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Dec. 5th, 2008
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Dec. 5th, 2008 05:30 pmAnd now that I've been all cryptic at people... have some more cryptic. Now with added cryptic context!
( Lyrics: Promises to Keep )
I cry like a baby every time I see that show. I really do.
It's definitely winter. It's cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey outside. In fact, if anyone has a brass monkey? Bring it on down and we'll see if the balls freeze off. And I'm walking over to my aunt's every morning in this weather. BRRR. My fingers have turned to phlangesicles. I get up every morning two hours before I have to leave and shower just so I'm not going out with a wet head.
On the plus side? I really am remembering to do my dance exercises in the morning. Maybe not all of them, or all that I should be doing, but I'm slowly adding them on. So, yeah. That's something I haven't been able to do in at least a couple years. It's coming up on three weeks now waking up (or rather, being woken up by the damn cat), showering, doing my dance exercises. Now if I could just kick this candy habit...
At some point I need to make a list of people I need to get/make presents for and actually assemble the boxes and do it. I work in shipping, goddammit. I should be able to assemble packages and ship them out. This weekend, though? Christmas card time. And icon time. And mailing off that damn card to my cousin. What's it called when your cousin has a kid? DOes that make you an aunt or a cousin once removed? All I know is that it's mother's sister's son's child. Because I'm a geek.
Really, there's not much else of substance. Go ye and leave your address for a holiday card of some kind. Last call. And if you're sending anything big as a breadbox or bigger, leave me a note so I can tell you where to send it, because our mailbox only accomodates letters and even that's a bit slapdash.
Someone remind me that I need to actually, you know, put Sam's TRs up and all that other crap I've written for Sam, if I want to have a link to him on my website. That hasn't been updated in ... um. Yeah. Oops. Bad Jag.
ANYway. Okay, this entry was going to be longer, but it's actually quitting time, which meansMiller Smirnoff time, and kitty time, and putting my cold hands on the boy's neck time, and going home and being warm and happy and content. This week hasn't been particularly good, but happy Jag is happy, and good things have been achieved. This makes a happy Jag.
Peace out, y'all.
( Lyrics: Promises to Keep )
I cry like a baby every time I see that show. I really do.
It's definitely winter. It's cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey outside. In fact, if anyone has a brass monkey? Bring it on down and we'll see if the balls freeze off. And I'm walking over to my aunt's every morning in this weather. BRRR. My fingers have turned to phlangesicles. I get up every morning two hours before I have to leave and shower just so I'm not going out with a wet head.
On the plus side? I really am remembering to do my dance exercises in the morning. Maybe not all of them, or all that I should be doing, but I'm slowly adding them on. So, yeah. That's something I haven't been able to do in at least a couple years. It's coming up on three weeks now waking up (or rather, being woken up by the damn cat), showering, doing my dance exercises. Now if I could just kick this candy habit...
At some point I need to make a list of people I need to get/make presents for and actually assemble the boxes and do it. I work in shipping, goddammit. I should be able to assemble packages and ship them out. This weekend, though? Christmas card time. And icon time. And mailing off that damn card to my cousin. What's it called when your cousin has a kid? DOes that make you an aunt or a cousin once removed? All I know is that it's mother's sister's son's child. Because I'm a geek.
Really, there's not much else of substance. Go ye and leave your address for a holiday card of some kind. Last call. And if you're sending anything big as a breadbox or bigger, leave me a note so I can tell you where to send it, because our mailbox only accomodates letters and even that's a bit slapdash.
Someone remind me that I need to actually, you know, put Sam's TRs up and all that other crap I've written for Sam, if I want to have a link to him on my website. That hasn't been updated in ... um. Yeah. Oops. Bad Jag.
ANYway. Okay, this entry was going to be longer, but it's actually quitting time, which means
Peace out, y'all.