I love to shop. I am not a shopaholic in anything approaching Sophie Kinsella-esque proportions, but I do love a good sale, a great bargain, the smell of crisp green cash being exchanged for something new and shiny, especially if it comes in a tiny blue bag.

While much of my shopping involves books, stationery, fancy pens, new music, and froufrou coffee, I also frequently buy clothing – I am, in fact, one of those women who has things in her closet with the tags still on them, purchased years ago, never worn, but kept because “someday I might.” I mean, doesn’t everyone need a gold lamé mini-dress? Yes, I thought so.

It is this very habit of mine, instilled in me at birth by a mother who designed and made all my clothes til I was ten and asked for real jeans, and my grandmother who shopped for Christmas presents all year, and ended up losing them within the house, only to rediscover them in the nick of time, to pile in front of me – I always got the most presents from her – it’s GOOD to be the favorite. (In truth, it wasn’t so much that I was the favorite as that I was the most present in her life.)

And it is this love of shopping that also has me in love with a website: http://www.webbyplanet.com.

WebbyPlanet is essentially the online equivalent of those coupon exchange tables that grocery stores used to have, where you could pick up coupons for stuff you might actually buy, and leave coupons for those that you don’t. In this case, you don’t have to leave anything but brief contact information, though there is an opt-in newsletter, and you take away coupons for everything from books to baby clothes, fashion to furniture, computers to coffee (by the way, did you know there’s actually a company called 800-ESPRESSO? Now you do).

I’ve had a great time browsing through the coupons and deal offerings, which are divided by category and feature a description of each retailer or e-tailer as well as coupons (general discounts) and deals (special offers) for each company. Some of the grammar on the site is a little awkward, but never so much that the meaning isn’t easily found, and the interface is easy to use.

I like the colors of the site as well, a soft coffee-and-cream color for the background, text in black, hot pink highlights. The overall effect reminds me a bit of a raspberry mocha, if such a drink was really a website, and the speed of the site is excellent.

I’ve bookmarked WebbyPlanet.
You should, as well.

Fuzzy’s still sleeping – and can you blame him? He was up for 36 hours straight, not including a nap on the plane, which finally landed shortly before two AM.

Cleo is sleeping. She had a tiring night, last night, having to run and check to see if Daddy was home, every time the dryer squeaked in the mud room (it connects to the garage), and then she chased a rodent around the dark back yard for an hour. Poor tired doggy. She was so floppy when we went to bed, finally, that even her knees were wrinkly. I love the way that happens to dogs – that they get so tired they can’t even hold their skin taut – it’s cute.

Zorro is sleeping. He was tucked between us for much of the night, but now he’s in a ball at the foot of the bed, nose to tail, the way dogs sleep. He gets very upset when his people are in different rooms of the house, so when Fuzzy was in the living room eating his sandwich last night, and I was in bed reading, he was forced to pace between us and chuff indignantly.

I am awake, obviously, because I haven’t yet mastered the art of blogging in my sleep, though in previous year blogathons I’ve come awfully close. I should be working on my book, or cleaning the kitchen, or any number of other things, but I’d rather stay here in the bed with Fuzzy and the dogs.

Even though I’m not sleepy.

Fuzzy just called. He’s on the ground in Dallas, and waiting for the shuttle to long term parking. He’ll be home within the hour…I hope.

I just made him a peanut butter sandwich, with honey, because I don’t have the energy to make anything else, and I know he’ll be too tired to eat anything else.

And while I wait, I’m watching reruns of Voyager, that tivo grabbed for me.

Heaven help me, but watching it now, I almost like it.

When they’re still, my dogs look very much like stuffed animals, their fur so soft, and shining in the soft light of the bedroom. Each of them is curled up on top of a pile of folded laundry, their idea of “helping” as I fold it. I don’t mind the flattening – saves ironing – but I wish they’d lay on outerwear instead of underwear.

This is how laundry folding works in my house: I do it on the bed, sitting in the center of it, with a movie playing on the dvd player across the room. I set the hanging stuff aside, and fold everything piling things in a circle around me. When a pile gets too high, I get up and fill drawers. Every so often, I write a blog entry, or read one, or chat with someone on IM, or just get pulled into the movie.

We both have enough clothing that, if we wanted, we could go two weeks without HAVING to do laundry, but on the rare occasions when busy lives had forced us to do so, we’ve been wearing the clothes we don’t particularly like at the end.

Tonight, folding laundry is grounding me, but it’s also disappointing me. All three pairs of my comfy sweatpants are too big, and falling apart, and I can’t justify keeping them. Ditto the stack of leggings I use as loungewear under sleepshirts, or as exercise wear with big comfy t-shirts.

I work from home, so I don’t particularly NEED a lot of fancy clothes, and actually, comfortable attire is better when I’m writing. In fact, as I write this I’m wearing the pink and grey striped sleepshirt that Fuzzy gave me for my birthday, and my hair is braided in two pigtails. I look about twelve.

But my two laundry helpers don’t care, as long as I scratch them behind the ears every so often.

Once again, it is the night Fuzzy is supposed to be flying back from California, and once again he is delayed.

Last time, his plane ran into weather, twenty minutes from Dallas, and had to be rerouted to San Antonio where they sat on the ground so long waiting for the storm to abate that they had to switch planes and flight crews, and then they sat on the ground again because the jetways were full and it didn’t occur to anyone to wheel over a set of stairs.

Tonight, the plane from Austin which he is supposed to board in order to fly back to Dallas, was delayed there, and never made it to California. The revised takeoff time is 8:45 PM PDT, which is in roughly fifteen minutes, but since his phone battery was essentially dead, I do not know if they actually are leaving or not.

He’s been awake since sometime last night.
He still has to drive home from the airport.

At least he can nap for three hours on the plane.

I don’t often write about the differences I’ve noticed in culture between California and Texas, but last week was our three-year Texaversary, and in exactly one month, we’ll have our third anniversary in this house, so to comment on some things seems appropriate.

California has better drivers. Sort of. They’re more inclined to use turn signals, and you don’t often see them driving across the median because there’s too much traffic in the exit lane, especially when said median is also a 20-foot deep ditch.

California has better produce. Some of the vegetables I’ve seen here look pretty, but there’s no flavor. Also, produce prices are much higher here.

California, overall, has better weather, little humidity, and almost no mosquitoes. Or water bugs.

But…

Texas has fewer people who sue each other at the drop of a hat. Not every broken item is greeted with shouted pleas for a product liability attorney, or the question, “Who can I sue?”

Texans, generally, are more polite. Yes, the pace of life is a little slower (excruciatingly so when it comes to real estate), but the trade off is this Southern graciousness in which strangers wave and smile, and clerks in stores meet your eye and ask “How y’all doin’?” Even in Target. Even in Big Lots.

While the weather here can suck sometimes – ice storms in winter, tornadoes in spring, outer bands of hurricanes in summer and fall – we have amazing lightning storms that are so much art and passion arcing across the sky that you don’t mind the rain.

You’ll notice I don’t compare politics. That’s because we live in a metropolitan area, and like most such places, there is cultural and political diversity. Anyway, I haven’t had any political issues. I haven’t had people shoving their religion or politics in my face. I know how to find people I’m comfortable with, and tune out the people who drive me crazy.

Also, I’ve learned that, at least in Texas, the phrase “Bless your heart,” carries an infinite number of meanings.

Appetizer
When was the last time you visited a hospital?
I had a CT scan about two years ago. Otherwise…I don’t really know anyone who’s required visiting, and we’re rarely seriously ill.

Soup
On a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being highest, how ambitious are you?
It depends on the day and the subject. Right now, with my book – very. With vacuuming the rug or folding the pile of laundry? Not so much. Overall…about a six.

Salad
Make a sentence using the letters of a body part. (Example: (mouth) My other ukelele tings healthily.)
Five intrepid newts gather, eating really slowly. (Fingers)

Main Course
If you were to start a club, what would the subject matter be, and what would you name it?
Fabulous! It would be a weekly gathering of creative types with a different theme to discuss or explore each time. Meetings would involve copious amounts of chocolate and froufrou cocktails.

Dessert
What color is the carpet/flooring in your home?
In the dining room, master bedroom, upstairs hallway, guest room, and on the stairs, the carpeting is the color of beach sand. In the library, it is blue. The upstairs bath has beige linoleum. The hearth and hall powder room have white ceramic tile. The master bath has warm beige ceramic tile. The foyer and entry are dusty blue ceramic tile that looks like painted brick, and our two offices and the living room are warm cherry wood laminate, while the laundry room is painted, poured concrete.

Want to play? Go to Friday’s Feast.

With premier season about to start, it is inevitable that we all start looking at our schedules and deciding which shows to check out, and which to avoid. While the CW isn’t the same without Gilmore Girls, a series I loved from the first, I have to admit that I’m intrigued by one of their offerings for the 2007-08 season: Gossip Girl.

Gossip Girl which was created by the same team responsible for The O.C. is, on the surface, a standard teen drama. It involves the lives of several Upper East Side teenagers, and their romance, angst, and explorations into sex, drugs and higher education. What makes it different, and what makes it worthy of my interest, as a blogger and follower of froufrou, is that the series is narrated by the Gossip Girl, and bookended by her blog entries talking about the lives of the people around her.

While we know that Kristen Bell provides the voiceover for Gossip Girl, she does not, apparently, appear in the series, or at least, we don’t know who the Gossip Girl really is.

I’m not sure if I like the thought of gossip as a motivating factor in storytelling. While I don’t really gossip on my blog (unless talk about the folks in my Starbucks counts), I’m no stranger to it, having worked in enough offices to know that where there is a group of people – male or female – gossip will ensue. Still the show looks interesting enough for me to want to take a look at it when it premiers on the 19th.

The rescue rooter guy came on time, and even though he managed to fix the tub stopper – it was just a matter of screwing the handle back to the disc correctly, he cursed at the poor design of the tub. “It seems unfair,” he said, “even though it’s in working order, to leave you with something not designed to drain the tub correctly.”

Our tub is a deep soaking tub, no jets, just lovely hot water and a window to view the stars through…

I so want to clone this plumber.

Also…he liked my use of a butter knife to drain the tub, then apologized for using the same knife.

How cool is that?