More events

I dropped off the paperwork for the apartment. [Begin now an extended period of thumb-twiddling.]

And! my boss tells me that Rick is going to propose to Mindy tomorrow. Again.


Today's earrings: flies, amber

Bedtime reading: The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams

Filled with incident

I got a call this morning from the realtor dude in charge of that apartment I fell in love with. The person who got their ap in first has failed to secure financing. Am I still interested in buying the place? AND HOW! I replied. Oh, good, he said, and asked me to bring him a current set of documents. He'll pass it to the city, they'll vet my paperwork, and (hopefully) they'll approve me again. Then we go to his pet loan officer, and (hopefully) she'll approve me for a loan. And then (hopefully) I get to go live in the apartment I fell in love with.

About an hour after that, my boss presented me with my 5-Year Tchotchke: a nice desk clock discreetly emblazoned with the corporate logo. Now that I've gotten my tchotchke home, I find that there's no apparent way to adjust the time. Hm.

My boss also shared the sad news that Alan Spaulding died yesterday at the Chamberlain-Lewis wedding reception. Mr. Spaulding died of complications following a bone-marrow donation to his adopted son, for whom he was a suspiciously close match [insert tawdry speculation about Jackie Marler here]. Mr. Spaulding is survived by his sisters Alexandra and Amanda, his son Alan-Michael and his daughter Peyton, his adopted son Philip, his nephew Nick and his niece Vicky, five grandchilden, one great-grandchild, and (apparently) six of his former wives.

Today's earrings: amethysts

Bedtime reading: The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams

[edited to correct the Spaulding obit]

Dali

Google has brought me new knowlege tonight.

I knew that Dali had drawn a tarot deck, based on Rider/Waite. It's available for general sale. There's also a 54-card stripped version with French suit marks printed in the corners, suitable for playing bridge or poker. (For some reason, I have two copies of the latter. Why? Why?)

I've also seen a tarot deck someone cobbled together out of details of Dali paintings. It's very pretty, but of little use for telling fortunes or for playing games.

What I hadn't known was that in 1967 Dali drew a set of court cards and aces with French suit marks. It was published in a limited run, and for some reason no one's reprinted them. Too bad; I would have liked to have a copy.

The ace of diamonds looks like this:

Today's earrings: diamonds, aces

Bedtime reading: The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams

So you know.

Friday's post was my 666th.

Spooky.


Today's earrings: frogs, crows

Bedtime reading: The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams

In translation

The moon, like a flower
In heaven’s high bower,
With silent delight
Sits and smiles on the night.

- - William Blake

“Okay, let’s see… In mellow-speak, that would be… ‘Oh, wow, look at the moon.’”

- - Garry Trudeau


Today's earrings: monkeys, mice

Bedtime reading: Night of the Morningstar, Peter O'Donnell

You know what I did?

I forgot Project Runway was on. The Supernatural season premiere was that good.

I came to my senses just in time to see the elimination. I'm watching the insta-rerun now. Models highlights: cliques are forming; Kojii's daughter visits; Valerie gets bounced again and is again really gracious about it. It looks like she might have booked a job from that "industry party" thing as a consolation prize, too.


Today's earrings: rockets, chickens

Bedtime reading: Crimson Joy, Robert B. Parker

Whatever.

One of the dudes in the department down the hall has decided making friends with me is his new project. I didn't have any strong objection, so, whatever. Except now he's taken to asking me to get coffee.

The first time (last Friday), I was kinda stuck in the office, and so suggested Tuesday morning. He seized upon the suggestion. Tuesday morning comes, he doesn't show. Whatever.

Tuesday afternoon, he suggests Wednesday morning. OK. This morning, he doesn't show. Whatever.

This afternoon, he calls and asks if I want to get coffee right then, and I said no, I don't drink coffee after noon. My insomnia is bad enough without adding extra caffeine. Right before quitting time, he stopped by my desk and started talking about going to Jamba Juice tomorrow afternoon. Whatever. He also mentioned maybe coming along the next time I go for drinks with the guys, except that he's busy evenings Monday through Thursday. Which makes me wonder why he brought it up, because, what with one thing and another, we usually go drinking on Tues/Thurs.

Maybe I'm reading to much in, but it feels like he's expecting me to make this befriending thing happen. Like, now that I've been made aware that it's his project to make friends with me, it's my responsibility to make reminder calls to keep him on schedule. Because after all, I'm the girl, and that sort of thing is the girl's job - even though it's his project, not mine. Y'know?


Today's earrings: irons, brooms

Bedtime reading: Crimson Joy, Robert B. Parker