At least I'm trying

I went to a party tonight. You can tell because there are shirts and hangers all over my bed. My outfit was approved by Tracy via texted photos. I got compliments on Solo's shoes by the wildest dresser there: a girl whose bedroom apparently consists of a bed and racks of clothing. That's what she told us; her friend confirmed it. I consider myself complimented.

I was not the first to leave- I stayed until the party started to peter out. Can you believe that? And wait- I talked to people I didn't know! I even started conversations! Some attempts failed (it's hard to talk to a married couple), but overall it went very well.

I was also complimented by my friend, who called me "an amazing artist who makes really marketable designs." What?

Today, while shopping for a gift for my friend, I was at a bookstore and saw what a book signing looks like. It looks lonely. I imagined an empty store, but it's worse than that. Everyone shops around you while you sit at a table and try to look busy. I learned that I should probably avoid bookstores on book signing days, because I will feel bad for the author and buy his book. I went to ask him questions and was so red already from being socially nervous that I launched right into a question while he was saying hi. Being Social Lesson #1: Don't forget the greeting.

The back cover said he was a teacher, so I asked him about that. We chatted a little (good!), and then he asked if I had school-age children. I said "I did," and then I had to add more because it sounded like I killed Ant. I explain that it was my ex's kid, so now I'm realizing that I'm sharing my irrelevant dating status, redder still because I'm not interested, but now he thinks I am. He continues the (struggling) conversation, but switches pronouns to "we," politely indicating that he is taken. Shortly thereafter, his wife comes and stands nearby, politely indicating that the conversation is over.

I was only trying to be nice, dude. I felt so bad for you sitting there alone, straightening your piles of unsold books that me and my sad conversation skills limped over to try and offer a break from the uncomfortable silence.

"Can I sign that for you?" he asked.

"Sure."

Jenny,
It was great meeting you!
Xncjskcbskaofjeu (illegible signature)

Sure. Your book had better be funny.

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As you can see...

... I was not exaggerating.

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Some things are just meant to be.

Just a minute ago, I heard the telltale hurking sounds and ran to grab Mini before she barfed on the carpet.

"NOMININOMININO!" I cried.

She ran from me, of course, hurking along the way, but I caught up with her by the bathroom. I grabbed her and put her on the linoleum away from the rug, holding her in place loosely, which, translated into cat language, I think should mean "feel free to keep vomiting, just don't move from this spot." Mini obediently hurked in place until vomit actually started coming up, at which point she jerked out of my hands, reached hard, and barfed on the bathroom rug.

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Tell me if you watch it.

I read a list on Buzzfeed of the movies that you should never, ever watch. You know where this is going.

Most of them sounded horrible and completely avoidable. There was a lot of being awful for awful's sake, but I'm sure some intended to make a statement: artistic or otherwise. (If I can remember, I'll add the link here tomorrow.) I had already seen one of them: Gummo, or at least enough of it to know I never wanted to watch the rest. If the person who lent it to me is still reading this blog, I'd like to ask what draws you to that movie. Not sarcastically.

Sarcastically, Tracy and I have a periodic giggle over my imaginary dating profile that says something like:

Smokers, drug addicts, and A Clockwork Orange fans need not apply.

But on this list was Dear Zachary: A Letter to a Son About His Father.

Buzzfeed said it was the saddest documentary ever. The title was enough to pull me in. I also think Buzzfeed said not to read a thing about this movie if you're going to watch it, so I did not- not even the blurb on the envelope.

Don't watch this movie... unless like me, you are a sucker for a story, especially one that's true. If so, don't cheat. You will be rewarded by being destroyed... and then amazed. Totally, totally worth it.

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At least I got there eventually.

I was outside reading with Riley,and realized it was time to get ready for Zumba. On the way in, I watched my feet in flip flops and thought about going to that place where you get your feet pampered.

"Podiatry." No, that's the foot doctor, I told myself.

"Mammogram. Instagram." No.  What's the hand one?

"Medicare. Manicure! Podicure... pod... pedicure!" Yeah, that's the one. Jesus Christ. Must have been a long, brain challenging day.

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Shoes make cats happy, too.

Solo and I have a new favorite pair of shoes. As soon as I brought them home, she started nuzzling them. I could not show Mom and Tracy what they looked like, because Solo was busy biting them. Tonight I went to put some shoes on to walk Riley and found Solo lying on one of her favorite shoes, face buried in the heel. This is why you have cats- because they do weird, entertaining things.

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PM snacks need a little protein

Mmmmmm, nectarine.

And mini Snickers.  Why do I have mini Snickers in my desk?  Somebody yell at me.

Ooh, but this is good.  This just means I need to find some protein to bring, since clearly the fruit isn't enough.  Don't beat yourself up, just fix the problem!  How self-helpy of you!

Just don't buy any more mini Snickers.


Mmmmmm, mini Snickers...

Zzzzz channel

Sirius radio made off with the Book Radio channel, so now I am listening to Doctor Radio. It's The Orthopedics show! How fascinating.

Actually, it kind of is.

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Who are the doggies in your neighborhood?

Riley, Leo, Chandler, Reggie, Dobby, Boo Boo, Gatsby, Momo, Norboo, Lady, Frosty, Mumu, Whitney, Rocco, and Leroy.

There are some others with normal dog names, but I can't remember them like I can these guys.

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I'll probably have nightmare now.

Today's movie was Watcher in the Woods. It's Disney, but comes with a warning for parents to pre-screeen for pre-teens, and that it's not meant for small children. My parents did not see that part, so I watched it when I was young, and this movie scared me so bad that I couldn't finish watching it. For years, when people talked about really scary movies, I always mentioned this one. No one had ever heard of it, probably because it is not shelved in the horror section.

When I brought it up to the counter at Blockbuster, the guy said, "Hey! I haven't seen this in years!" I told him I was too scared by it as a kid, so I was giving it another shot.

"Really." He said without a question mark. Unimpressed, ok.

I tried this once before: last summer. Chris was working and Ant was spending the night somewhere. It was late, I was alone, and got creeped out quickly. I bailed.

This time, I watched it at noon, and the only part that scared me was when the "dad" kissed his 17-year-old daughter on the lips. Well, there were a couple parts that startled me, but I made it through without covering my eyes this time. The director did almost all horror movies, but wanted to make a Disney movie because they are so "timeless." He did Escape to and from Witch Mountain, but also directed Dirty Mary, Crazy Larry, which was apparently quite popular at the drive in.

I'm glad I finally watched the movie. It's weird because it feels like I have checked off an item that I didn't even know was on my list. As minor of a weight as that might have been, it's still feels like weight that's shed. I wonder what else I have been carrying around?

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They're much more comfortable now.

How long have sneakers come with removable insoles? I just now figured out I have been wearing two. No wonder these shoes have been aggravating me. I'll go take my idiot bow now.

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