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Monday, Jul. 21, 2003 / 6:20 p.m. ~I Got a Good Review!~ I only glanced at my Yahoo! start page, saw that 60 people were killed by a 'mortar bomb' in Liberia, and that we're going in, and had to quickly click on Diaryland instead. I've been wanting to write here all day, and work was really busy, and well, sue me for being selfish, not that I can go to Monrovia and help anyone, and sure, sure, the protests will continue, there's a big one in October, looks like, but now, for now, it's about me and my life, and taking care of me, and the girls. Yesterday I awoke with a headache from hell, pure torturous pain, and I didn't know why, I still don't know why, and I had to take Tylenol after my coffee, or didn't 'have' to, but wanted to preserve my sanity, and it worked, for the first time in recent memory - maybe the empty stomach helped? I mention this because today I felt fine. I tossed and turned, quite literally, all night and all morning, but no headache. And as I was leaving my apartment, as is the case around here, something has to be going on, something weird and out of the ordinary, whatever ordinary is, there was someone banging on one of the upstairs apartments' doors. Bang, bang, bang. Again. Repeat. Finally, "Open the door! It's the Sheriff!". Lovely. I exited slowly, the man turned to look at me, I said a chipper, "Good morning", and he did likewise, smile and all. Bang, bang, bang. And again, "Open the door!!! It's the Sheriff!!!", and I said, as I passed, "That's not what you want to hear first thing in the morning", not really thinking, but it was kind of funny, or so I thought, but I was interrupted as the dweller opened the door, and the Sheriff said, "Why didn't you open the door?", and the woman began making excuses, and I went to work. Jane was out, and in her absence Veronica talked to anyone who'd listen. Just little tales of what's transpired since she saw us all last, or whatever crosses her mind. She really must verbalize every thought, or so it seems. I was getting really frustrated about the time the Manager (M) sat a woman from another department with me so she might hear my phone calls, a little training exercise, mostly because the other department had NO work to do. This woman, let's call her Yolanda, is one I've seen over and over again, but she never smiles at me, never acknowledges I exist, but I've seen her smile and it lights up her face, more so than with others, for when she is not smiling it seems she is scowling. I made her laugh over and over just to see her smile. And because I felt I needed to entertain her if she was going to sit in my cubicle. Appropriately enough, I had crrrraaaazzzy calls! Just wild. And we made faces at each other and laughed once the calls were over. Then, then, then, home at lunch, I logged on to the Interweb, as I am wont to do, and saw that Emily reviewed my diary for Ms Lovejoy's diary of diary reviews, and people, really, read her review (the "Ms Lovejoy" link a few words back), it's the nicest thing anyone has said about me in a long time, if not ever. And not about me, not really, but this diary, and she likes it, and had good objective reasons why. It was flattering and kind and helpful, and it really brightened my day, sort of boosted my confidence, a far cry from the smack I've gotten around here in the past, the guestbook hate, etc. So, yeah, nice, nice, nice. Thank you again, Emily, that was great. I squeezed Norman at lunch too, and patted Gladysn's flat, flat head, and it was good. I'd recommend others squeeze Norman, and pat Gladysn's flat, flat head, but I'm not sure the girls would participate as willingly as with me. Still, back to work with cat hair on my clothes, and I was ready to bite the bullet. So, now I'm home, I'll be eating leftover Bolognese sauce with fusilli, but adding extra tomato paste, and maybe more beef broth. I must say, and I must write it in the margin of the recipe in the cookbook from whence it came, skip the salt. I scoffed at the 1 whole teaspoon, but I put it in anyway! Even though I added more carrot and more celery than called for (only 1/2 small carrot, 1/2 celery stalk! - clearly not following the recipe exactly, and being proud of me for that), thinking it must be right if it's in the recipe, if it's written. There are errors in recipes, in books, I should've known better. And I'm not exactly kicking myself, but once too much salt is in there it can't be taken out. Although... I think there's some tip, in some tips and tricks book somewhere, and I probably have one, a tips and tricks book, about how to make something less salty once you've oversalted... but since I have leftover tomoato paste, I'll add more of that. Really though, with beef broth in there, I should've omitted the salt, altogether. Must make notation in margin. One more thing, I guess, as I've typed a lot today (or 'keyed' as they say in the biz), and my wrist is hurting a bit, and I'm hungry for leftover pasta, with less salt, I got notice today in the mail that my Harry Potter books are on order. I was kind of excited to dive in, from the beginning, see what all the fuss is about. But it will have to wait. Okay, everybody go to Ms Lovejoy's diary reviews and get your diary reviewed (although you may not have the pleasure of Emily being the reviewer), because it's fun. Well, if it's a good review, it's fun, sure, but I didn't expect much, I think I tend to expect the worst in those situations. Better that way. Time to heat some grub, wake up the cats (who are disoriented now that their food is no longer kept in a bag in the closet! - big change!!!! - it's in a jar!), and watch some "GL"s on tape, and then the ridiculous "For Love Or Money 2" - I'm not sure how much I'll commit myself to this role reversal part two crap, we shall see. (When oh when is the gay dating show on, the "Boy Meets Boy"???) Cost of the War in Iraq
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