That’s all I’ll say about it, but to not mention it at all would be wrong and fake and I just couldn’t blather on about Twitter and Facebook tonight (now you know what to look forward to tomorrow) and not acknowledge what happened.

Then I heard that a girl I work with got hit by a car in front of our building last night and is in the hospital with serious injuries. I don’t know her very well, but she is sweet and nice and I really hope she’ll be ok.

And hey, then the stock market decided to completely fall apart. It was the perfect cap on a crappy day.

Let’s hope tomorrow is better. It kind of has to be.

Seamus and I watched them fly by (Seamus always likes to give geese the narrow eye – I think he disapproves of how noisy they can be) and then continued on with our walk. It was a nice little interlude. So I guess sometimes good things can happen early in the morning, if I’m not too groggy to notice.

Then on the radio driving home tonight they were talking about the movie coming out and how it is the fanatical pre-teen girls that could lead the movie to the top of the box office. The guy called it High School Ventricle. What. ever. I know lots of people my age who love those books. I bet my boss and I won’t be the only 37 year olds in the theater. And I suspect that Quantum of Solace will drop off from this past weekend (we saw it. It was ok. Better than some Bond movies, but not nearly as good as Casino Royale was) so it is conceivable that Twilight could do very well. They’ve got my money already, so they are off to a good start, right?

I just don’t have a quiet and restful mind. I’m an automatic multi-tasker. Even when I watch TV, I’m usually doing something else at the same time – reading a book, working on the computer, knitting, whatever. If there is reading material around when I’m not doing anything, or even if I’m doing something like eating, I’m almost compelled to pick it up and read it. This may be a family trait – I’ve noticed my brother doing the same thing from time to time, and my mom is practically physically incapable of sitting still. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, although I do think my inability to shut off my brain contributes to my insomnia.

But yesterday I got a glimpse of what it could be like. This crazy rain storm came up out of nowhere. One minute there were blue skies and puffy clouds and my neighbors were out walking their dogs, and then suddenly it was too dark for me to even see my book (Michael Chabon’s Gentlemen of the Road, by the way, which I enjoyed, but did not find completely satisfying. I felt like I had just gotten to know the characters and then the book was over. I wanted more.) and rain was battering the house. The window was open, and I found myself watching the patterns of the rain whipping sideways outside, the leaves swirling through the parking lot, and the trees down the road bending in the fierce wind. I wasn’t thinking about anything else, not even “Oh, I should close the window.” I just sat there, observing and being for a couple of minutes. It was nice. Relaxing. Who knows if I’ll ever do it again, but it was interesting enough that I might actually try.

Part of the reason is that I used to feel ill after cleaning the bathrooms, so I did some research and then switched from super chemical cleaners to hippy dippy natural cleaners. But I still felt lousy after cleaning, and then I read an article that said it is the aerosol nature of the cleaners that can cause headaches and make you feel awful. So then I switched to an all natural cleaner that I mix with water and scrub on with a brush or sponge, no spraying allowed. That did help me feel better physically, but it did not magically make me want to start cleaning the bathrooms. They are places where we use soap and water. Shouldn’t they be self cleaning?

Our hall bath gets incredibly dusty for some reason, and then the dust mixes with moisture and forms this annoying film over everything. I don’t use the hall bath much, so I forget about the dust weirdness until I go in there to clean. It’s a special little surprise for me every time! On top of that, the previous owners of this house were absolutely obsessed with child safety. They had put down some sort of anti-skid stuff on the floor of the tub that didn’t come off properly. You can’t really see it until it starts attracting dirt and changes colors. And it is a pain to get off too.

The other bathrooms don't get as dusty, although they each have their own special little irritations. The mirror in the half bath is flimsy and the pedestal sink never really seems clean to me. I suspect that the soap dish in the shower in the master bath is not the original, as it is kind of awkwardly caulked on to the wall, and the grout under it gets grotty. I always wonder what could have happened to the original.

Oh well, at least I don't have to clean them again for a while. Or wait, I think my point at the beginning of this post was that I should really clean more frequently so it wouldn't be such an ordeal...perhaps I'll try to change my ways.

After the mall I stopped by Linens and Things, which is going out of business. I had high hopes of scoring some bargain towels and sheets, but the place had been totally picked over. All they had left were the ugly colors, and on top of that, they were only discounting sheets and towels by 20%. I was looking to get a deal on high thread count sheets, but they were still ridiculously expensive. I bought some “irregular” high thread counts sheets at the outlet mall one time and got addicted to how soft they are. But damn, they aren’t cheap. Anyway, Linens and Things was a huge disappointment to me. I can (and will) do better at Target.

Still, I’m delighted with my new boots, and I’ve purchased the first Christmas present of the season. Not bad for a rainy Friday night.

This morning I was predictably tired and cranky. And it was raining, which always makes the drive in to work extra special. As I was getting ready for work, Seamus jumped up on the bed and curled up in a little ball, looking as sweet as can be. I was preoccupied trying to find my red v-neck sweater (which is still mysteriously missing by the way) and but he eventually caught my eye. And I stopped, went over to the bed, crawled under the covers, and had a nice long cuddle with him. We just relaxed together, listening to the rain pounding on the roof. It was an excellent and extremely reviving way to spend 10 minutes or so. And lo and behold, the drive in wasn’t all that bad, and work was ok and the stock market even rallied (although I wouldn’t count on that one to last if I were you.) Behold the power of a good snuggle with a lovable furry friend.

There is this woman who first came to class last week, and who was there again tonight. Plus she was in the weights class I take on Mondays. She’s tiny and clearly very fit, without an ounce of fat and on top of that, she’s very nicely toned. Here’s the thing that’s killing me…I’m stronger than she is. I’m way better at the abs stuff, and I’m (slightly) better at the kick boxing, and I used heavier weights than she did in class on Monday. Why am I not a skinny, toned, compact person? I work out a lot. And while my eating is not perfect, it’s not terrible either.

I’m pleased about having evidence that I am fit. I’ve made so much progress since I first started working out, and that’s important. But damn it, I want to be skinny too. My doctor says my diabetes will always make it harder for me to lose weight, and I know it is harder for women to lose weight in general, but seriously, there’s got to be something that I can do. I guess for now, I'll refocus on eating better and then work out harder. I'm not explaining it well, but I'm feeling both encouraged and discouraged.

Now on to more important things, like TV. On the Biggest Loser, oh how I LOATHE the blue team. That Vicky is an evil bitch, her husband is a jerk and Heba, who I used to think was kind of sweet, is a whiny, smug pain in the ass. Edited to add: Ha! In your face Vicky!

On True Blood, John thinks the killer might be Rene. I don’t want it to be him! I love his Cajun accent and the silly advice he’s always handing out to people. Of course I can’t figure out which character I do want it to be. I pretty much adore all of the misfits and weirdos on that show. Well, except that Amy, who I do not like and actually hope gets what’s coming to her in some sort of gruesome fashion. Although I do think the actress who is playing her is doing a wonderful job.

Moving on, here are some movies I’m very much looking forward to: Quantum of Solace, although it will be weird not to go see it with my brother, because we always go see the Bond movies together. Also (of course) Twilight. I got my boss hooked on the books, and now have grand plans to fight our way through hordes of teeny boppers to go see it. We’re pretty confident we can take them if it comes down to a battle for good seats.

Ok, I’ve been trying to find a way to wrap this up, but I’m tired. And yet still wired due to the caffeine. Awesome. I think I will just say goodnight.

My dad’s eyebrows, on the other hand, are just as much of a reflection of who he is – unruly, sometimes faintly hostile, at times even somewhat jovial. They bristle and wiggle and pop off his face with a life of their own.

My own eyebrows lie somewhere in the middle, neither as nicely groomed as my mom’s nor as wild as my dad’s. I’ve always had to shape them and thin them out a bit, but in general I’d say my eyebrows are fairly well behaved. And yet, I’ve always lived with the fear that one day I’d wake up to find that they’d somehow gone rogue and gotten bushy on me. That hasn’t happened so far, but I swear they are considering a coup against my eyelids. Rather than getting puffier, they are expanding their territory down my eyes. I’m finding more and more stray hairs on my actual eyelids. This is not cool. But do not fear for my eyelids! I will be vigilant. I have tweezers – girly pink Tweezerman tweezers – and I’m not afraid to use them.

I always enjoy Neil Gaiman’s work, and this book was no exception. It’s the story of a toddler who escapes the massacre of the rest of his family by a shadowy evil figure named Jack. The boy wanders in to the cemetery up the road from his house and is given sanctuary by the ghosts who live there. Two of the ghosts adopt him and name him Nobody Owens, Bod for short. He’s given the Freedom of the Graveyard, which allows him to communicate with all of the ghosts, and keeps him safe from the outside world. They make him a home in a tomb, and rely on the mysterious Silas to bring in food for Bod to eat.

Bod gets an education from a variety of otherworldly sources, encounters a shape shifter, has a run-in with goblins, meets a dead witch, and even manages to attend a real school for a while. Over the years he picks up a number of skills, learns a lot about history, and even finds his way into a mysterious prehistoric tomb guarded by an entity known only as the Sleer. All of this prepares Bod for his inevitable confrontation with Jack once he returns.

As always with Neil Gaiman, it’s not just that the story is interesting and well written. It’s all the little details that he includes, like the fun names the ghosts have and the inscriptions on the headstones. Thomes Pennyworth (here he lyes in the certainty of the moft glorious refurrection) teaches Bod Slipping and Fading, and Miss Letitia Borrows, Spinster of the Parrish (Who Did No Harm to No Man all the Dais of Her Life, Reader, Can You Say Lykewise?) teaches him Grammar and Composition, to name just a few. Of course, one of my favorite parts of visiting Westminster Abbey was reading the lengthy, florid and over-the-top inscriptions on the tombs there, so I guess I’m predisposed to like that sort of thing in the story.

The American edition of the book has lively illustrations by Dave McKean, which I thought added to the charm of the story. I highly recommend this book! I’m not exactly sure which age group this book is meant for, and the beginning where the family is murdered might be a bit too much for a young child, although the way it is written leaves your imagination to fill in the details. I had to ask for the book at Borders. They had only gotten two copies in and had left them in the back.

We try to take Seamus to the park on the weekends, if not for a hike, at least someplace fun and different for him. Today I decided to document our park time.

Some very autumnal seed pod thingys (why yes, I did take horticulture in college):

I really liked the twisty roots on this tree, plus I thought the way the tree was reflected in the water made the shot more interesting:

Then there were ducks. Lots and lots of ducks.

We are ducks. We swim nonchalantly by, quacking madly.

Oh, but perhaps you humans have some food?

"Hey lady, when the humans come to the water’s edge, we expect them to have some bread crusts. Don't make me come out of the pond!"

Seamus: “Watchit, ducks, leave my Hillary alone!”

Ducks : “See ya!”

Seamus was not cooperating at all with my many attempts to get a photo that captures his jaunty happiness as he trots through the park. I got one picture of him peeing on a lamp post, about 27 of him looking off in the wrong direction, and right at the end, just when I thought I had finally gotten the perfect photo, I hit the power button instead of the shutter. Again. Argh. Aside from that though, I'm having a lot of fun, so you might want to prepare yourself for more photos.

His house is at the end of the street, and as we made our loop through the common area, we came upon him in his shorts (the weather was actually quite lovely this morning) and watch cap, wielding the leaf blower, and he had the nerve to give us the stink eye as we went by.

If I were him, I’d have taken a moment to consider which one of us was violating county noise ordinances and pissing off the neighbors, and which one of us was quietly and law abidingly walking her dog through open space, armed with a bag of fresh poop. And then maybe I’d have smiled politely and nodded instead of giving her the narrow eye. I’m just sayin’ it might be the smarter move to make.

While desperately searching for inspiration – or was it just plain distraction – on the internet today, I somehow stumbled across a link to this story about a guy who makes over tiny spaces for Oprah. Well, he probably does other things too, but they only talked about the tiny space makeovers. I know tiny houses are kind of a hot new thing these days. They are economical, environmentally friendly, in keeping with the new frugal we-don’t-want-another-depression chic and unlikely to get foreclosed on.

They are also really, really small. This woman’s apartment is 250 square feet. If you click through and look at the photos, you’ll see they made it an exceptionally nice 250 square foot apartment, with all sorts of clever storage and tucked away things (the litter box is particularly fancy) and a very cool looking teensy kitchen. Even so, I would lose my mind in a space that small. She doesn’t even have room a door for the bathroom, just a curtain. I just couldn’t do it. I don’t need some 10,000 square foot mega mansion, but I need walls and space and a room of my own. Even when I was growing up, I loved it when my family went out and left me in the house by myself. Another classic American case of Manifest Destiny, I guess, just on smaller scale.

Plenty of people seem to feel these tiny spaces are just wonderful. What do you think? How small a space could you live in on your own? Or share with others?

It was an excellent plan except for two factors we hadn’t expected. First, they only get two copies of the New York Times at the Barnes & Noble in Frederick, and both copies were gone at 9:01. John suspects Barnes & Noble employees of absconding with them before the public ever had a chance. Second, we didn’t count on out of town people asking us to get them copies of the Washington Post. I would have stopped on the way in to work, but I got stuck in traffic and I had an early meeting . I can look for the New York Times at lunch, I thought.

But by lunch, there were no New York Timeses or Washington Posts to be found anywhere. I tried three different stores. Whole Foods briefly and cruelly misled me by having papers in their bin, but they were from Sunday. Then I heard they were doing special print runs of the New York Times and the Post and there would be additional copies available this evening. Lies! I tried again after kickboxing – 2 CVS, Wawa, Giant, Rite Aid and a Bottom Dollar later, I had found no papers. My poor mom was out at the same time, trying to do the same thing (although she got a copy of the NYT this morning at Starbucks, consarnit) and having no luck. In the end, we each managed to find the final couple of copies of the special commemorative edition of the Post, and that will have to do for the out-of-towners.

Ironically, just a couple of weeks ago I went through the same damn thing with the Washington Times. It’s a piece of crap conservative paper that I would normally never buy, but someone I know was quoted in an article and I thought he’d like a copy for himself. I ran all over town trying to find a place that had the Saturday edition, but they all had a Friday/Saturday edition instead, which was the wrong one. Who knew newspapers were still so relevant in this day and age?

For more newspaper fun, check out this link from my brother: http://www.newsdesigner.com/top50/