8 March 2001
Last year: Well, last minute emergencies happen without warning.
Well, I went to see an orthopedic specialist yesterday for my finger. My regular doctor believes that since my finger wasn't being improved by being taped, maybe it needs physical therapy. The orthopedist agreed, and showed me some stretching exercises to do with my finger once or twice a day. They hurt, naturally.
But he thought they might even help straighten the finger out from when it was broken four (or was it five?) years ago, so that's something.
My brain is scattered all over this morning. I know, I know - that's hardly news. But I can't seem to focus on anything for more than a few seconds. Just now I had to switch my music to the "Instrumental" playlist, because I kept being distracted by the words in the songs.
My office mate put a sign on our door yesterday - the currently-popular All Your Base Are Belong To Us. I keep looking at it in strange fascination.
And now I've got a case of what Matt calls the "psycho-itchies" - first my arm itches. Then my hand. Then my face. Then my leg. Then my stomach. Then my ear. Then... You get the idea.
It may take me until lunchtime just to get this journal entry posted.
Gah. I forgot to call my dad last night. I was supposed to - one of the women he'd worked with a lot before the layoffs, who was also laid off, is moving today. I was supposed to call and tell him, in case he wanted to contact her before she left. Oops.
Gah. My brain actually sounds like a James Joyce novel this morning. How horrifying. "...Once upon a time and a very good time it was there was a moocow coming down along the road and this moocow that was down along the road met a nicens little boy named baby tuckoo..."
Sigh. I give up. If I pull myself together later, maybe I'll write more...
8:30 am - An anecdote.
Matt's been working a lot of long hours at work lately, including both days over the weekend. Yesterday, for the first time in more than a week, he got to come home at his usual time.
As he came through the door, he looked at me with wide eyes. "You... You're my wife, right?"
He crossed the room, hung up his coat, and turned back to me, frowning with concentration. "Your name is..." He paused to think. "Liz!"
"That's right," I answered as I gave him a hug.
A movement caught his eye. "That's our cat!"
The man needs a weekend.
- Another anecdote.
It was decided that meeting Braz and Kris for ice cream was a Good Idea, despite the cold. We sat in the Ben and Jerry's, eating our ice cream and chatting and laughing. It was Good. Finally, Braz sighed and picked up his jacket. "We need to go to the store and get some cat food before my wife falls asleep," he said regretfully.
"Those pregnancy cravings just get weirder and weirder," Matt commented.
"And she'll only eat the seafood flavor!" agreed Braz.
At this comment, Kris actually woke up. "No! There's the chicken, and the tuna!"
Poor Kris. Matt is evil.
8:45 am - reading my journals
I usually try to avoid talking about other journals here, but since I can't focus enough to give you a decent read today, I might as well point you somewhere that can.
Damn. Read this. And then read this.
I cried, just a little.
And this... I know it's spring and all, and this is what I do in the spring, but... I want this. I didn't really talk about the baby drive last spring, mostly because it makes Matt kindof uncomfortable. But one of my best friends is pregnant. I don't think I'm going to be able to avoid it, or even avoid talking about it, this year.
It's funny, actually, how Matt and I are poised on pins and needles waiting for Braz and Kris's baby. I'm hoping that Matt will fall in love and want one of his own. Matt is hoping the reality will change my mind. I'm guessing the actual result will be somewhere in the middle. But it's still kindof funny.
Word of the Day:
rescind - to take back; to cancel; repeal
Currently Reading:
- Plan B by Sharon Lee and Steve Miller
Current Projects:
- getting ready to start back up