Murder in room-temperature blood

I killed our fridge. I stabbed it to death.

It Frosts Over Regularly
I was happily chiseling large chunks of winter wonderland out of our freezer with a hammer and a big knife the other day, when an incautious blow pierced the freezer wall, and the hissing started.

I panicked; I tried to plug the tiny hole with ice shavings to no avail. Then I tried superglue, which also failed. Shrieking, I ran in circles around the kitchen, patting my head in alarm and bouncing from foot to foot.

The hissing eventually stopped, replaced by a menacing silence.

Later, the internet confirmed that what escaped was the refrigerant gas that had, up until now, made our refrigerator cold.

To Add to My Disgrace
While chiseling, I had been playing out the scene which would occur when I showed Scott the clean, empty, un-ice-encrusted freezer and crowed at length regarding the ingenuity of my defrosting method over his (a blowdryer and patience.)

I know if this period in my life is replayed before my eyes when I die, it will be to the soundtrack of 2001: A Space Odyssey — the refrigerator-shaped monolith, the terrible burden of tools, the skull-smashing...and me throwing the knife up into the air and it becoming a space station.

Under delicate siege

It's been a banner year for Vanessa cardui, apparently.

Thousands and thousands of them have been passing through town, en route from Mexico to the Pacific Northwest.

As I drove around last weekend, I couldn't believe what I was seeing. At first I thought they were escaping from some central location, because there were just so many of them.

Later, I realized they were all going one direction.

You can stand still and count them as they fly past, fixing your eyes on a different one each second or two, and noticing the others in your peripheral vision.

If they develop weapons, we are finished.

A little snow on my euphemism

I'm going gray. Well, actually, white.

I've always had 15 white hairs in one area on my head; I noticed them as a teenager. Now, though, they are being fruitful and multiplying — one on the temple, one in the bangs, etc.

A white hair refracts a lot of light, and is thicker than my standard brown hair. I do not object to its presence.



Once I've gone thoroughly white, I will grow it out long and live in an isolated wooded thatched-roof cottage.

As a bit of red herring, though, I will only wear denim worksuits.

Don't you want some meatball to love?

Don't you need some meatball to love



Wouldn't you love some meatball to love



You better find some meatball to love


"Turkey Meatballs"
Co-starring hummus, chopped green olives, sauteed onions and dark greens.

Hmmm.

I was so enraged for much of Friday I could hardly breathe. This culminated in hysterics Friday night, which Scott was nice enough to be present for.

Saturday was wasted; the aftereffects of Friday included face swollen beyond recognition, and an absence of energy or will.

Sunday was dark and drizzly, which thwarted the long bike ride I had already dressed for. After pointlessly walking around the house wondering what I was going to do, I went for a ride anyway. I rode around for 90 minutes in the wet gray fluorescent sky: soaking in drizzle, face wet, hands chilled, exhilarated beyond description, superhuman.

Wondering if I should ditch the new pill I switched to and get an IUD.

I have a big pile of peeled baby carrots

I guess I'm just going to sit here and eat them until they are gone.

Once they are gone, I will be insane.

A return to sunity

Quite continental

Soon, I'll be able to stand up a little straighter while lying about being a worldly jet-setter...because it won't be shameful, filthy lies for much longer.


Pictured above: my first passport

Our upcoming itinerary currently includes Prague, Salzburg, Bratislava, Munich (for a football match), and Budapest.

This is pretty close to the top of the list of things that are as completely exciting as possible.

Will I be insufferable when I get back?
Only time will tell.