March 14th, 2003 - 1.01 am
Erin's getting on my case about not updating. Well. I've had some technical Diaryland related difficulties, (don't get me wrong, I'm not knocking anything! It's free!) and, I haven't really had anything to say! I go through periods where I always want to write and periods where I never seem to have anything to say. And this is one of those spells. Also, I'm spitting my writing between a couple of different sources. (Excuses, excuses!)
Maybe, generally, my life has been going well lately. There have been some bumps (I got so so sick!) but mainly, I'm loving things. I'm finding relationships that keep getting stronger, I'm totally rearranging my priorities, (not totally, but spending more time with people I love and less with people I don't.) throwing my self into MESA work, I've decided to be a peer ed mentor on top of the hotline work and play. I love it. I recently got an award that's given every month and that made me disgustingly proud. I don't do what I do for the recognition, but to get it -- wow. Overwhelming. Like, I got this award and went "duhuhuhuh" I didn't know what to say, or how to thank people. And really, I still don't. I look at it every day, and I've taken a picture of it (because I have to give it back at the end of the month, it rotates) and I'm so honored because every single person deserves that award. Wow.
On top of that, the whether has been so lovely lately. Spring time. I wore shorts, a tee-shirt and sandles today! Though, due to afore mentioned illness I haven't had too much of an oppurtunity to spend time in it. Still.
One thing, if you made it through all the mundanity (Is that a word? I took Benedryl about 15 minutes ago and I'm starting to get loopy.) I have a roommate story. Well. Sort of.
You remember the mandolin festivle? Well, that's nothing compared to this week. Mark has this friend, Paul. Paul has this dog, Timber. Paul lives in Steamboat Springs. (Not for long, he's just started renting a place not far from ours, joy of irrepressable joys) and I'm sure Paul is a perfectly nice guy, but he comes to stay. Not for a night, or even two. He's been here over a WEEK now. A WEEK! Him, and his dog Timber. This house is simply not big enough for four people, two dogs and two cats. Paul sleeps on the couch, so when I got home from Dennys I had to tiptoe around, find the goddamned Benedryl and get to my room without tripping over any mandolins, guitars, suitcases, shoes, dogs or cats. And there was no forewarning, that we would have "guests" to stay. They smoke a lot of pot in the living room, they eat all our groceries, and Timber destroyes shit.
This is how a conversation in our house goes lately.
"So, hi, how was your da-- TIMBER NO!"
"Hi! It was fine. I got a lot do--TIMEBER! OFF!"
"Yeah? What did you have to have to d--Where's Timber? (this is followed by a frantic search, and we usually find Timber in someone's bedroom, making mischif.
Whew. So, sorry, wh--TIMBER! DROP IT!" (this is followed by chase scene, in which the two involved parties chase Timber around the house and wrest away whatever she's chewing to miniscule pieces.)
"Oh, well, she's just a puppy."
"Yeah, a satanic, devil-posessed puppy who exists soley to--Hi, Paul!"
What has Timber destroyed you ask? A pair of favorite sexy boots, a knitting project that's taken about a year, a biology notebook, all my stuff of course. I don't get it! I just don't get it. Why? Why me? I mean, I don't kick animals. I volunteer. I recycle. I'm a nice person most of the time. What did I do to deserve TIMBER? What? tell me, I'll make restitution. 10 Hail Marys? Done. 15 Our Fathers? You got it. Name your price!
