Got Mojo?

This has been such a strange week. Of course, I’m used to having at least one strange week per month (figure it out, guys), but this one took the cake. I’m not sure why, but - thank God it’s Friday.

Since most of my little grey cells have either 1) retreated to the hills or 2) found tiny beach towels to lie on in the sun, I’m just going to blurt out some stuff. I hope you don’t mind.

I started The Mermaid’s Chair with high hopes, but they were dashed when the two main protagonists jumped into the sack with too little provocation, and within too few pages. Excuse me, but a successful love story requires eons of pain, entire chapters devoted to unrequited love and unfortunate misunderstandings and all the accompanying angst. Otherwise, it’s just a heaving-bosom, throbbing-member Harlequin romance, and feh. Who needs that crap? (Please don’t ask why I know so much about Harlequin romances. It sickens me when you do.)

So, I tossed that loser in the return pile of library books, and picked up Honore’ de Balzac’s Pere Goriot. I’m reading it in the original French, of course. Nono, goodness you’re gullible. I’m reading it in the translated-to-English version, natch, and am absolutely loving it. When you’ve steeped yourself in mediocrity for too long, you forget what it’s like to stand on the shore and stare at the ocean, or hear the roar of an immense waterfall, or see the sun burst through the clouds on a rainy day. Anyone who knows how to string two sentences together can be an author. True writers take your very breath away.

@ I am just thoroughly sick of being alone. I’ve had my fun, and now it’s time for Scott to come home. I don’t want to play this game anymore.

@ I’ve learned how to play Ode to Joy on my guitar, if you term the word “learned” loosely. Hm. Can you “term” a word? This morning, Torie called to Jesse from the kitchen, “Do you want me to cream cheese your bagel?” He called back, “I don’t think you can use ‘cream cheese’ as a verb. And yes, thanks.” Of course, in the spirit of indoctrination I piped up, “She can verb anything she wants. She’s an American.” By that time we had all converged in the kitchen, so I witnessed them rolling their eyes at me, thank God. Neither one of them will brook that sort of nonsense. I believe every child should be raised at the knee of reverse psychology, don’t you? It’s fun!

@ You all really encouraged me yesterday. Thank you.

@ Today’s Pamper Friday, but I’m not sure what to do. I’ve been od-ing on Buffy, as I tell you every five minutes, so in a way it’s been a Pamper kind of Week. Maybe today I should do actual housework. How boring, though. Sometimes I’ll think to myself, “What would I do if I didn’t have all these damn animals?” but then myself mentally punches me in the arm and says, “But you do.”

“But what if I didn’t?” I’ll insist.

“Okay, I’ll go along. What would you do if you didn’t?”

“I wouldn’t have to sweep, for one.”

“That’s a start.”

“I’d probably put on some music, and straighten the house a bit.”

“All good.”

“Then I might change my sheets.”

“Okay, you know what? You’re really boring, and besides, all that begs the question: Why don’t you just do those things?”

Geez. Sometimes myself can be really snotty. “I can’t do those things,” I’ll counter furiously, “when people, furry or non, are pulling at me with their eyes, wanting me to do do DO something for them all the cockadoody DAY.” But now I’m starting another topic that requires a post of its own, and lord knows we don’t brook that kind of nonsense, either, do we?

Love you guys. xo