I am becoming

Being a primary caregiver for one or more infants will ruin butterscotch pudding forever.

That is all.

I went to the grocery store. I bought watermelon and cherries and ice cream bars... along with more sensible fare.

90°+ weather requires watermelon. Not eating Flathead cherries during a Western Montana summer is a travesty.

... but if I ever did consider getting married again, I'd argue hard for having the Imperial Death March substituted for the Wedding March.

Just saying.

It sounds much cooler.

I look like a dork wearing hairbands. (My hair is now too long in front for the jeweled bobby pin thing I was doing for a while.)

( ETA: you know how your car won't make that noise when the mechanic is near? )

My "driving between Florence and Missoula" daydreams usually come in two varieties:
1. sex
2. violence

There are many variations on those, and neither category ever gets old. For the first category, if you've run out of configurations there are always new fantasy partners... taken singly or in groups. For the second category, there's always a new and interesting way to be physically attacked and to incapacitate and maim (not always in that order) one's attacker.

My recent daydreams haven't fallen into either category. What have I been fantasizing about as I pick up or drop off Eliza? Dancing. More to the point, dancing well. Not the "dance by yourself, near another person or people" dancing, but the sort where you've got a partner and it's important to pay attention to each other, be in sync, and move together. The kind of dancing where I get to spin around really fast, because my partner is there to provide a "which way is up" reference point so I don't lose my balance and fall. The sort where, when it's really good, I'm airborne every now and again. Where you can't wear jewelry on your hands or wrists, because it would cut into your skin and be painful for you and your partner. The sort of dancing where, when the song ends, you're both flushed, out of breath, and glowing because you've been flying.

I miss that kind of dancing.

Thing #1: I got used to caffeine, as in coffee-caffeine, when I was drinking a cup or two each day. Tea-caffeine is not cutting it. *grump*

Thing #2: Oh, well, of course I automatically chose the layout which is apparently a much-desired and difficult thing to create! Typical, really. The Montana Women Vote site is two columns, but otherwise the same: full-width header and footer, navigation sidebar with fixed max-width, liquid main content area.

At some point, I will learn to sip coffee instead of drinking it as quickly as I would water.

For that matter, at some point I will learn to drink water slowly instead of emptying the glass as quickly as possible so I can get back to whatever I was doing before deciding to drink some water.

I've mastered the art of sipping alcoholic beverages, with the aid of some operant conditioning. (I have a very low alcohol tolerance and generally start buzzing after consuming less than 1/10 a standard serving of booze. Forgetting to sip slowly leads to much unpleasantness.)

I won't drink coffee if it's hot enough to burn my mouth, so I don't get the temperature-based encouragement for small sips. Therefore I usually drain my mug quickly, then five minutes later look around and wonder where my coffee went.

*looks around and wonders where her coffee went*

I can go all weekend without caffeine and not get a caffeine withdrawal headache. (I don't always go all weekend without caffeine, partly because James is getting much better at making a good pot of coffee... meaning it has neither chunks nor the approximate pH of battery acid.)

If I'm at work and don't have caffeine by 9:30, I've got the caffeine headache.

Yes, fun with situational learning.

I want pizza and barbecue wings.

I can even afford them. (I just spent too much time updating MS Money in order to ascertain that fact. Too much, because I'd let it go too long.)

The boys are being rotten little monsters.

Pizza and wings are used for "you're wonderful kids, thanks so much for the fantastic behavior" treats.

I can never decide how I want to spell barbeque.

My life is filled with complexity. Alas and alack.


PS: I still don't want to work on the programming project.

I'm a fidgeter. If I am ever completely still, it is because I am:
a) utterly exhausted
b) asleep
c) really scared
d) concentrating on holding completely still.

Even as I fall asleep I move my foot back and forth against the sheet because the repetitive motion is soothing and helps move my brain to "sleep" instead of "process thirty-five million things and solve this problem and what about that and make lists of what I need to do tomorrow and dammit I forgot to send that e-mail and..."

Today I am wearing my jingly bellydancer anklet.

When I sit at a desk, unless I make a conscious effort to keep my feet flat on the floor, my toes and the ball of my foot rest on the floor, my heel is in the air, and my knees are bouncing up and down at a fairly rapid rate. (The harder I concentrate or the faster I type, the faster my knees bounce.)

My coworkers have gotten used to this and no longer ask "what's the weird ringing sound??" Instead they say "Oh, you're wearing your jingly anklet today!" (Note that if I shared an office with someone I'd refrain from wearing anything jingly, for fear of being stabbed with a letter opener or succumbing to a mysterious stapler accident.)