As some of you may have noticed—it has been three weeks since my last blog post.
Believe me, it has been killing me too.
It’s been an insane three weeks at work.
Days I would typically write my blog I have been on the streets.
Covering student protests, the death of a former mayor, the death of a high school basketball player and in between taking a trip to a legislative media day in Jefferson City.
Speak of insane: My morning was pure crap.
One—running late for work, so that adds stress.
Two—Stop as Starbucks for destressing coffee and they get my order wrong.
Almost completely backwards.
I order a grande iced mocha non-fat with no whip and light ice.
They give me a tall iced white mocha with whip and what appeared to be tons of ice.
Now I have to get out of the car and go in.
Next stop Sam’s Club to pick up a lasagna for dinner.
Dinner at mom’s and it has to be picked up in the morning because it takes hours to thaw.
I may have arbitrarily blew up at her.
The convo went like this:
SAM’S CLUB DOOR GREETER: Can I see your card?
Are you a business member?
LADY: You have to be a business member to shop now. You can come back at 10:30.
(It’s currently 9:20 a.m.)
LADY: Yes. Or would you like to upgrade?
ME: No, I don’t want to upgrade my damn card.
Are you telling me that I am in the store, I have money to spend and you won’t let me shop?
LADY: That is our policy.
ME: Well that’s not very convenient is it?! Fine! I will just take my peasant money and leave this elitist store!
LADY: *jaw drops and she says nothing*
I should probably go apologize.
Damn pent up morning rage.
It was the holiday known in the Letterman house as Sertoma Chili Cookoff weekend.
Adam was so giddy he was singing all morning.
I made eight phone calls this morning.
I left eight messages.
I am waiting.
I found some new black pens in the supply closet.
In the style I like.
The day just got a bit better.
It must be food festival season because Adams and I also attended the Eureka Springs chocolate festival.
That or we just really like food festivals?
Turns out there was more talk of chocolate than actual chocolate.
I pictured pastry chefs in white coats with silver trays of bon bons and truffles.
We got a line of smelly Arkansas people and vendors who wanted us to buy their products in exchange for a chocolate covered pretzel.
Give me the pretzel lady.
Keep your random chocolate shit.
I think Chuck is in her toddler phase.
I’m sitting the the couch—here’s the scene:
CHUCK: I’m going to lay on your lap mom. I’m so cute. *ball*
ME: Aww, nice kitten.
CHUCK: What you have buttons on your shirt?! Must. Bite. Them.
ME: Stop or I’m flipping you off.
Jump back up.
ME: Damn it Chuck! Stop it you little bitch.
ME: That’s it. No more lap.
CHUCK: FINE MOM! I’ll lay next to you and poke you arm with my one claw.
ME: Stop it.
ME: That’s it—you’re going in time out.
And I locked her in the back half of the house.
CHUCK: I hate you mom. Let me out and I’ll be nice. Purrrr. I’m so cute.
ME: Whatever you snot cat.
It’s a beautiful day in the Ozarks.
Upwards of 70 degrees today.
It’s only 47 days until we have been married a year.
Can you believe it?
It’s gone by so fast.
We are planning a 5 day 4 night say in Hot Springs to celebrate.
I can’t wait.
German food, spa treatments, art walk and the Arlington.
Little bit of married people heaven.
Speak of married people.
OMGlee last night.
I had ramen for lunch.
It was hot.
It’s warm outside.
That was off putting.
Dinner with friends from the Lou tonight.
They are swinging through on the way home from a funeral.
Wish it was on better circumstances.
Still happy to see them.
I’m glad I don’t live in Virginia.
No baby adoption for the gays?
To paraphrase Adam, Virginia is only for lovers when it we say so.