Anyway, I'm here. I'm back home after a hard morning plowing the hearth or whatever people did when they used to really work hard all morning. And in fact, I did work hard this morning--my shoulders are all hurting from being tense. My work has changed at work, and I'm, like, really busy now all the time. But it's fun busy, you know what I mean? I get to write more, and when I do that the time just flies.
Flyyy. Flyyyy. FLYYY against the sky! So high I almost touched the sky. Thank you, thank you, thank god for you, the wind beneath my wings.
Which I just typed "wongs" and now I've got the giggles.
This morning, before my iPhotos went wonky, I'm certain I had all sorts of pithy things to tell you and now they're gone. Poof. Out of my head. But I have had some other pithy thoughts.
One is, why don't bumper-sticker makers and buyers alike realize that if the bumper sticker is more than, say, five words, we can't read it? I just saw one whole quote on a bumper sticker the way home, and I was all, dammit. I wanna know if you're my people or not. I want to know whether to give you a cold glare when I pass you.
The other is, why is it that the one thing know-it-alls don't know is that no one likes a know-it-all?
And my third pithy thought, (thereby rendering calling the one above this one "the other" a mistake) is who is the god or goddess who invented vanilla almond butter? Mother of god, it's like I'm giving oral to an angel. It's so delicious.
Other than that, my mind is a blank. Other than the part where I can see my mom pursing her lips over the "oral to an angel" thing.
You know, sometimes, I'll be going along in my life, doing things like walking Edsel...
It seems like Edsel is going though the same thing. He seems good and then he isn't. I woke up to him on the other pillow the other morning, a thing that would not have happened had Talu been here. He always had to sleep at the bottom of the bed. Lu got the other pillow.
I was also going to show you a photo from the happy hour I went to last night, but did I mention photos, wonky? I can't find it anywhere. It was the Irish pub Ned and I used to go to all the time, near his old apartment. The happy hour was upstairs, so I was breezing by the downstairs bar when I heard, "HEY!"
The bartender was waving me down.
"Were you just gonna WALK RIGHT PAST me?" he asked.
"Oh! I...well, I didn't see you!" I also didn't know you'd remember me. We fist-bumped.
The happy hour was a work thing, and people were all, "Come here often, June?" Nice. Hey, we need someone to write this copy. Oh, I know! Let's ask that barfly, June!
All right, I'm out. Gotta put my snout to the grindstone.
Barfly June, saying goodbye.