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Friday - July 11, 2003
Hello Mr. Nose, I Trust You Remember Ms. Grindstone?
*** WE INTERRUPT THIS DIARY ENTRY FOR A SPECIAL BULLETIN ***
It has just come to my attention that Jack Henslee is having a Christmas in July Print Sale this month only.
Many of you may well shop for and delight yourselves. Anyone wishing to delight *me* should know that I am aching to add the below pieces to my Henslee print collection. Just instruct him to ship to Doxy -- he knows the addy.
/shameless begging for scrumptious art.
Don't I make it sound like I'm doing hard labor carrying anvils uphill or something? Fuckmeat sandwhiches, the end of a vacation is just a growly day, no matter how much you enjoy your job.
Well, regardless, vacation is over. C'est la vie. I am relaxed, brown, and ready to get down ;-)
It is an odd thing -- taking a vacation when you are self-employed. There isn't really anyone to check in with. No one who is going to deride you if you extend an extra day. Nothing but your own inner work-a-holic to coax you back to the dregs of reality.
Of course, I have the large plus of enjoying a reality that doesn't include all that many dregs. Recently, I was given pause to reflect that I have pretty much the job I want with pretty much the hours I want to work it and making more or less the money I'd like to make for it. I am, in effect, getting away with something, and part of me expects to be called on it any day now.
Man in Black: Miss Wringer, you're having entirely too much fun. The aliens are here to anally probe you now and take you back to where you came from.
Doxy: Oh! Perks!
(Ignore the alien references, that's Freudian -- or, possibly Kafka-influenced -- psychological undercurrent stemming from the isolation of working alone. Or it might have something to do with the fact that I watched Aliens while on Vacation. One or the other.)
I also had a great fourth and hope everyone did too. I allowed myself to feel a tinge of the old patriotism that I used to feel before becoming an informed American. I imagine the current political state of our country and my ingrained all-American girl background makes me a little like a Catholic paleontologist. No matter what the book says, I'm looking at the carbon dating on the skeletal remains and something's not Kosher. Ah well, if science and spirituality can find a way to co-exist maybe there's hope for me and my inner patriot.
Although I think it would have really helped my American self-esteem to have never seen So Graham Norton in Dollywood. Goddess save us. If any of you from the UK read my diary, please know that Pigeon Forge, TN is NOT an accurate sampling of the US mindset, no matter how much it may appear to explain the current administration.
And what is up with all the celebrity deaths all of a sudden? They're supposed to come in threes -- not thirties! And damn it all we lost Kate which is just gut-wrenchingly unbearable. An independent class-act of a cookie all the way. Now I'll have to find someone else I want to be when I grow up.
On that uplifting note, I'm off to spread post-holiday...erm....cheer ;-)
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