Tues, Dec. 14
... Close by me forever
What in my life is exciting? Not much right now, I don't think.
Well, we had the work Christmas party last year, and in an amazing recovery from last year's gingerbread house fiasco, the girls kicked the boys' butts. Yes, that's right, our gingerbread house was amazing. Theirs sucked. Oh, how the mighty have fallen, how the tables have turned, and all those fun cliches.
Uh huh. Exciting. And when I got out to my car after the party, there was a cat inside the car. It either got in when I went to get my camera, or Craig put it in at some point during the evening. So now, there are tiny paw prints all over my dashboard. And, somewhat ironically, it's one of the cats that came from my parents' house. One of the ones that makes me the cat-in-law to the Hanson/Elliott/Finlay clan.
Anyways.
What else? Today was Blair's last day at work until January--he leaves tomorrow evening for London, and he gets to spend Christmas in England with his dad's side of the family. Oddly enough, it didn't really hit me until an hour before he was off, and then I was a wreck for the rest of the shift. Heh. I'm so pathetic.
Ismarys' birthday is on Thursday, and I have her present sitting at home, waiting to be wrapped. But it's all bought, the card is signed (by both of us, amazingly--although only I actually wrote in it. To quote Blair: "I'm a signer, not a writer."), and all I need is a box. Considering where I work, that shouldn't be a problem to obtain. Especially considering the fact that the order comes in tomorrow.
Ah, crap. I'll be in charge of receiving the order, since Mister In Charge won't be there. Which is fine--I don't mind--but it means that it'll take twice as long to put away. Oh well. It'll keep us occupied.
I have in my hot little hands a script for Christmas Eve. I also have, in my buzzing little brain, ideas for Easter. And somewhere along the paths of my semi-consciousness, ideas and plans for next Christmas are cogitating. My co-workers have seen much of the Anne Frank script lately, as I've started looking at (and for) cues. And, I need to re-read (several times, probably) the Under a Bridge, Along a River script before callbacks/auditions on January 10.
Uh, Laurel? The whiteheads of your thoughts? Gross. But, you know, it kind of reminds me of a little farm of blackheads that we once knew.
And speaking of farms... I re-read our "Top Ten" list from vanning 2003. Heh. The vintage car. The dinners. The stinky prune juice. The undercooked sausages. The planets that almost killed me. Our window sticky notes, including my all-time favorite: "Porn Baby!!" The big grasshopper... and bee... and moth. And the biggest life lesson? When all else fails, flip the light switch! Ah, what fun.
infinite || abyss
posted at 8:30 p.m.
