What do you do when it’s Friday, and you have no real brain space or time, but you still want to say things?
You just say them. All in a row.
I got a haircut. No more mermaid hair – although, correspondingly, no more dead head.
If you have ever prayed, “Dear God, please can there be a movie that combines “The Sandlot” and “Signs” and “Independence Day”?” then guess what. Your prayer has been answered, and it’s called “Super 8.” I LOVED IT.
I’m taking the first week of August off of work. No plans – except to climb as many mountains as I can, and do fun things, and turn 29 years old.
Tom Petty is proof that a man doesn’t have to be attractive to be sexy. That is just the strangest phenomenon.
Tomorrow night, I’m going to a professional lacrosse game. I’m never quite sure which sport is lacrosse, and which is rugby, and which is polo. I feel like all involve grunting? Time to do some research.
I don’t think I know anyone in Denver with a truck. Does anyone in Denver have a truck? (I know – that is the question that every truck-owner doesn’t want to answer. Except I’m SO nice, and I make very good cookies.)
Lately, I’ve been missing Seattle so much I can barely breathe. I haven’t been there in almost a year. This is so wrong.
But it’s pay day. This is so right.