I. Am. So. Bored.May 24, 2004
with the sweater I’m making for my guy friend (bartered for couch and wall painting help) that I’m eternally grateful for TV. Dude, 3X1 ribbing. The whole thing. Feel my pain, wouldja? But it is, like, the coziest big ole sweater I’ve ever made, and if he hates it, I’ll keep it. I kind of hope he hates it.
Okay, can we talk Colonial House? I had to take a break to write this. This is for several reasons. One, if I write now, I can sleep in tomorrow without feeling guilty for having not really blogged much for DAYS (sorry 'bout that). Two, I can’t stand to watch what’s going to happen on this sixth episode. Had to pause it. I was at once sad and happy to see the governor go back to Waco and the present day. He and his whole family seem like beautiful, wonderful people that I would be glad to call friends. Only thing is, the governor wouldn’t call me a friend. He’d call me a homosexual sinner, and I'm bummed that he never got called on his homophobia – that he never had to confront Jonathon and that they never got a real chance to talk. I also can't stand what'shisname the New Governor, and I like his wife even less. Erp. The revolution is coming. I can feel it.
Also -- I really liked when Don Wood said that if they didn’t straighten up, they’d be known as the F-ckin’ Lame Colony. Heh. The humor of this particular show comes directly from their lameness.
Enough TV talk. I never used to talk TV. I didn’t even have cable for most of my life. Cable is relatively recent in my life. TiVo is still brand new. And hear me now, I won’t go back. You can't make me. No pillar of salt, me. Won't even look back to say goodbye to my cable-less self....
I went running today! It was the first time this week, and I ran three times last week. I hate to admit it, most of all to my non-athletic-and-proud-of-it self, but I’m still liking it. A lot. I actually like the running part more than the walking-because-I’m-gonna-die part. The running hurts less somehow. I also HAVE to call it running, even though what I’m doing is more like a jog. A really slow jog. Even a semi-quick walk. I have short legs. What am I going to do? I canNOT say that I’m jogging. That’s just dumb.
Oh, and I’ll leave you with the best picture EVER. The little mama (wearing the Mindless Raglan) and blissed out sleeping Adah: