's hard to keep your mind off of sex.  Your pocket rocket is getting quite the work out, and it's a major crisis if you should run out of batteries.  Memories of steamy nights keep running through your head at inappropriate times.  You catch yourself drooling.

Predatory Stage--Everything else takes a back seat, because now you are like an animal in heat.  No one is safe, not random strangers in elevators, not co-workers, not married men.  You are on the prowl, and you WILL be satisfied.

nina turns 40 turns 2

Thus it began:

I miss getting letters. I was searching through the mess in my closet the other day looking for my passport for a weekend trip to canada, and I came across boxes of old letters, everything from love letters sent by a high school boyfriend to newspaper clippings mailed by my best friend in Mexico, and I realized I don't remember the last time I got an honest-to-goodness letter from anyone. I'm actually considering getting a prison penpal just to savor the joy of a physical envelope landing in my hands again--something tactual, and worth saving in a box. I guess I'm feeling nostalgic for older technologies now that I'm taking the plunge into blogging after years'--decades really--worth of the passionate pursuit of beautiful journals and free flowing pens.   ~~First nina turns 40 post 11/19/02

Little did I know I'd still be at it two years later.

Went to an auction/fundraiser for the kidlet's daycare this evening.  Jebus friggin' criminy, but there are some wealthy folks 'round these parts.  The house it was held in was only a block north of our apartment, but it's a steep uphill block, and they have a view worthy of a rock star--the Space Needle and city bursting all glittery right there in your face like 4th of July fireworks, and the ferries gliding by on Elliot Bay in the moonlight. serene and silent.  Dayum.  About fifty of my apartments could fit into that house.  But I don't think they've got quite the tub I have--who knows for sure, I didn't venture into any of the the bathrooms, but just to make myself feel better, I'm going to pretend they don't.  So there.

sorry folks

I've just been too busy to blog, a sad state of affairs if there ever was one.  Back soon. 

banana republican

My sister sent along this very funny parody

why old-fashioned letter openers are best

You can use them to:

Scratch your back

Stir your coffee

Hold up your hair

Threaten co-workers who are pissing you off

Stake up a plant

Oh, and they do a fine job of allowing you access to your mail.

basura

They say you can really tell a lot about a person by what's in their garbage can.  Well, I've got a dead rat sitting in mine.  Yes, the critter turned out to be nothing more exciting than your standard garden variety rat.  After notifying my landlord of the strange noises I was hearing at night, he came by to patch up the hole.  He sealed it up with what everyone knows is the best defense against animals that chew voraciously, cardboard.  Yes, that's right, my landlord in his infinite wisdom sealed up the hole with steel wool and cardboard.  Not surpringingly the bored critter did away with that patch in about two seconds flat.  The unapologetic landlord came back and sealed the hole properly, warning me to make sure I put away every scrap of food at night.  Considering that the rat had been playing around in my cupboard, and not in the kitchen itself, I was a bit wary about putting things into the cupboards, and left some freshly bought apples in a dish on the counter.

Just when I thought I was escaping the depression that seems to be gripping everyone in the "Not My President" camp, I start reading Baghdad Burning and then it's all over.  To add fuel to the fire, just as I'm typing this, I'm listening to NPR's story about civilian casualties in Fallujah.  Then, for fun, I thought I'd see what these guys have to say about it all.  Somehow, the sentiments expressed here don't seem like quite enough.