Okay, so

Maybe I won’t be going to Montreal next week — boo! I have lots of travel un-arranging to do for work because of that whole WOMMA thing. I thought it was at the beginnign of the week, and it’s actually at the end of the week. Par for the course.

In other news, no celebrity sightings today, but I did get the best presents in the mail:

1) a HUGE box from my Aunt Eunice! It was full of yarn, yarn, some yarn, yarn, and more yarn. I am so excited to get to work on making more goodies — I just figured out how to knit in the round without it coming out crooked, so socks for everyone this Christmas. There are pinks and oranges and greys and reds … all of a quality I would never buy for myself. Plus, she sent me some works in progress that I can either take apart or finish (I’m taking it apart, because, I mean, come on — I’m not trying to cable knit anything!); and

2) RAT POISON! My mom and dad are accessories before the fact to the death of Ferdinand and his brothers. On the one hand, I feel like a loser that my Saturday is going to be all about poisoning the mouse. Well, actually it will be like this:

* Get up
* Walk Lou to the coffee shop & buy a large w/3 Equals
* Come home, drink coffee while watching 2 episodes of Living Single on Oxygen Network
* Do Hemalaya Behl’s Morning Quickie Yoga workout
* Map out a strategic plan for placing poison around the unit
* Place poison according to plan
* Work on WOMMA presentations while keeping one eye on the closet to see if Ferdinand or one of his friends comes out, tiny claws clutching the throat saying, “I see the light”, or “Elizabeth, I’m coming”, or “Rosebud”.

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Can’t Sleep

So much work to do, so little time. I submitted 2 papers for review/consideration to present at the WOMMA (word of mouth marketing association) conference next week, and they both got accepted. This is hilarious, I mean, HIGH COMEDY. Who am I? A frustrated anthropologist, passable pianist, good cellist, crafty knitter and new blogger. What the hell do I know about marketing? People might demand their money back if they come to my session, because I am 100% sure that my research is bogus — it’s all based on intuition. At least I get to go to Chicago for free. Right after, I’m off to Montreal to see Erica, Andrew and Tiny Baby A (whose real name is Atticus. This is a brilliant name for a baby, by the way, so don’t steal it. I can’t wait to meet him.)

So, today? Ugh. No celebrity sightings, the belly lump is bigger than ever, Lou is crazy with the itching, and I had popcorn for dinner. One would think I’d be skinny by now. Apparently, popcorn has lots of calories. Who knew? Maybe it’s the tumor.

Later – j.

Star-struck

Some famous people I saw today:

Deborah Roberts (a.k.a. Al Roker’s wife). She is super-pretty, very petite and looked very put together for 8:30 in the morning.

Denis Leary – filming an episode of Rescue Me (which is an excellent, excellent, excellent show — I thought it was off the air, but no! Watch it on F/X) right next door to my house . Who knew that show takes place in the ghetto! Anyway, he said hi to my dog this morning, which was kind of cool. Much hotter in real life than on TV. I mean, really … very cute.

That’s all I got for now. Here’s hoping something interesting happens on the way home today. P.S.: Hi, Tearsa!! Later – j.

Today is the day

So, you have noticed, by now, that I stopped counting chicken bones. It was just too depressing. I’m working on a linear regression model to predict the number of chicken bones I should see, the number that should be eaten, and the number that should be spit out on a daily basis, and will keep track that way. (Sadly, I’m not kidding about that.) The problem is that now the data is fuzzy, because I’ve taken to carrying Snausages and/or Beggin Strips (dogs don’t know it’s not bacon!) in my coat pockets to bribe Lou to spit out the bones. Whatever. The whole endeavor was kind of sad.

Tomorrow (today, later, really) is the day I find out about what that thing is growing in my belly. We all know I ain’t pregnant (unless technology has advanced to the point that you can get inseminated just by contact on the bus (it’s often quite close, so …). I am praying it’s just a fibroid, but my Lord, it is big. The NP who examined me actually said, “Whoa.” And, now that I know it’s there, I can’t help touching it — it feels like … well, you know how in the cartoons, Foghorn Leghorn would swallow a ham and you could see the outline of it in his belly? It feels like, and looks like (I saw it myself in the mirror at Marshall’s – gross all around) I swallowed a Fuji apple, or a tangerine, and it’s just haning out over my right hip. Gross. And, even more crazy is that I was so stuipd, I just thought I was firming up my lower abdominals through the power of positive thinking and sporadic leg lifts — no, that firmness was all about the tumor! Double gross. I have to believe it’s something simple — I can’t be broke, miserably displaced AND have bad health! The two former are bad enough. Cross your fingers. I’d cross mine, but I don’t want to cut off any important circulation before the MRI!

In other news: Eula is moving forward. I’m at a stand still on Uptown Hound right now, waiting for money to come in so I can pay for operating expenses that American Express is anxious to have remuneration for. The UH website is still planned to go live on April 15, but we’ll see if I have the cash to make that happen. It’s weird, because I don’t want to live here, but I still want to make this business work in NYC — I need a partner so I can be bought out by the end of the year. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it, I suppose. I think the retail operations will still work no matter where I live, so that’s something to keep the endeavor going for me. Olive continues to plod along.

Okay, Lou is snoring to beat the band — sleeping half on the bed and half in the window well. He is having a hard time wtih his hot spots. I don’t know what else to do for him — not sure what he could be allergic to, but I am REALLY resisting the recommendations of my vet and other busy bodies that he needs a companion. I ain’t got 2-dog money. Oh, now he’s awake again — probably knew I was typing about him — so, I’ll take this opportunity to salve him up before bed. Later – j.

Get It

So, I am not one of those people … what are they called? Cinephiles? Cinematics? Whatever. Movies are okay, but I don’t go to special venues to see them, or follow the work of specific directors/actors, etc. That said … Have you seen In America? All the hopes I nurture for myself were voiced there — that love is the same no matter your country of origin, your race or creed; that people can be good to each other without meaning to; that it’s all going to be okay.

Is it contrived that the young heroine of the movie is as precocious as she is? You bet. Does the black man, who is also a sage of some sort, have to die to make the point about love? Okay, that’s cliche. These are things that would otherwise make me crazed, but here, they work. Go see it right now.