Love Letter To My Moisturizer

Dear Avalon Organics Vitamin C Oil-Free Moisturizer,

Thank you for hydrating my skin!  You are so light and smooth, and you make my face feel good.  I love the way that you smell like oranges.  Or lemons.  I’m not very discerning at 6.50am.  Either way, you smell delicious, kind of like you would taste really good.  But you don’t taste good.  (Don’t judge me. I was curious.) 

That’s okay, because whatever the ingredients are that make you so perfect are likely toxic and would probably kill me if I ate a whole jar of you.  One time, I ate a whole tin of Sucrets because they tasted like candy and my mom had to call Poison Control!  Did you make yourself taste bad on purpose to keep me safe?  That was so thoughtful of you!  

Thank you, Avalon Organics Vitamin C Oil-Free Moisturizer, for having a rancid flavor and saving me an embarrassing phone call to Poison Control, and possibly a trip to the emergency room to have my stomach pumped.      

Thank you also for your continued efforts to make my skin smooth and silky.  Keep up the good work!  I will see you tonight after I wash my face.  I can't wait!

Your friend,
Molly

Holy Crap

I just plucked the shit out of my eyebrows, you guys.  But for some weird reason I decided to only do the middle.  So now I look like I’ve had a horrible accident with lighter fluid, or hydrochloric acid, or some other equally destructive substance that’s burned away an inch-wide strip directly above my nose and left a furry furry caterpillar to stand guard on either side. 

I could fix this.  I should fix this.  But I don’t think I’m going to.  Even though I look like some sort of really surprised Brooke Shields-Groucho Marx hybrid. 

Shut up.  I do what I want.   

Dear Fortune Cookie...We Are Not Friends

Dear Fortune Cookie,

Well I hope you’re happy.  Not only were you crushed into little tiny pieces before I unwrapped you, you didn’t even have a fortune inside.  I was so disappointed. 

When I first poured your little broken bits into my hand looking for that coveted slip of paper dictating how I would live my life for the next ten minutes before forgetting about you completely, I was filled with the kind of breathless anticipation one gets right before opening a present on Christmas morning.

I was initially confused when I couldn’t find it, and I immediately went into Justification Mode.  “Maybe I just missed it.  This cookie is a mess and I ripped into the wrapper with extra enthusiasm.  Maybe it just fell on the floor.” 

Sifting through your broken pieces again, the justification turned to denial: “Any minute now.  I’ll find it.  It’s here somewhere, I know it."  I grew more and more anxious as I frantically searched under my napkin, in the folds of my pajama pants and on the floor.  Where was the reward for finishing my meal?  What was I going to do without that little piece of paper chirping out sometimes confused or misspelled but always cheerful statements advising me to “Depart not from the path which fate has you assigned”, or “Always remember to wear your best pants when fighting for freedom”, or “Please visit us at www.wontonfood.com”?

As I lie here on my bed in a state of apathy and despair, slowly and painfully digesting the entire pint of sweet and sour chicken that I wolfed down in a state of giddy anticipation while blissfully unaware that my dinner was about to turn into a bigger disappointment than "Aladdin 2: The Return of Jafar", all I have to say, Fortune Cookie, is that I’m very disappointed.  This is not the level of service I have come to expect from you.  Please take care that this does not happen again.  Thank you for your attention to this matter. 

Sincerely,
Molly

Extreme Boredom Prevails

Holy christmas tree you guys, I am so bored.  I'm sitting on my bed waiting for inspiration to strike.  It's not happening.  Help!  Usually when I'm bored I read, but I just can't get into Reflections on the Dawn of Consciousness right now. 

I have a weird cramp in my thumb.  I've never had a thumb cramp before.  Oh wait, it's gone now. 

I think I ate too much for dinner.  I always get really excited whenever mom makes mashed potatoes, and I wind up going a little crazy.  I turn into a mashed potato monster and I think that if I was the last person left on earth and the only other person besides me was a chef who only knew how to make mashed potatoes, I would be fine with that.  Like, forever.  

Fail

Today I wanted to write a blog post, but my brain was like: "No!"  So instead I'm writing a list of movies who's endings traumatized me so much the first time I saw them that I can never watch them again.

Armageddon 
The only part of this movie that I can clearly remember is that scene at the end where Bruce Willis changes places with Liv Tyler's boyfriend at the last second, and is all "Take care of my daughter" or something like that, and then basically just sits down on the asteroid and waits to run out of oxygen, or for the asteroid to explode, whatever comes first.  I did not see that coming. 

This might be traumatizing to me because one of my biggest fears is dying alone in outer space.  I'm not sure why this scares me so much.  I'm pretty sure I will never be in outer space.  Unless NASA suddenly starts accepting extremely under-qualified musicians with vague aspirations towards the library sciences field into their astronaut program.  

The Goonies
I don't even remember why this movie scared me.  I just know that it was bad.  And I never want to see it again.  Call me un-American, call me a traitor to my generation, just don't call me into the room if this movie is on tv.  

Titanic 
Even though I was fully aware of how this one would end, it still scared the crap out of me.  Again, (I'm sensing a theme here), one of my biggest fears is being in extremely deep water with no idea as to what could possibly be lurking under me.  Just the thought that any minute I could look over and see a huge whale or maybe a shark is enough to keep me out of the deep end of the pool.  And don't even get me started on those aquariums that have the big underground windows where you can see into the tanks.  I live in mortal terror of the sperm whale display at the Natural History Museum.  


Deep Impact
Space disaster, end of the world, huge tidal wave.  Enough said.  


E.T.
Don't laugh, you guys.  This movie made me so sad that I cried hysterically for two hours after it was over, and had to have my mom sleep in my bed with me that night.  Never again.  


So now you know what a wuss I am, all thanks to my lazy brain who couldn't come up with a good idea for a post. 

Frog blog- the final chapter

WeIl, I had a feeling that Pork wouldn't last too long after Beans died.  I was right.  At least they are together again...I guess I just wasn't meant to keep aquatic pets alive.  I feel so guilty.  If you ever see me heading for the fish store again, you had better scream bloody murder until I turn around. 

Little kid food

My mom is making hot dogs for dinner and I'm weirdly excited about it.  I love hot dogs.  Hot dogs hot dogs hot dogs.  Eating a hot dog always makes me feel like a little kid.  So do these things: 

Other Food That Makes Me Feel Like A Child
spam
cinnamon toast
Gortons Fisherman popcorn shrimp
chicken nuggets shaped like other things (dinosaurs, stars, etc.)
frozen vegetables
celery and peanut butter
Kid Cuisine tv dinners
the kind of orange juice that comes frozen in a can and you have to put it in the pitcher and pour cold water over it and then chop it up with a wooden spoon

 

I would time travel for a bagel

Move over, James Bond

I used to work for a rich lady.  I was her personal assistant, and I worked at her house doing whatever she needed me to do.  My brother will swear up and down that this was not a real job, because my days basically consisted of long hours sitting on the sofa reading whatever book I was currently in the middle of, punctuated by brief moments of dog walking, phone answering, and the occasional foray into the kitchen to whip up some raspberry vinaigrette dressing or a BLT or whatever my employer was craving at the moment.  Needless to say, it was a pretty sweet gig.  It was also the scene of the most physically awesome thing I have ever done.  And it happened on my first day of work.  Unfortunately it was not witnessed by my boss who was out sunning herself by the pool at the time, but only by a random contractor and his helper.  Intrigued?  Read on...

* Let me preface this by saying that the first job I ever had was at a china shop, and the only rule I remember is that when the telephone rang, we were to answer it in two rings or less.  Three rings is unprofessional.  I don't know who arbitrarily decided that, but for whatever reason it has stuck with me for eight years and to this day I still feel vaguely guilty when I can't get to a phone by that crucial third ring.  This will all make sense in a moment.  

So it's my first day of work, right?  Naturally I was a little nervous and eager to please, and I definitely didn't want to mess anything up.  It was a pretty slow day; the only thing on the schedule was these guys that were supposed to come to the house and hang up a chandelier in the kitchen. 

So okay.  The guys get to the house.  I let them in the front door and show them the kitchen and where she wants the chandelier, and they move the kitchen table out of the way, put down a drop cloth so they don't wreck the hard-wood floor, and start working to get this thing up.  (It's truly hideous by the way- very dark wrought iron in the shape of bats with their wings outstretched, all surrounding these frosted glass globes that have dark red paint dripping down the sides that looks like blood.)

During the installation of what I like to call the Halloween Special (clearly ordered from Dr. Frankenstein's Discount Dungeon and Torture Chamber Supply), I decided I had to pee.  So I went.  I was all finished and washing my hands when I heard the faint sound of the telephone ringing.  In the back of my mind, I heard the voice of my old boss at the china shop and I thought: three rings is unprofessional.  The bathroom is at the end of a long hallway, which is on the other side of the kitchen from the closest telephone.  And I'm already down by one ring.  I only have one left.  I realize that if I'm going to make it before the third one, I'm going to have to do some serious hauling.  

So I set off down the hallway like Flo Jo and reached the kitchen just as the sounds of the second ring were dying away.  I had some serious momentum going, but as I headed for the table where the phone was, I hit the drop cloth that the contractors put down.  Fleecy, floor-protecting drop cloth + shiny wood floor = Slippery.  My feet flew out from under me and I landed hard on my butt, but here's the awesome part.  My momentum in addition to the slippery floor gave me some serious glide, and as I shot past the table I managed to grab the phone, push the Talk button, and answer calmly and in a professional manner before the third ring as I continued to slide across the floor at breakneck speed and crash into the hutch cabinet at the other end of the room.

The chandelier guys (who at this point thought I was REALLY COOL) were like "Oh my Gosh!  Are you okay??" and I was like "Of course I'm okay.  I'm a professional.  I'm only doing my job."  I was actually in some serious pain, but I wasn't about to let them know that.  I would rather them see me as the super dedicated employee who would throw herself (literally) into the face of danger with a casual disregard for my own personal safety in the interest of my work.  And anyway, the awesomeness of what I had just done went a long way in relieving the pain.  Being a personal assistant can provide a lot more opportunities for heroics than most people think.  Integrity incarnate- that's me.   

Mexican food makes me sleepy

I just got back from dinner out at a Mexican restaurant, and I'm so tired!  I can feel the delicious chicken tacos that I ate sitting in a warm, happy ball in my stomach, and it would be perfect napping conditions if it weren't 9pm.  I might go to bed early.  Seriously, I can barely hold my head up.  I haven't posted in a while though, so I'm going to be noble and fight through the exhaustion to update you all on what's been happening for the past few days.  Because I can tell that you are all just dying to know.  

So, basically nothing of consequence happened last week, hence the lack of posts.  Actually, I take that back.  Wednesday night I went to see the NY Phil at Avery Fisher.  They were performing Beethoven's Missa Solemnis with the NY Choral Artists (whoever they are).  It was excellent.  I absolutely love that piece, even though I wanted to kill myself every day that I was learning it in college because it was so hard and I had too many other things to worry about.  But I digress.  Anyway, I wound up going by myself and it was really fun.  I've never taken myself out to a concert before.  The only bummer was that I didn't have anyone to talk about it with afterward.  Well, that's not entirely true.  I did trade emails about it with my friend who works in arts management, and it turns out that she used to work for the conductor when he was just starting up, she represented the soprano when she was starting her career overseas (I believe the phrase that she used was "she was one of my kids that I was trying to sell over in Europe" haha) and she somehow knows the tenor through her former boss because they are friends or something.  Anyway, I yakked about it with her for a while, which was fun because she is a fabulous musician and she really knows her stuff.  

From a glitzy night out in town to doing my corporate duty- Friday night (which I count as the start of the weekend) was my company's annual outing to see a Trenton Thunder game.  They are the minor league team for the Yankees.  It was about as fun as I expected it to be, which was not very.  I mean, it was nice to see everyone outside of the office and with their families and stuff, but baseball is not my thing, and I'm not really friends with a lot of my co-workers.  They are very nice, pleasant people, I just don't want to have an extended conversation with them in a forced social setting.  I did have one friend that I really enjoy who came, and she brought her family and they are really fun, but other than that it was pretty boring.  But I felt like it was important to go, because it was a nice thing that the partners did for everyone at the office. 

Saturday I went up to spend the weekend with Alison and the rest of the Heathers, and that night we went to the fair in Yorktown.  It was really fun, and the boys had a blast.  They were so cute.  They were really dragging by the end of the night though, and so was I!  I don't know why I was so tired, all I did was walk around, but for some reason I was exhausted by the time we got home.  I crashed hard at bedtime, and didn't wake up the next morning until after 8:30.  That's unusual for me when I'm at their house.  Even though I've kind of gone past the point when I'm treated like a guest and am now one of the fam, I still try to be courteous and I feel like when I'm in someone else's home I shouldn't sleep in until all hours and then lie around the house in my pajamas until tea time.  I try to get up not too much later than the boys, but Sunday morning I was the last one out of bed.  I even missed early morning tea!  That's not too much of a bummer though because the last time I had early morning tea at their house it was 7:30 on Christmas morning, and I pounded down a HUGE cup of tea in about five minutes flat and then immediately had to run downstairs and throw it all back up because the combination of how excited I was in addition to how fast I drank the tea made me sick.  Luckily the boys were absorbed in presents, and Alison and Randall were absorbed in watching them open presents, so no one noticed my brief moment of disgusting grossness.  Which is good because it was really embarrassing.  I felt like a little kid who ate her Halloween candy too fast.  I mean, seriously.  I'm an adult and I threw up on Christmas morning because I was too excited. 

Okay this post has soured, and taken a turn that I wasn't expecting.  I wasn't planning on writing about puking on Christmas.  How did that happen?  That was a seriously polluted stream of consciousness.  So anyway, now you know what I've been up to for the past few days.  Not a bad week/weekend if I do say so myself.  Now I'm going to go plan my outfit for tomorrow, because it's going to be Fancy Dress-Up Day at work.  See you all on the flip side. 

Frog Blog- Bye bye, Beans

It is my sad duty to inform you that when I can home from work this afternoon, I found Beans upside-down at the bottom of the tank looking very dead.  My suspicions were confirmed when I tapped the glass and there was no response, and then really confirmed when I fished him out with the net and dropped him in the toilet and he still didn't move.  Man down.  He's been flushed, and words of an appropriate solemn nature were said.  Pork is now A Frog On His Own.  Poor little guy.   

You may call me Master (in about 3 years)

I think I'm going back to school.  I've sat on my butt for three years since graduation (save for a brief, failed attempt at city living) waiting for something to fall into my lap and make me change my life, and it just recently occurred to me that if I want change, I have to make it.  So I'm going to University.  Again.  I'm applying to the online program at Drexel University to get my masters in Library Science, with a concentration in archival studies so that I can be one of those cool people working in the dungeon of some museum rebuilding the Library of Alexandria or something.

I decided to do this for a number of reasons- the first being that I've become too comfortable in the job I have now, and other than the fact that I'm dying to live on my own, I have no real motivation to move forward with my life.  This is going to screw up my master plan of buying my own place soon because the money I've been saving for that reason will now be going towards tuition instead.  I'm hoping though that the payoff will be worth it, because I think this is going to open up my life a lot.  Once I've got my degree and I get a job and move to wherever that job is, I will have so many chances to meet new people (and by people I mean boys).  I have no desire for a relationship right now, but by the time I do, I would like to be living in a place where a guy's idea of a good time is not going to someones farm, getting drunk in a field and then driving home.  I need a nerdy boy who likes what I like, although I'm not sure how I'm going to find him.  (Maybe I could try out some nerdy pick-up lines; "Check me out at your local library!") 

I'm telling everyone because if I make it public, I can't back out.  I'm doing this and I'm doing it for real.  I'm applying for the Spring semester of 2011, because the deadline for Fall 2010 is August 2nd and I don't have enough time to get my stuff together before then.  So...yay!  I'm going to be a Master at something!  Assuming I get accepted into the program, that is.  I don't want to count my chickens before they hatch.  

Mercurial temperament

      "I have a mercurial temperament," Anastasia said to her mother.
      "You also have a terribly dirty shirt on," her mother said.  "Don't you have any clean clothes?"
      "Yes, but I hate all my clean shirts.  This is my favorite shirt.  I'll save the clean ones for school.  This is okay for Saturday."
- Anastasia Krupnik, by Lois Lowry

So I've discovered the new design templates (thank you Sammi) and decided to revamp my blog (again).  My only problem is that there are too many fun ones to choose from.  I'm not going to pick just one and stick to it, I'm going to change whenever I feel like it.  It will depend on my mood, which, having a mercurial temperament as I do, changes a lot.  So don't be surprised if you visit my blog and it looks completely different than the time before.  It's still the same old blog, just wearing a different outfit.  It has a mercurial temperament.  Like me.  

      "Don't you agree that I have a mercurial temperament?"
      "Tell me what it means," said her mother.
      "It means someone who changes her mind a lot."
      "What have you changed your mind about?"
       Anastasia hoisted herself up on the countertop and sat with her legs dangling.
      "Well, just for an example, do you remember that at Thanksgiving I told you I hated pumpkin pie?"
      "Mmmmm."
      "Did you notice at Christmas I ate a whole lot of pumpkin pie?"
      "Yes," said her mother thoughtfully.  "As a matter of fact, I did notice that.  Christmas night, very late, I sneaked into the kitchen to get something to eat, and what I wanted was a piece of pumpkin pie.  And it was all gone.  You ate all the whipped cream, too."
      "Yeah.  Mercurial temperament." 

Frog blog

 These are my frogs before I moved them to a more spacious aquarium.  Cute little buggers, aren't they?


Have I mentioned lately that I have two frogs?  Well, I do.  For all those out there who have been 
living under a rock since Christmas, they are African Dwarf frogs, their names are Pork and Beans, and recently I moved them from their tiny plastic cube into a nice tank that has plants and pretty gravel.  The latest addition to the tank was a water filter, and I'm afraid that it might have had a really negative effect on the them.  Ever since I put it in the tank, all they do is hide.  They have not been eating, they have changed to a really light color and because of the lack of food, they have shrunk (weird).  I know what you're thinking- just turn the filter off!  I had the same thought about four days ago, so I did.  They have eaten a couple of times since then, but they haven't changed back to their normal color and are still really lethargic.  I'm afraid I've done irreparable damage.  I was really hoping that I could keep these guys alive.  Some of you know about my abysmal track record with fish (4-7 has seen many toilet funerals) and I thought I was doing the right thing by moving the frogs to a better environment but I might have killed them.  I'm not really that attached to them (they're frogs; they are not furry or snuggly and they don't exactly love you back) but I feel responsible for their lives and I really don't want them to die.  They have no control over what happens to them.  It's all me.  And I'm really trying to not screw it up. 

I've been waiting for you, Bejeweled 2.

We meet again, at last.  The circle is now complete.  When I left you, I was but a learner; now I am the master.  

Cue light sabers and death-battle.  Following the completion of the final 11 minutes in the trial version, Bejeweled 2 will shut down and sacrifice itself for the greater goal of ultimately convincing me to purchase the full game, which will seduce me into playing it every time I turn on my computer.  The Force can have a strong influence on the weak-minded.

Ninja Turtles

Blogblogblog Re-branded!

I've changed the title of my blog.  I felt that the old one was getting a bit stagnant, and this one is more in tune with my personality.  I'm a nerd.  I love Star Trek and fantasy novels.  I read history books and collect encyclopedias.  Last night I spent almost two hours watching the first couple of episodes of A History Of Britain on youtube.  I wonder about the proper way to end parenthetical expressions with emoticons.  If I have a choice between MTV and the National Geographic Channel, I'll take Nat Geo every time.  I call the National Geographic channel Nat Geo.  I subscribe to six different podcasts from the BBC, and five from NPR (and also the Freakonomics podcast.  Love it.).  I have a tattoo, which is totally badass, but it's an open book.  There is a Benjamin Franklin action figure on my desk at work.  I've never heard a single song by Lady Gaga and wouldn't know her if she walked up and slapped me in the face, but if you have an obscure recording of Purcell or Byrd, I'm your girl. I am absolutely devoted to the show Lost, and now that it's over I'm considering getting into Battlestar Galactica.  When I was twelve I decided I wanted to redecorate my room with a Winnie-The-Pooh theme, so I did and I left it that way until I graduated from college.  Sometimes when I have nothing to do, I'll go to Staples and stand in the pens and pencils aisle just looking until I find the perfect new pen.  I love sorting and organizing, and I have mild OCD which causes me to freak out about weird things like what time I eat my snack at work, and the volume level of the radio in my car.  I shelve my books in a way that only makes sense to me.  Example- my travel guide to Australia is right next to my autobiography of Renee Fleming, because I have an Australian friend who used to work for her.  The other day at work, it was fancy dress-up day because we had visitors and my boss told me that I looked very nice, but next time I should leave the big history book at home because it makes me look like a nerd and I'll never pick up any guys in the clubs that way.  I told him that I didn't see that as a big problem because I've never set foot in a club in my life, and don't ever plan to.  

In short, I am a card-carrying, flag-waving nerd.  You will not woo me by taking me out to a late dinner, and then to a club until all hours.  I will just start making bored noises and looking at the door every five minutes.  However, if you take me home and put on the Star Wars soundtrack and then re-enact the corresponding scenes with me, our souls will align and I might let you get to like second base or something. 

Nothing, really. Just some stuff.

I just ate a piece of pineapple chess pie. It was delicious. It was also ten days old. I hollered down the stairs to my mom to see if it was safe to eat, but she was too busy watching Dancing With The Stars. So I took my life in my own hands and decided to go for it. What is the shelf-life of pie? I don't really know. It was in the fridge, so it's okay I guess. Right? I suppose we'll know for sure soon. I could be dead in a few hours. These may be the last words I ever write. I wonder what it would be like to go to my own funeral. I've kind of secretly always wanted to. It makes me think of two things. The first thing is that part in Tom Sawyer when everyone thinks that Tom and Huck are dead, and then they come to their own funeral. The other thing that it makes me think of is The Golden Girls. I forget what episode, but at one point Blanche is talking about how when she was sixteen her parents made her mad so she wanted to teach them a lesson. She faked her own death, and then watched her funeral. She was so happy because so many people came out to see her and were saying all kinds of good things about her and how much they loved her. Then she popped out and said "Surprise, it's me! I'm not really dead!" and her dad beat the tar out of her. I guess it's kind of an ego thing to want to hear what people have to say about you. But I would be totally curious as to who would come to mine. I want it to be really fun. Okay I'm getting a little morbid now.

Here's something fun- I got two new Pears' Cyclopaedias in the mail the other day. Well, not new, one is from 1929 and the other is 1932, but they are new to me. They are my current obsession. I'm not even going to try and explain what they are here, you can google it. It's so cool. The best part is that it's a British publication, so all the most interesting parts are things like Some Lengthy Tunnels, and how to write letters to persons of royalty, and a chart of silver and china marks so you can tell who made yours. It's really interesting to see how things change over time, too. For instance: I looked up Gandhi in the Prominent People section of my 2010 edition. There are almost two solid inches of text about him (itty-bitty printing). Then just for kicks I looked him up in my 1946 War Economy edition, and my 1934 edition (this would be when Britain was not a big fan of Gandhi) and all it said about him was "Prominent Hindu leader". My, how things have changed. The fun part about collecting Pears' is that every one is a little bit different. I think I'm hooked.

My Pears' Cyclopaedia Collection. Please notice that the bookend is a giant Pear.

Now I'm watching my frogs. One is swimming around like crazy (I think he's about to shed his skin, which is gross because after they do that, they eat it) and the other one is hiding under the food plate. Oh great. Now the crazy one is stuck to the glass above the water line. Hold on. I have to go save his life. Okay, I'm back. It's a good thing I was looking. Stupid frog. That's not the first time he's done that. I guess I can't fault him for being dumb, though. He's very small and doesn't have a lot of room in his tiny head for brains. Poor little guy.


*Disclaimer- I don't know why the font at the end came out in weird sizes. That was not intentional, I can't figure out how to fix it, and it's wreaking havoc with my OCD.

Mirror mirror on the wall, I am my mother after all

I've been thinking a lot lately about the imaginary children that I will have someday. Okay that already came out wrong. I don't mean that someday I will have imaginary children. They will be real. They are only imaginary right now. Anyway, I was thinking about all the things that my mother did that and I swore I would never do, and I realized that I'm actually going to do all of them. My kids will have a bedtime and a curfew. They will not watch tv and play on the computer all day. Cell phones are absolutely out of the question until they reach high school (we'll see if that one is still practical by the time these kids actually show up, but for now that's the way it's going to be) and if they don't like what I've fixed for dinner, tough. I'm not cooking five different meals every night to satisfy my family of picky eaters.

I used to think that my mom did these things to torture me. Now I know that they were actually for my own benefit. I'm not addicted to the tube, I can entertain myself with a book, and I know the value of a good night's sleep. The only thing that I am sure I will do differently than my mom is that I will not give my kids a name and then call them something else entirely for the rest of their lives. Although they might wish that I would because my current top three favorite names are Priscilla, Prudence and Frances (I love the nickname Francie). But I think I'm getting a little ahead of myself. This is not happening anytime soon. Unless the phrases "born in a manger" or "immaculate conception" come into play somehow. So don't worry, future children. I'm not ready to start torturing you. Yet.

Procrastination

My room
is a cloud of doom
full of dread
hanging over my head
because I don't want to clean it.