Winter's back

I just got back from the grogery store. I feel so sorry for the poor bagger people on days like this. It is about 8 degrees outside, and those people have to keep going in and out all day long for no pay. And what about the little critters outside? Brrr. Minnesota is like the Anti-Desert. Just as inhospitable, but in the opposite way. I hope I get a full-time teaching job in, say, Maui or St. Bart's or something. MMMMmmm. Beaches. Is it Monday yet?

Top Ten Things About Winter I Hate:
1. Getting @#$$%& shocked all the time.
2. Taking a shower in my apartment which has the insulation of a Somalian child.
3. Ice---not nice.
4. The sensation of frozen mucus inside my nose.
5. Salt...salt in the road, salt in my shoes, salt in piles.
6. Trying to get gas without taking off my gloves.
7. Hibernation instinct....you are ravenous ALL THE TIME.
8. Darkness...daylight for about 7 hours.
9. Cold feet.
10. Long John's...good for outside, torture indoors.

Home

After all the traveling around for Thanksgiving, I'm exhausted. I've been surrounded by family and I've enjoyed large amounts of food, but the most contentment I felt was waking up in my love's arms in the world's smallest hotel room in one of Wisconsin's biggest tourist traps. Times have changed and things have shifted, and home is something completely different. Home is her.

This Shit is Bananas

I am hearby forbade. Forbidden. I have been forbode. Never again can I go to Banana Rupublic by myself. Never. Rally together the troops, and have an intervention if I threaten to go alone. It can not happen. I can not resist Banrep's charms; Her classy clothes and soft fabrics. I can not ignore her cunning coupons nor can I cut her sleek credit card out of my life. I look nice, and I can't afford food. Hmmm. Food.

The Dark Side

I am an abuser. I am a horrible person. Today began like any other day...I woke up. Paul and I had talked about a fall fun activity, but seeing as he is still not at home, I think he may be having fall fun without me. These women folk tend to get in the way of guy time. No worries, I thought, I will learn Italian! Magnifico! So I get the ole' Prego sixth edition off the shelf and log onto the website where they have free 'quiz' things. How handy! Naturally, Scat, being the uber controlling, attention demanding, mega-bitch that she is jumps on the desk to block my view. Normally, a tense pet issue like this could be solved by a little petting and scratching...maybe a 'pretty kitty' coo or two. But oh, no, not with my panther blooded mutt cat. She won't let you touch her. So, being the patient person that I am, I just stretched my self to the right as to see the screen. Thinking I'd foiled her, I continued on in my quest to become fluent in Italian- a quest that currently involves counting to one hundred and remembering how to ask where the bathroom is. Anyhow, I'm getting really into it, when out of nowhere, SCAT! sinks a claw into my typing hand. This was met by a very stern "No!" and a yank away from me. Scat, fully intent to express her discontent and anger, interpreted this reaction as an invitation for her to stab me in the finger extremely deeply, and then try to run away free of charge. Well...I will not be abused. I will not be made to quiver in my own home. To be scared of a ten pound animal. Oh no. In an act of fury, I went to spank her, but this led to more claws in flesh, and before I knew it...I crossed the line. That's right. I am a cat abuser. Keep your animals away from me. I pulled that little trick right up by her tail and she said "OUCH! DAMN! SHIT!", of course it came out as a cat shreik of pain. Then she found herself flying out of my room and into the hall. So, needless to say, after this domestic dispute things are a little tense at the Roper ranch. Scat has been under the bed for two hours, and I have been enjoying the freedom while simultaneously suffering from the guilt. I think we might be getting divorced.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.