Andare, Partire, Tornare ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Why, Georgia, Why? Looks as though the creepy freak that linked to me as a favorite diary has gone on to other victims. There's something disconcerting to have a person list you as a favorite, with the comment "Guilty" (as everybody else in the list was, apparently) and then to look at the diary and find weird rantings about God, stalking, the Bible, and J.D. Salinger. We are not amused. Bopping in my chair to Guster's Fa Fa Fa song. Love it. Also trying to figure out how to email Cherbear in Oxford to let her know that the odds of my visiting her are very scant, especially with the overt disapproval of my landlady on spending funds that should, by rights, go to her. Grrrr. I need to see Oxford once before I die, and this is such a fabulous opportunity, and the airfares are pretty reasonable. I need to work on this somemore. My sister Boop is now my personal trainer, of sorts! She worked with me (or was that worked me over) last night, so I now have a regimen of crunches and lunges and strength training with free weights. Then, a swim in the pool to loosen up, and a long walk around the neighborhood, avoiding the little brat boys who were whipping up and down the street on an APV. At eleven pm, no less. We later saw an unmarked police car cruise up and down the street, so figured somebody probably called the cops on their sorry asses. Now singing along to John Mayer's Why, Georgia, Why. Another great song. Need to do laundry. Really, really, really badly. Eeeeeeeeee. 12:08 p.m. - 2002-09-21 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||