Moose in the Kitchen

Yesterday narrowly escaped being a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day – about seven times. When avoiding the Peaks of Wretched became more effort than it was worth, I went home and crawled in bed with my dinner and my laptop and didn’t get out til morning. At least, I assume I’ll get out sometime this morning. It hasn’t happened yet. The world looks much nicer from under an Ikea duvet. Even one that might still retain some crumbs from last night’s fried chicken. YES, IT’S GROSS AND NO, I DON’T CARE.

I expect today will be much better.

Public Service Announcement For Anyone Who Finds Themselves a Victim of Basic Human Biology

I was skulking around the kitchen yesterday afternoon when Brian asked what was wrong. I paused for a moment because EVERYTHING WAS WRONG. NOTHING WILL EVER BE RIGHT AGAIN, ESPECIALLY WHILE OUR FAX MACHINE IS BROKEN. NOW PLEASE EXCUSE ME I HAVE A T-SHIRT TO REND. Then I said, “Hormones.”

“Do you know about the Ten Jumping Jacks?”

Assuming this was a whimsical name for some zen technique that would ricochet me into a guru-like state, or at least keep me from sobbing over the French press, I shook my head. Turns out, he was referring to actual jumping jacks, the kind preferred by Jillian Michaels. There are official reasons they help, but my brain tends to go pleasantly hazy when science is discussed and I flash back to a conversation where the answer to everything was “BECAUSE OF SCIENCE.” Which echoes in my head, drowning out all information of a factual nature. What I did catch: the human body is pretty efficient and can cycle out excess hormones simply by jumping around a bit. After dutifully performing my ten jumping jacks, I felt much better. I did a set whenever I felt the caps lock coming on, and by mid-afternoon, hormones were no longer making me their bitch. Try it! I urge you. It works. BECAUSE OF SCIENCE.

Wherein My Mother Gently Chides Me Because SHE Wanted the Gap Gift Card

My mom kindly threw a family dinner on Sunday to celebrate my new job. Even my brother showed up, which was absurdly flattering for reasons that I shouldn’t get into, because he’d be distressed if he even knew the words “my brother” appeared here. Which means I can’t show you the picture I have of him against the backdrop of my mom’s newly-painted dining room. (It’s a lovely hue of green. Light green? Forest sage? Fancy colors confuse me.) I got a whole ream of good pictures, none of which I can show you, because as I was taking them, I got several worried looks. “These won’t go on the internet, will they?” “Of course not! Wouldn’t dream of it!” Blast.

I can show you this one. Because there are no people in it, only patio furniture. Please note my mother likes blue.

Anyway, as helpful people put dinner on the table, and I got in their way taking pictures, my mom asked if I had chosen the winner of the Gap gift card. When I said I had, a week ago, she informed me that I really had to announce it because people might think I’D KEPT IT FOR MYSELF. WHICH WOULD BE WRONG. AND I RAISED YOU BETTER THAN THAT. (A thesis she drops as soon as she witnesses – yet again – my horrendous table manners.)

I meant to post about it but got distracted by life, as you do, and sort of assumed you either didn’t care or could read my mind. Can you read my mind? No? Well then: the winner of the gift card, chosen by a random number generator, tempted though I was to choose my favorite haiku, is: Christine! (She got the card a week ago, by the way, so this announcement lacks a certain something. Like momentum. Or some semblance of surprise.)

Because My Mind Remains Maddeningly Opaque

If anyone who signed up for OOTLS 2 didn’t get an email yesterday, let me know. It’s all very low tech over here and the possibilities of missing someone are fairly high. BECAUSE OF SCIENCE.