Cat-r-wall

I had an amazing new adventure with my rent-a-cats today. Well, okay, mostly just the one. We're beyond Houdini though, this cat apparates through walls, Harry Potter style. That's right, this cat could probably kick Dumbledore's ass. I wish I was joking, because that would make my life less terrifying. Honestly, the cats are great, but I live in fear of losing them somewhere and then having to explain to the legitimate owners that "Oh hey, about your cat..." My cohabitation is more or less pleasantly cute and fluffy, punctuated by moments of extreme terror.

I decided to do laundry because it's been awhile, and the cat accompanied me down the stairs. Usually, it does no good to try and keep him away from the basement because he'll inevitably end up down there regardless of the measures I take. Why? Because he's Harry-freaking-Potter, that's why. Anyway, we have an arrangement where I let him play downstairs and he lets me know when he's gotten bored of it. I used to try herding him around to get him upstairs but herding a cat in a cluttered basement is less than fun, and certainly not easy. Also, if I stand around and wait for him to get tired of the dust bunnies on his face, this doesn't happen and he finds them SO grossly interesting that they multiply to spangle all of his whiskers.

He never "knocked" so I went for a run. When I returned, he was still not at the door, so I ventured down after him to try and convince him that playtime was over. This didn't happen because he wasn't down there. I tried poking through my neighbor's side of the basement... and tried really hard in a paranoid sort of way not to look sketchy. This was a challenge because there is no way, in hell, that you can avoid looking sketchy when you're going through someone else's stuff and get caught. I didn't get caught, and anyway, my efforts were to no avail. I noticed though, that the door to the neighbor's side of the house was open. I tried constructing a request in my head that was appropriate for 9 am. "Hello, excuse me, did you happen to see a large black cat apparate through your door? I've lost mine. Yes, you see, he walks through solid barriers."

I did not, however, actually have to knock on the door because he wasn't behind it. He was actually over my head. by roughly 6 feet. in the stairwell. Let me just explain that the walls of the stairwell are flat. there are no shelves, hooks, or wires. Apparently, this cat can also fly. About 20 minutes of coaxing and the majority of my dignity later, the cat still wasn't out of the ceiling and I decided taht this must be because he was stuck. I did the next logical thing and got a ladder. I got my camera first, perhaps not the most constructive idea ever. I set the ladder up National Lampoon style in the stairwell, and I'm pretty well convinced that if the neighbors had opened their door at any point during this process, they would have unhesitatingly called the cops.

Upon reaching the apex of this precarious situation, I looked up and discovered that there was, in fact, no cat. He was gone. And there I was, wondering what the hell I was I doing in a Ph.D. program when I couldn't even figure out how the hell a cat got into the ceiling (yes, I am fully aware of how insane that sounds). When I heard a meow. On the other side of the door I had just closed. He was sitting on the other side of it on the floor, looking as though he'd been waiting for hours for me to get everything figured out. I'm pretty sure that this is goign to cost me my sanity.

Well hello, did you get those on sale at Old Navy? Me too!

You've probably noticed by now that I tend to approach everything in life with a certain amount of humor. I read once that you shouldn't laugh at everything because it trivializes things that shouldn't be trivialized. That might be true, but let's think about this... Just because you can find a way to laugh at the situation, it doesn't mean that you're trivializing it. Besides, what's the alternative to laughing? Crying? Anyway, you don't have to laugh "at" things, you can laugh "about" them. There is a difference, believe me. Dating is, however, one of those things you you have to laugh AT, and it's necessary because if I don't find a way of laughing at it, I'm going to abandon the idea of relationships altogether and go become a nun. it's been brought to my attention that I have a few idiosyncrasies that make dating a little odd for me. As mentioned a few posts ago, I have gotten dating out of my system for the most part. This is fortuitous because this crap makes me irritable. No I haven't dropped the idea of a relationship maybe someday being not such an inconvenient thing, but I have dropped the idea of bothering to go and find one now for various reasons.

I've ranted about before, I revisited the world of socially-functional-people-who-date a little while back. I may not have said it explicitly, but I'm pretty sure I have implied (strongly), that I make bad decisions. This isn't even just on the dating front, or on the choice of wardrobe- because I make bad decisions all around. When you combine all of these elements, you see me living in a snowglobe of things that should just not happen. I'll lend some insight into why I am a disaster.

About a week ago, my lovely roommate invited me out to dinner with her and a friend. As we were getting dressed she mentioned that she really liked my jeans on me. When her hint apparently sailed completely unnoticed over my head, no more than briefly tripping over my oblivious "why, thank you!", she more pointedly told me that I should probably put them on because maybe, just maybe, it'd be a nice idea for me to wear womens' jeans as opposed to my usual mens' Old Navy shorts because in case it had escaped my notice, I was, in fact, not a man.

Some might argue that it is problematic when you show up to a date, and you realize that you own the same pants as the pair currently sported by the man you've just met- and you are a straight female. For a number of years, I've been informed that my habit of dress, or rather, complete lack of style and inability to adhere to social norms on an even quasi-regular basis, is strange, if not downright weird. I recently attempted, at the encouragement of my roommate and other women who know "what's up", to dress like a woman, at least for dating purposes. Because, honestly, what man wants to show up to a date to find that they're dating a slightly feminine version of himself? I'm sure you remember my discussion on hating clothes shopping? Well, men's clothing is a lot more sturdy, and if it takes longer to destroy it, it lasts in the field, then it's good enough for the office and I can delay shopping for replacements for even longer.

A few weeks ago when I went to see a man I met on a dating website. Just for the record, yes, online dating is weird, but when you live like a small rodent operating in a windowless office that is, minus the large spiders and dampness, a freaking cave, from whatever time you drag yourself out of your house in the morning until after dark at night, everyday (that's right, this includes an inability to recognize weekends or observe most holidays), how/where the hell else are you going to meet somebody? In the cave next door? Oh yeah, that's a brilliant idea just waiting to happen... But to swerve back on track, I wore a skirt. There was compromising involved. My roommate confirmed that I looked both acceptable and like myself as I combined the skirt with my usual button down field shirt. Come on, I wouldn't be me if I was dressed totally like a girl, now would I?

He was a nice guy, I hope he finds what he's looking for, which I believe is a lot- and as "not-right" a fit as we were, I think he deserves someone really wonderful. He found humor in everything, but with what I felt like was a touch of sadness. It was him in his words, but at the same time, it wasn't. I almost said as much, that I imagined he was actually a very serious person and he looked at me without surprise at my observation. "Aren't the most amused people the most serious?" He might not have realized it at the time, but the fact that I agreed with him wasn't because I was trying to be pleasant and affable, but because it resonated true. Consequently, I was being uncomfortably not-myself by attempting to dress passably as a woman for something that I never, in my right mind, would dress up for (oh wait, the norm means I wouldn't be on a date in the first place... what am I thinking?!) and feeling awkward about it. My brief experience with him indirectly set off the subject of this entry. My roommate lent her own insight into my dating situation (overall) and lucky for you and me, thought when we had him over for dinner that his style was as ridiculous as mine.

She was only here for a few months, most of which I was away for, but the only way to describe her is... she's a really unique person with a gift for making other people feel special. I miss her. Funny enough, she was not a fan of this man, and saw what I hadn't bothered to acknowledge, and believe it or not, it wasn't centered on my idiosyncratic style, but rather my inability to correct my behavioral approach to dating: he and I had nothing in common, were in two completely different walks of life, so what the hell was the problem, why was I still keeping up the charade of pleasant dating? She pointed out that yes, he was nice, but this shouldn't mean that I should keep seeing him; was I dating him because I wanted to or because it was there and convenient, was he really a good fit or did it just look good in theory, did I really want to be with somebody who was so concerned about things that were obviously the opposite of my concerns, yes it had only been a few dates but I should probably ask that question about "where's this going" now because he just said he was moving across the country and for pity's sake, couldn't I date somebody who didn't have two earrings? Her mother, who was visiting, asked quite seriously "Did they accidentally pierce the wrong ear and then go back and do the other?" I kind of appreciate a man who can pull off an earring, but I try not to admit that out loud. Anyway, she had a point, we weren't terribly intrigued by one another. I wasn't sure how to end it nicely and directly, so I did it indirectly and hilariously. Want to scare a man? Ask him to figure out how he feels about commitment early on.

Anyway, she and I had a talk about the previously mentioned man and his and my conversation plays into it a bit. I'm frequently fairly private about things, but she taught me that sometimes you have to be open. She noticed that I have a habit of letting things go, and therefore, while I'm pretty introspective, continue to make the same mistakes in relationships even though I recognize that I'm making them. I date people who are really not a fit, and I know that, and they're nice people (sometimes) but it's not going to work. I'll throw this out there as I frequently do, the definition of insanity: doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result.

I have a few people to thank for their impacts on my mental processes, including that guy who I haven't spoken to and probably never will again (sorry about making that last conversation a freak show, I doubt you thought it was funny, but I sure as hell did). My roommate, of course. And somebody else who didn't seem to mind that I go everywhere in men's shorts and 3-sizes-too-big button downs. I'm undoubtedly going to stick with my current habits of dressing lackadaisically but maybe with special appearances in my womens' H&M jeans. I won't give away the ending just yet. I actually have no idea what it will be.

Cheers!

Living with Cats as a Non Cat Person

I am currently the renter of two lovely cats. Let me set this up: My sister is the cat person. She had one named Carmel that she'd carry in a backpack and would play fetch with her. I am allergic to cats (along with everything that has a pulse or pollen) and am more of a big ugly dog kinda gal. But these cats are nice. They belong to a colleague of mine and his wife who are away in the field for the next year. They had been prepared to bring the cats with them for part of the trip to leave them with a family member- preparations including installing chicken wire in the back of their car for a UFC style cage. It was amazing. So I offered and was happy to have them.

What I have learned in my first days as a temporary cat owner...

1) the girl cat and I cannot sleep in the same room. The status of this decision will be reassessed at a later date once she has settled in and become more acquainted with the new environment. Right now, she doesn't recognized that my face is different from the mattress and tends to stand on it at inopportune times, such as 3 AM when I am trying to sleep.

2) the boy cat is Houdini reincarnated. He can open cabinets without opposable thumbs, and compress his body to fit through 3 inch spaces. This is quite a feat, because he is quite a substantial cat. I discovered this last night after I tore my house apart looking for him. I opened the back door to find him, much to my horror, sitting expectantly on the other side of it. Windows are now opened exclusively from the top. Actually, my roommate and I had held a powwow over the bathroom window a few days before, in the bathroom, which is about on par with a 2 by 3 janitorial closet. We figured it was too high and too thin a space for him to get through. WRONG.

3) both cats appreciate singing.

4) both cats are apparently tone deaf, because I know I sure am, but they seem to enjoy it all the same.

I decided to send the cat owners weekly status reports. This first report included essentially what I have written above. Hopefully, my office does not discover that I might be eccentric as a result.

Cheers!

Using "nigh" in a sentence.

For the last several weeks now, I've appeared on a radio show. I channel the persona: George. George is a Maya shaman who helps people find their balance with the earth and cosmos through pilgrimage and new age-y hocus pocus once they've had balance tipping experiences like liposuction. Because, really, once you've had the fat removed from your keister and injected into your face, how can you be anything but out of sync with the universe at large? ...of course my name isn't really George. That'd be ridiculous. It's Jorge.

It's occurred to me that most of the things I make up and spout out over the air waves in that one hour a week are totally socially unacceptable and the least PC ideas to promote ever. Essentially, if anybody at my office actually listened to this at some point, I'm pretty sure that I'd be in deep crap.

Last week I believe we got into the subject of male lactation. This most recent show was pretty firmly centered on how man feels like an island despite all of the social connection crap like twitter and facebook. I am proud to say that I do not twitter or tweet or whatever that's called. Okay, so I facebook, but I'm working on that. It's going to take a 12 step program, I know it.

Anyway, what this leads to is that the last month or so has been an incredible learning experience. I moved into my new house with new roommates and they're the most amazing individuals I've ever met. I'm typically a little socially withdrawn, a hermit if you will. Sure, I gave a speech in college about how my comfort zone is not having one and that likewise you should challenge yourself to go and seek out new places, people, experiences... Why yes, I do love traveling. I thoroughly enjoy going someplace new with no language skills (up until I need to find a public restroom, then it's like the most uncomfortable game of charades ever). I like meeting new people... as a part of my JOB. On my own time, I usually stay in, and savor the solitude. While that's good me time, it doesn't make for a terribly socially functional person. My roommates have challenged me to go out, to get to know people, and all the while, to be myself. Extravagantly.

In all seriousness though, I'm pretty lucky. I thought I was past that stage of making lifelong friends but I was clearly and happily mistaken. I'm also in denial because one of them is leaving to go back home- home that's across the continent. It's safe to say that I'm about to be devastated.

Now for your viewing amusement... hopefully the link works.... I've been fiddling with the damn thing for nigh an hour.

http://www.ted.com/talks/elaine_morgan_says_we_evolved_from_aquatic_apes.html

...Because it seemed like a good idea at the time.

That really is the name of the game, isn't it? It seemed like a good idea at the time- that's why we're doing anything that we're doing. "Why are you in the field that you are?" "because it seemed like a good idea at the time." "why were you running with scissors?" "...it seemed like a good idea at the time." "What happened to your hand? is that a machete? what were you doing with the machete?" "...it seemed like a good idea at the time?"

As you can see from the somewhat frightening train of thought displayed in the previous paragraph, there's a running trend right now in my life- I mean aside from the ongoing trend of various school work-related issues inducing feelings of wanting to impulsively play in traffic. Life is ridiculous. There's just no way around it. Currently, this stems from the "It seemed like a good idea at the time... to go on that date." Believe you me, it pretty much never is. I know, I know, the gypsy woman at Quincy Market promised I'd be getting married soon so why give up now? I'm pretty sure that given the trajectory of the current trend that this would be a poor move, and much more on the side of an error worthy of a Greek tragedy than a blessing. I wish I was joking. Luckily for you, I'm not.

Yes, I recently ventured back into dating. Possibly 'nough said. But I'll continue. Harkening back (is that even a valid phrase? Oh well it is now) to my last post yet again, the gypsy woman's blessing/prophetization (might also be a made up word) is turning out to be such that I might be justified in going back and demanding a refund. I mean, I can't because I don't actually want to get married. Heck, I don't even really want to force it, but situationally, online dating "seemed like a good idea at the time." Anyway, the dress she sold me was pretty.

But what leads to this being a good idea at the time? I'll pose the question: When you're back from a country that's 12 time zones away with the mother of all jetlags, you have no money, no ID, no credit card, what do you do? I'll tell you: if you're single, you sit at your computer at 4 o'clock in the morning because for you it's technically the middle of the afternoon and you're not seeing the backs of your eyelids anytime soon regardless of how tired and delirious you actually are. Then when you see one of those creepy ads on your e-mail sidebar (you know, the ones that mirror the content of your latest e-mails? you tell your friend "I like peas" and you end up with ads all over the place spouting headlines about "fresh produce!" "organic peas!" "green dye!" and my personal favorite "find peas in the yellow pages!") that says: "make a free profile," you do it. Why? because it seems like a good idea at the time- note that in order for it to be a good idea, that time is when you're jetlagged beyond coherency and you can't focus enough to do something constructive like read, and everything else in the city is closed.

So what am I doing? Nothing anymore. I seem to be getting the attempt out of my system. It's sort of like giving birth, as it's been explained to me. You forget the insanity of your last "relationship" almost immediately (bunny ears are necessary in this case). Well, I cyclically will attempt to date, then turn unhappy when they realize "oh weird, you really are going to keep up this prolonged adolescence with this ridiculous job, aren't you? can you like, not?" and then I will run for cover. After awhile I'll forget (because I have the memory retention prowess of a domesticated gold fish) and think "huh, that wasn't really so bad, maybe I'll give it another shot". Then all hell breaks loose and I throw up my hands and wonder what ailed my head enough to make me think that that was ever a good idea. Okay so it's not like that right now, but it's not my favorite place to be ever. I'm going to have to see that gypsy woman about a blessing or remedy or some such to ward off the selective amnesia.

What's in the Water?

Has anybody else noticed that EVERYBODY is getting married/engaged/having babies? No, seriously, there are albums all over facebook of surprise weddings that I never saw coming. I'm not the only one who feels like this is a frightening development and that maybe there is something in the water. Por ejemplo: I was talking to my oldest friend about this, and mentioned, "oh did you see that so-and-so got married?" there was a pause, followed by "...To a man?" "I know, right?"

I'm not saying I need to get married, I'm just sort of surprised. But I have been in 2 weddings and am coming up on my third performance next October. Yes, it's a performance. If it sees me in a dress, with make up and shoes other than sandals, then it's a performance. I liked those weddings though, probably because I know the people and love them dearly. What's that saying? Three times a bridesmaid? Oh well, it happens.

1) Back when I was a teenager, I was in my lovely cousin's wedding. It was great, my uncle had a string trio/quartet/gang of string instrumentalists play at the reception. At some point they played a Celtic set and the groom and his family (they're Irish) hit the floor step dancing. I was impressed.

2) Last year, I was in a childhood friend's wedding. That was a spectacular endeavor, let me tell you. I got fitted for the dress and then promptly left for the field. All summer. I went from France to Turkey to Guatemala to Honduras and it was a little on the ridiculous side. Last time I went to Guatemala I came back about 20 pounds heavier. I know right? I went from 115 to 135. I'm pretty sure that was horrendous. Okay so gaining a few inches (or like 5) on my waist wasn't my favorite, but really, the horrifying part was that I had to buy new clothes. Let's just say that I'm not a fan of shopping. when you hate shopping or being around a lot of people, suddenly being faced with the fact that you have to replace ALL of your pants feels what I would imagine knowing you're about to be hit by a car feels like- you've just walked into the cross walk and realized that car just isn't stopping... I mean, especially when you've spent the last 20 years getting away with wearing what mom brings home (from 6th grade...), and hand me downs from your god mother's sons (things that I love and STILL keep in my closet).

I mean, part of this phobia comes from the fact that mom insists every article of clothing, and therefore all pairs of pants, are sewn differently. Yes, I still go shopping with my mom when I have to get clothes. 1) if she left it up to me, I'd put it out of my mind and it'd just never get done 2) if I am forced into doing it out of necessity by myself, odds are that I can't be trusted and will botch it somehow. Well, I'm improving recently... But anyway, it isn't enough just to try on a size and see that it fits and go pick up a stack of size whatever pants. Oh no, no no, if you need 3 - 5 pairs of pants, and decide to go simple (as I will to get out of the store as soon as possible, damnit) and pick 3 - 5 pairs of the SAME pair of pants, you are stuck in the dressing room for the next hour and a half of your life trying on every pair of size whatever pants to make sure they fit as well as pair-of-pants-take-one because "No, Lauren, they are NOT the same! Look, this one has a funny pocket..."

Back from that tangent, yeah, so I came back the week of the wedding terrified that I wasn't going to fit into the dress. I had absolutely monitored all of my eating habits that summer- dress fit fine, was even a touch big. I can't say that I wasn't pleased. While I was in Honduras, I had commented to a friend's boyfriend, who happens to be Mexican, that I needed to be on a diet. He thought this over with grave contemplation etched into his face for a few seconds before carefully responding, with deliberation: "Yes." His English sounds phenomenal because he listens to American music all the time. But he didn't actually have any idea what the hell I was saying, so positively responding "yes" seemed like the thing to do. His girlfriend was horrified. Last time he and I had a talk that ended like this was

Me: "Wow, your English is a lot better than my Spanish!"
Him: "...yes."
Her: "NO!"

You see where this is going. So anyway, I kept myself well enough limited on insane food intake to fit in the dress and attend this wedding in decent shape (haha, shape. Like in-shape. I think I'm funny...).

3) My other childhood friend is getting married next October. I'm ridiculously excited about this. Her fiancee proposed in Paris, and I'm pretty sure that he's my new favorite person. I get updates from time to time in my inbox about the state of the union (haha, more funny...). I love it. They've known each other since high school, it's like a fairy tale romance.

So here I am, I bought a dress from this Ukrainian woman in Quincy a few weeks ago. She asked me where I was from, what school, etc, and when I finally broke down and told her she, being the stellar saleswoman she was, called me a genius. This led to, "you have a boyfriend?" "um... no." Seeing this as a mistake, she turned mystic, but still very nice of course. She blessed my dress, gave me a discount for being a foreigner, and told me I would definitely be getting married soon. Awesome. Actually, it makes me wonder if that's what this is all about? This woman has been blessing dresses and inducing marriage all over the place. Half of my graduating class DOES come to Boston/live here.

On the subject of Office Renovations...

Alright, I can admit it. I'm procrastinating. I've been up since before 7 am, a weird trend that's marked this week. I've been productive, writing various things for a few hours only after taking a 3 mile run. but now I'm at the lunch time crawl. Which is ridiculous, because I ate an entire pizza by myself last night... I know, that made no logical sense. I'll leave you with this tid bit... and then go back to typing.

"So, now's not the time to ask for the approval to renovate my office into a replica of the cockpit of the Millennium Falcon? ...don't give me that look. If you can think of another way that I can include 'punch it, Chewie' into daily conversation, I'd love to hear it."

:)

What month is this? Is this really August?

I've come to the conclusion that I exist within a black hole, and its vacuum travels with me wherever I go. No, seriously, how did it get to be August already?

So... I went to China. My wallet was stolen with my passport, my cash, my license, my credit card, even my student ID. In my first hour on Chinese soil. This could be funny, except not really. I spent hour 2 in the police station. At least I could amuse myself with the hilarity of the officers' facial expressions as my friend, who is Chinese, told them my name- which is obviously very far from Chinese. The trend of people speaking at me, and then asking why I was acting like a deaf mute, and then raising an eyebrow and dropping a jaw at "What? Huh? I'm sorry, I don't speak Chinese" continued throughout the duration of my trip. Actually, it only got funnier as custody (of me) was turned over to a friend who is tall, blond, blue eyed, and speaks fluent Mandarin. Perhaps the best reaction ever was on a bus. An elderly gentleman gave my arm a tug as I was standing on the crowded bus, so that I could sit in the newly vacated seat beside him. He seemed very amused by my dress which was... distinctly field clothing, and chuckled to himself as he inspected a corner of my obviously not-so-feminine shirt. I would sort of smile, nod, and offer him some of what ever the hell it was I was eating. I think it was Baodzu... anyway, as we neared my stop, my friend came up from the back of the bus, and poked me to let me know we were getting off. I asked her to tell him I didn't speak Chinese, because I hadn't had the heart to tell him myself. She leaned in, and told a now very bewildered man that the girl sitting next to him with a very Chinese face was not Chinese, didn't speak Chinese, and that she was sorry. He stared for about a minute before dissolving into a torso shaking laugh. There are other stories, but I'll save them. Otherwise, I saw the beautiful Sichuan countryside, and hiked the tallest mountain in China, Emeishan. There were monkeys. They were enormous. But Emeishan was an incredible thing in and of itself. On the way there, we visited Leshan, which has the largest Buddha, carved into a rock face, and walked in the Yangtze.

So the mountains of China are all outfitted with stairs for hiking trails. This might seem more helpful but actually, it's like the mother of all staircases, and it's hell on your knees. However, the biodiversity on the mountain was incredible. I keep journals when I travel, and I write in them religiously.

Excerpt: "The stone steps, some of which were recycled grave stones etched with characters, were very low, straining the knees. As we walked, I started to observe the wealth of ecological richness about us. Colorful butterflies frittered about in the tree canopy and up and over the path. Earthworms, formidable in size to snakes, iridescent, sneaking across the steps. What I believe were even planaria, glistening along, narrow bodies clinging to the earth as they inched forward so smoothly that they may as well have been gliding by a mechanism imperceptible to the human eye. Slugs as big as potatoes, lurking everywhere, but even so with a lovely camouflage encasing them to disguise their surfaces as fallen, curling leaves..."

So now I'm back. I got over the jetlag better than expected. Mom picked me up for the family vacation the next day, and after lunch on the way up, I apparently passed out in the front seat for the next 5 hours. When I woke up, we were at the cabin. I groggily got out of the vehicle, and was just coherent enough to drag myself inside and find my room- since my sister and I were sharing the room with the bunk beds, and she'd claimed the bottom, I somehow made it up the ladder and crashed for the next 15 hours or so. all in all, a pretty spectacular performance. Completely slept through dinner. It was great.

Maine was wonderful. My uncle came and he's just been diagnosed with cancer... they're pretty sure he'll be okay, but we played a lot of board games, he won all of them, and wandered around the coast. I went back to running and would go out every morning for 2-5 miles, eat roadside blueberries (I know, healthy, right?), and pick lupines. I did a lot of work on my prospectus. This was, of course, vetoed by my director, but at the time I felt productive.

Back at school, I still run 2-4 miles every morning, or at least 6 days a week. My vegetables in the garden are... well, they're stunted. I have a patch of vegetables so stunted by the incessant rain that they're miniaturized. I can make perhaps half a salad. At least it'll be adorable.

The highlight of my day today, which broke up the paper writing, was going out for lunch... and a little more. It was splendid!

Now, for your viewing amusement: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e_TIOfUEudo

My awesome roommate found this and passed it my way. I appreciated it. I was on the floor laughing. Cheers!