13 January
So yesterday I had to get up at the crack of fucking dawn in order to babysit Bon-Bon.
Okay, well, I know that everyone else alive gets up at 7.30a or before five days a week for fifty years, but I'm a delicate flower and it's harder for me!
Cynthia had an early call for whatever she was shooting yesterday, and Fran was teaching an early karate class, so after Katie left for school at 8a I was needed to watch the baby until I was relieved by the flowershop girls at 10.15a.
My, having children is complicated!
Anyway, Fran knocked on my door at 7.30p, waking me a little so that Katie could wake me fully when she left, but she was beaten by Bonnie herself, who toddled purposely into my room about fifteen minutes earlier.
I took her into bed with me and sleepily mumbled to her about the cats. I vaguely remembered having the same conversation with Molly at the same age, where she would point at the cats and give them the wrong names and I would correct her.
"Miyo!"
"No, that's Monty."
"Monky?"
"No, that's Baldrick."
"Morrip?"
"Baldrick."
"Borrup?"
"Bald-rick."
"Bal-druck?"
"Close enough!"
When we were upstairs later, Elvis came up, and Bonnie joyfully crowed "Bal-druck!" at the sight of him. "No," I said, "That's Elvis, there are two black and white kitties." She looked at me and grinned, as I was clearly being ridiculous.
Anyway, I put her in the living room, turned on Lion King 2-Simba's Pride and went back down to update and shower.
God bless long movies. She doesn't watch it, she wanders around and plays, but the movie is an aural wallpaper, and she can sing along with the songs and is happy as a sandboy.
I was upstairs by 9.30a or so, waiting for the flowershop girl to come, but she didn't (turns out her sister forgot to give her the message). Fortunately, Cynthia wrapped early and was home by 10.40a, and The Raccoon was back at work, or I would have been royally screwed.
I was doing so well with ebay, meaning that I was down to one open auction that ends today at 9.01p and then I was free, free!
I was, however, so horrified by that fact that I immediately bid on seven new auctions.
I'm staying sensible, keeping my bids low, keeping my maximum bids below market price, not getting caught up in bidding wars, but I have realized just that the fact of bidding itself and having open auctions is like a fucking drug in itself.
On Martha Stewart Living this morning, Martha is learning to drive a carriage, and her teacher just noted that she brought her own buggy whip.
The idea that Martha Stewart owns an eight foot long whip for her own personal use comes as no surprise to almost anybody.
They just had a Special Report, interrupting the show, to talk about the ' Trace-1" ' of snow that we got this morning, calling it the first winter storm of the season.
Clearly, the weathermen are so bored with this non-winter, that this vague dusting of snow that barely coats the grass in my backyard gets labeled a 'storm' and merits a Special Report.
"We interrupt this programme to tell you that there is barely any snow! Now, back to our regularly scheduled programme."
Hey, Lagniappe has finally decided to stop testing the loyalty and patience of her readership and is back at last with a fine new look and a buttload of new entries!
Today's horoscope:
Your encouragement is essential to a friend. Act as a cheerleader to motivate someone close to you and s/he'll be pleased by the results.
One year ago today:
"Who are you and what are you doing in Kymm's cubicle?"
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Last Updated Sat 1 January 13:03:09 2000