Bowie

I love David Bowie. Like, it's almost not ok. I want him to come to my house and talk to me while I mop the floors or something. We can go yarn shopping together. He could record my answering machine message and I would make him dinner. He could help T winterize the garden. Work on the Jeep.

Ok, enough weird fantasies for one blog entry.

You know what's funny? Forcing people to back pedal. It's awesome.

I need to work out again today. Yesterday was 'light duty' day, so we only went running and did an assload of crunches. It's super windy right now, so I don't know if I'm going running today. Maybe I'll run the vacuum with extra gusto.

T hung shelves in our guest room, and they're super awesome. As soon as he was done, I went in and covered them in photos and stuff, took a step back, and disappeared into our bedroom. Came out, put the 'finishing touch' on the shelf, and was happy. What was the finishing touch? A stuffed zombie. He's a plush toy--His body comes apart, he has a brain in his hand, it's SO COOL. (We sort of collect zombie stuff. Ask me about my new stand mixer sometime.) Hey, I gotta keep it real, right? Can't have too much class in one spot--it's our house we're talking about here. Maybe I'll take pics and post them. Hell, maybe I'll do that now.





So those are totally in backwards order. Whatever.