Sundays
My alarm is set for 8:00; I get out of bed at 8:25. The turtle doves outside sound mysteriously like owls. At 8:30, Mom, Abby, and I pile into the Kia Soul and head to Starbucks. I wait for Mom to pull-out, and as I do, I watch the big yellow roses droop in the mid-July heat - they look sleepy. We arrive; Abby and I stay in the car, talking nonsense; Mom returns with a tray; we sip our way home.
There was a little boy there, at the Starbucks, with his dad. He was steering a red tricycle; both I and the neighboring prairie dogs thought it was cute.
Prairie dog Paige: See that bike? Cute!
Prairie dog Patrick: Cute! Cute?
Prairie dog Patty: Cute, cute, cute!
Prairie dog Paige: Hey look! There's a seagull!
In case you were wondering: I li(o)ve nowhere near the sea.
Abby's order: Iced Peach Green Tea, unsweetened, with a bacon Gouda sandwich. She always peels the bacon off like some sort of aged scab she wants nothing to do with.
Mom's order: Earl Grey tea with 2% milk. It leaks every time.
My order: Whole-milk latte.
Dad's order: I don't understand the appeal of Starbucks, it's so expensive, I'll just make my own.
Mom cracks two sunshine-y eggs into the buttered pan, and they sizzle and pop and burst. She slides them onto a sea of salt, which blankets avocado slices, which covers a piece of gluten-free toast. This is a good breakfast to have.
We proceed to play D&D; my character, Arya Galanodel (which means Moon Whisper), is now pretty much Spider-Man. She can scale vertical walls no problem, and shoot sticky webs; not sure if she can be kissed upside-down. This is all well and good (good and well?), but I hope I can be Dungeon Master someday.
In other news, did you know Steven Spielberg got rejected from the University of Southern California three times? And that now, for some unbeknownst reason, donates something like half a million bucks to that same school? It doesn't make much sense to me. Maybe it's a sort of ironic, mildly passive aggressive dig at his not-quite Alma matter.
Spielberg: Screw you, USC, look how rich I am now. Have a dollar. Have ten dollars. Have all the dollars, and paper the walls of your Shrine of Shame with them. Ha HA!
I'm listening to Looking for Alaska on audio book. It's okay, so far. The main guy isn't feeling a gooey sentimental sadness, or so he says. I'm suspicious. There's someone named Chip, I think... I'm not really paying attention. Oh, nope, John Green's got my attention now, he used my least favorite word:
'Undulates.'
That's all, really. Everything's quiet and gray and rainy. I bought two overpriced soy candles yesterday:
Caramel Latte
Cozy Nights
A tip: if the top of your soy candle is rough and bumpy after the wax re-solidifies, don't sweat over it. It's normal. In fact, it means your candle's soy wax is superior to all of the other soy wax, which makes you a superior candle owner.
The world hasn't completely ended yet.
Life is good - as good as it can be.
There was a little boy there, at the Starbucks, with his dad. He was steering a red tricycle; both I and the neighboring prairie dogs thought it was cute.
Prairie dog Paige: See that bike? Cute!
Prairie dog Patrick: Cute! Cute?
Prairie dog Patty: Cute, cute, cute!
Prairie dog Paige: Hey look! There's a seagull!
In case you were wondering: I li(o)ve nowhere near the sea.
Abby's order: Iced Peach Green Tea, unsweetened, with a bacon Gouda sandwich. She always peels the bacon off like some sort of aged scab she wants nothing to do with.
Mom's order: Earl Grey tea with 2% milk. It leaks every time.
My order: Whole-milk latte.
Dad's order: I don't understand the appeal of Starbucks, it's so expensive, I'll just make my own.
Mom cracks two sunshine-y eggs into the buttered pan, and they sizzle and pop and burst. She slides them onto a sea of salt, which blankets avocado slices, which covers a piece of gluten-free toast. This is a good breakfast to have.
We proceed to play D&D; my character, Arya Galanodel (which means Moon Whisper), is now pretty much Spider-Man. She can scale vertical walls no problem, and shoot sticky webs; not sure if she can be kissed upside-down. This is all well and good (good and well?), but I hope I can be Dungeon Master someday.
In other news, did you know Steven Spielberg got rejected from the University of Southern California three times? And that now, for some unbeknownst reason, donates something like half a million bucks to that same school? It doesn't make much sense to me. Maybe it's a sort of ironic, mildly passive aggressive dig at his not-quite Alma matter.
Spielberg: Screw you, USC, look how rich I am now. Have a dollar. Have ten dollars. Have all the dollars, and paper the walls of your Shrine of Shame with them. Ha HA!
I'm listening to Looking for Alaska on audio book. It's okay, so far. The main guy isn't feeling a gooey sentimental sadness, or so he says. I'm suspicious. There's someone named Chip, I think... I'm not really paying attention. Oh, nope, John Green's got my attention now, he used my least favorite word:
'Undulates.'
That's all, really. Everything's quiet and gray and rainy. I bought two overpriced soy candles yesterday:
Caramel Latte
Cozy Nights
A tip: if the top of your soy candle is rough and bumpy after the wax re-solidifies, don't sweat over it. It's normal. In fact, it means your candle's soy wax is superior to all of the other soy wax, which makes you a superior candle owner.
The world hasn't completely ended yet.
Life is good - as good as it can be.
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