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Crickets
2006-01-23, 3:18 p.m.

Crickets, because I am just that boring.

Honestly, I’m not even going to go to great lengths to tell you about my weekend, because it was interesting to nobody, not even me. Here are the highlights, and they really aren’t all that high:

1. Dinner with a friend. The only thing you might be interested in is that this is one of my many internet friends, and though I have many, Gena is one of my very oldest and specialest IFs (dating back to 1999); we’ve gotten together before (Austin in 2000, and Las Vegas in 2001); and we email each other as part of a larger group every day. She was in town for a convention. And she rawks. She don’t stop.
2. Rain. Yeah, it freaking rained, and that makes the news around here. Next!
3. A Very Special White Trash Wedding Shower. It was so ‘specially white trash that it deserves all caps and its own Lifetime special. Hint: I won one of the shower games, and my prize? A canister of jasmine-scented incense sticks, for when I spark up a fatty and want to disguise the odor.
4. Cleaning house with my baby, DW. This is the kind of stuff that gives a 50(chores)-50(sex) marriage real staying power. When you sit back at the end of the cleaning frenzy with your one and only someone, and you exclaim to each other “A vinegar and water douche shines up them laminate floors! Who knew?” and you high-five, and then settle in to watch football…well, it makes me all misty down there.
5. Cramps. Good thing we have chores, because the other 50% was right out. What the hell? I’m not even using this uterus anymore, so why is it clamoring for my attention like this? Shut up and sit down, uterus!
6. My Lil Guy, who had the option of making up some lost time with his world-traveling dad and staying an extra night with him, chose to come home early instead. Hm.

Our dog, the incorrigible Mrs. Beans, makes no bones about her all-consuming love for my husband. She loves me, too, but I have no doubt that if she had thumbs, or just one thumb and a brain, she’d murder me in my sleep and position herself to be DW’s dog-bride. There are some things in our house that just don’t fly for her, and one of them is anybody sitting on the couch next to DW except Beans.

Saturday night, we gave in to the gravitational pull of the couch (it’s a big couch) (hence its own gravitational field), and found ourselves sitting next to each other, while the dog paced back and forth, nervously…plotting…worrying…

“You know she’s not going to let this stand. She WILL have you,” I said to DW.

“Let’s see what she does,” he countered.

Just then, the dog made a move to leap up onto the couch, but her large talons slipped on the slippery floor, and she bit the dust right at our feet. DW leaned forward to see what the hell had happened, and make sure she hadn’t broken a leg or thrown a shoe, and in the instant that he did that, she feinted right, darted behind him, and in one swooping, flying, ear-flapping 180, materialized in the empty space next to me.

That dog TOTALLY set the whole thing up, faked him out, and deposited her hairy butt on the couch between us. She outsmarted us, and if she grows thumbs, I’m toast. I sleep with one intensely-staring eye open.

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