Minutiae

Because that’s what you come here for, right?

I was blasting through my Bloglines last night, when I got to CrazyAuntPurl. She just finished hosting a Pride and Prejudice read-along. She mentioned an annotated version. I checked it out on Amazon. And then I hopped in the car and drove over to the bookstore, where I paid retail (because it sounded that good).

While standing in line to pay, the Gershwin CD came on overhead. I grinned. Two fallings-down in a bookstore (same chain) on consecutive Tuesday nights.

From there I went to Target, since the Hallmark stores were long since closed. The new guy has a birthday coming up soon. I was hoping to find a birthday card that was squeaky-clean *and* funny *and* had fish on it *or* a LeCreuset pot with little curlicues of tastiness wafting up out of it. [Or, maybe, a nice assortment of petri dishes.]

I am part of an under-served demographic: those who are dating and are not quite ready for Medicare. Throw in a commitment to behave with decorum and honor, and that eliminates 99.9% of the cards intended for guys. No Viagra jokes, no flatulence jokes, no drinking jokes, you get the idea. There was one for a 60th birthday that might have worked, about what would happen if you had a whole string of 60 year old guys lie down end to end. The punchline being something like very few of them would be able to get up again, unassisted. But since I’ve had my own issues with mobility, and I have no idea if he does, it was only marginally funny. And this will be something other than his 60th birthday. So that was two strikes.

I am one-third to one-half the way up the back of Faith’s sweater. Lots of good knitting time yesterday.

Today I am officially no longer a commuter-by-train. No more hoping to score the use of somebody else’s monthly parking on the days I drive into Dallas. I might need to celebrate by sneaking in an extra evening at the temple this week.

Time to pack my lunch and see if I can remember where I put the Happy Birthday stamps.