Sunday, March 04, 2007

Heather and Eli

I often wake up on Sunday mornings thinking about who I need to call that I haven't talked to in awhile. For my ripe age of 32, I have had very few girl friends. Under five, to be exact. This is Heather Davidoff. She lives in Granville, Ohio, where we grew up. I met her when I was 18, home on Christmas break from college. We spent the enitre break together. By day she worked our shitty jobs - me in layaway at Hills department store, Heather as a Server at Red Lobster. At night we hung out at her apartment, living on grilled cheese, tomato soup, and beer, making every kind of christmas cookie we could think of, and listening to Dead Shows over and over. Occasionally, her gamer roomate Brian Dumm would put in some Moody Blues and sing, so we would retreat to her bedroom, locking out the roomate and her loser boyfriend, Riedel, who was permanently pickled, and color with a 64 count box of crayolas with a sharpener. Once, a captain crunch fight (with crunch berries) started when we emerged from the bedroom, and we were cleaning it up for weeks.
I was dating this guy code named "Slinky" who was 6'7" and weighed 150 soaking wet, thus the nickname. He was the sweetest guy ever, and he got me midnight blue velvet Chuck Taylors for Christmas, but as much as I tried, I couldn't be atrracted to him. When I graduated from College, I went to visit him at Yellowstone.
Heather is married now, to one of the twin brothers who used to run into at high school parties. She has a wonderful life, lives in the country, and has a great marriage to Adam and an adorable son, Eli, who likes to eat apples from the tree in their back yard. I took this picture on a visit to Ohio last fall.

Saturday, March 03, 2007

Gumbo for Breakfast

Props to Justin Chalk for my breakfast, a spicy andoullie gumbo over Carolina Planatation rice that Sus' parents sent. Breakfast of champions, followed by a bath while watching season Two of Six Feet Under on my laptop next to the tub.

I need to escape the announcers of the Tour de France- Paul Sherwen and Phil Leggit, whose voices are constantly coming out of my TV. There is nothing relaxing about their constant commentating chatter, announcing every time one of the stick figures on wheels shifts gears, takes a drink of water, or passes gas. If I have to hear about how Lance looked death in the face and now he is the strongman, the climber blah blah blah one more time...ahhhh!
An aside -it would be much more entertaining to watch the stick figures if they hadn't loss their asses somewhere along the way.

Use it or lose it Latin quote for the day :
Catapultam habeo. Nisi pecuniam omnem mihi dabis, ad caput tuum saxum immane mittam
I have a catapult. Give me all your money, or I will fling an enormous rock at your head