Some things

Gizang* (of 81...that's inmazing--that means inconceivably amazing--I will be sending a present to my 100th follower), I've been working on a post that's been chilling in my drafts for about three weeks now and I can't seem to get myself to finish it, Mortal Kombat style.

It's not like it's some epically awesome or even personally wrenching post. It just involves a lot of copying and pasting and is actually about design and interiors and stuff that actually fits into the format of the current incarnation of this blog. But it's just taking me my sweet-ass time for some reason. Maybe I need to stop cruising around the block in my Caravan, trying to start some fringe religion--because hey! I have the church bus all ready, so why not? That will solve my airbrush conundrum.#

* Speaking of copying and pasting...I looked up and had originally written "prize for my 100th follower" and decided I wanted to change it to "present for my 100th follower" since it's not like this blog is a sweepstakes and the "iz" in prize somehow got copied into the opening word of this post, thus altering "Gang" into "Gizang," which I like and am keeping.

ANYWAY

So here's some things in lieu of my real post:

1. Thanks so much everyone for your words of encouragement for Harvey. I read every one of your comments to him**, and he appreciated it so much, he didn't even lick his ass the whole time I was reading it to him. I took him back to the vet on Tuesday, and even though he's feeling much better, he's now on two more meds (For those keeping score at home, that's three pills, two types of eye drops and one type of powder. One of my co-workers said with all these lame drugs lying around, it's like I live with a really shitty band.)

2. If I were a fairy (faerie?) and left magic dust wherever I went, in addition to rainbow glitter, mine would be littered with bobby pins and clear hair ties. They're all over our house....Marc opened a book last night and a couple of each fell out and I swear I found two bobby pins in the dishwasher this morning.

3. After almost choking on a hard-boiled egg earlier this week, I'm pretty sure that's how I'm going to die when I'm home alone and left with my own devices. Remember when that lady died on Six Feet Under when she choked on her dinner? And Miranda on Sex and the City also almost did eating Chinese food? That's going to be me. Also, what was the deal with early-aughts HBO shows being obsessed with single ladies choking? And with shows that started with S-x?

ANYWAY ANYWAY

My situation is only made worse by my nightly ritual of slathering lotion on my raptor-claw dry hands and then deciding that my lips also deserve to be as adequately lubricated. Once my hands are all lotioned up, there's no way I can pry off the top of any sort of lip balm, so I end up violently biting the lid off in frustration and almost swallowing it in the process. Now I'm paralyzed by the vision of Marc snoozing away in the room next door while I stagger around the bathroom clawing at my throat and desperately trying to give myself the Heimlich but our counter is too low and I keel over and conk my head on the toilet.

So yeah, maybe I should occupy my time and hands with writing that legit post instead of fretting about all this. Thanks for bearing with me.

# One of my friends dubbed the van "The Dreamcatcher," which I love. I think that name will inform what's airbrushed on the sides. But thanks from the bottom of my heart for your rad suggestions.

** This is a lie. I'm a crazy cat lady, but I'm not nuts enough to read blog comments to my cat. Yet. But seriously, thanks. It means a ton.