Not content with making him sit in the airport at home for an hour, once he manageed to get on a plane in Chicago, about 30 minutes late, United then made the Main Distractor (among, one assumes, others) sit in the airplane for about an hour on the ground.
Gee, I wonder what I can do to make him feel better when he finally, finally gets here?
My Main Distractor is en route to me. Waiting at his home airport, scheduled to depart at 14:05 local. The time is now 14:43 local, and he’s still on the ground…he may have boarded though.
The kicker is that his airport’s flight tracker lists the departure time as 14:05 local, albeit still on the ground, and the airline’s flight tracker still has an estimated departure time of 14:05, and an estimated arrival time 9 minutes before scheduled arrival. I’m pretty confident that since he’s taking off approximately 40 minutes late, he ain’t gonna arrive early.
Good thing you have that two-hour layover at ORD, babe.
By Amanda, who is among my coolest friends: she is a published photographer and really knows how to work teh bokeh 
Five things on my to-do list today: Not sure if I have five, really, for today…if I did, I’ve already failed at one as the first item would have been get to work by 8:30 so I can leave at a reasonable hour. But I wasn’t too much later than that, so yay me! OK, well, here, then:
Snacks I enjoy: might be easier to describe snacks I don’t enjoy. Um. I’ve been craving salt in the most cravy way; chips, chips, and more chips, please. Salt and vinegar, sour cream and onion, tortilla chips. Popcorn (!). I like chocolate, I like gummies, I like licorice (red, thanks). I like cookies, but not so much of late, although I could get behind some of those Voortman peanut ones I used to get. Pocky! Triscuits. Edamame. Like that.
Things I would do if I were a billionaire: oh good lord. Well, I’d stimulate the economy. Probably several economies. I’d definitely pay off some friends’ and family’s mortgages. Overpay dreadfully for some Vancouver land and then build myself a really cool “green” house. Travel around to see all my friends all over…preferably in Amanda’s carbon-neutral jet! Fund some worthy charities, the ones I already give to–I could give them enough to make a real difference, which would be pretty cool. Only have roots in my hair if I wanted them there. Fund a couple of restaurants for a couple of cool friends if they wanted them. Drink some fabulous wine and eat some fabulous meals with my fabulous friends. Let my Main Distractor be unemployed, if he cared to be.
Places I have lived: Vancouver, New York, Philadelphia, Montreal, Philadelphia, New Jersey (sshhh), Bowen Island, Vancouver.
People I want to know more about: Well…who is reading this blog? tell me more! Comment, yo!
The cats and I have an arrangement: they’re allowed to stay out at night, if they like, and if they knock at the back door (which opens into my bedroom) when they’re ready, I will let them in. This keeps me from staying up until everyone’s in, and keeps them from freezing their little patooties off when it’s cold out.
Usually this works pretty well. There are a few hiccups though. Sometimes they’ll knock and then decide they don’t want to come in after all. Anyone who knows me knows that I am not what is called a “morning person,” so it shows my kitty devotion, that I am willing to wake up in the middle of the night in service of my wee beasties. When they then say OH NEVER MIND LADY! I get a bit ticked off. When they do it twice, I get quite incensed. They know better, we’ve had this system in place for two years now.
Thursday morning, Ilya Kovalchuk did it twice. When he knocked a third time, I said SCREW YOU ILYA KOVALCHUK! Normally when this happens, he’ll come in when I get up and feed the cats their breakfast, no problem. Except he didn’t. And he hasn’t shown his shiny little face or squeaked at me since. SO he’s been out for three nights and missed three breakfasts, and I fear the worst.
Please send good thoughts for the return of the cutest little cat in the entire world, that I love more than almost anything?
****
Update: Today he squeaked at me and Choobie as we walked by the garage across the lane, and I prised open the door, which had been (too late–or too early, I suppose) securely wedged shut, and let my poor wee baby out. He seems none the worse for wear.
I don’t watch enough TV to judge their coverage…I caught some CNN and I caught some CBC, and aside from that I mostly read the wire stories and the New York Times online.
I may be too post-feminist for my own good, but how is it sexist to compare Hillary Clinton to Glenn Close’s bunny-boiler in Fatal Attraction? She’s a woman, being compared to a woman. The analogy, while unflattering, was to the character’s “never say die” attitude. Would it somehow have been better to compare her to an Energizer bunny, as in an animatronic, battery-powered plush toy? I simply don’t see sexism in that instance. If she were a he they could have compared to some male character in a horror movie that won’t die, and keeps coming back, and that wouldn’t have been sexist either.
I think whoever talked about her cleavage stepped over the line, unless it was an article about her fashion in Vogue or something…which I don’t think it was. On the other hand, if she had been inappropriately dressed at some point, then it would have been fair game, IMO.
What so many HRC supporters don’t seem to grasp is that she is not well liked by any number of people. And expressing one’s dislike of someone isn’t inherently sexist. Was Samantha Power calling her a monster sexist? No. That was off the record, too, but there’s no honour among journalists anymore.
Even people (like me) who weren’t particularly pro or con Hillary at the start of the primaries are permitted to look at the candidates, and decide that they prefer one to the others. Like, that’s the whole point of the primaries, isn’t it? and lo and behold, many many many of these people decided they liked Obama and what he represents better than they liked HRC and what she represents, and the whole train of baggage and bad times behind her, not to mention that attitude of anointment.
The fact that when we talk about a woman we use pronouns to indicate gender (we don’t like her) doesn’t actually make it sexist, Geraldine. And we don’t really like you much, either. Give us a female candidate with the charisma, oratory and personality of an Obama, and I expect people will flock to her, too.
But politics is all one big popularity contest, and your chosen candidate just isn’t one of the cool kids anymore.
This morning, reading my email, checking my boards, Ziggy was meowing all ovah. Loudly, repeatedly, staring at hidden places and closets. YOW! YOW! YOW!
No apparent reason, moved around the study, OK, STFU, Zig.
I got ready for work, walk teh Choob, unlock Enzo, and lo and behold by the backdoor is a dead wee mouse or vole. Not sure who’s responsible for it, Ziggy or Ilya, but pretty definitely one of mine. Don’t know who to praise for not bringing it to me in bed at 3 a.m. :p
Later, on the way to work, Enzo and I dodged a rather large rat’s corpse in the middle of the lane.
So, that’s two.
Remind me not to order Chinese for dinner…
I have two pieces of good news!
1. My Main Distractor is coming to visit in TWO WEEKS! Wheee!
2. I feared I would not fit my gorgeous red linen dress these days, but in fact I’m a bit slimmer than the last time I wore it, even! Double-wheee!
Aside from that…my Europe trip is in just over three weeks, hmm, time to email Rodrigo again; and if you hadn’t heard, Obama won the nomination.
I guess that’s about it. Isn’t it enough?
