Orlando isn’t exactly the beach, but the one time I was there, I remember thinking, “Oh, this would be lovely without the humidity,” and “more time to visit Disney parks would be fun.” As a result of being there for a con, and not having a ton of free time, I’ve never managed to make it to Epcot, only to the Animal Kingdom.

To be honest, my Florida dream vacation involves renting a house on Sanibel Island, not a Orlando vacation home rental, but Fuzzzy does go to Florida quite often, and it’s a much more pleasant place to visit than, say, Sterling, VA in winter, where he’s been twice in the last two years, or Buffalo, NY during a cold, damp spring.

But the Harry Potter thing is opening in Orlando in 2009, and while I mocked it in this very blog just a few months ago, the truth is, I kind of want to see it (it’s not a Disney park, but part of Universal Studios Florida), because, really, you can’t be any kind of fan and NOT want to at least see it. Once. Briefly.

So maybe, just maybe, Orlando is on the horizon after all.

Miss Cleo is a bit of a klutz.

On our stroll today, she did her business then, because she’s so amazingly talented, managed to step in it while kicking grass to cover it.

She then tried to stop and “go” every few feet on the way home because she could smell herself.

And she was embarrassed.

Now, she’s mad at me, because when we arrived home, Zorro was let off his leash, but SHE was dragged to the back yard where the hose and her hind-quarters became well acquainted.

No doubt she’ll leave a present near the hose later, to show her opinion of the thing. Her honest opinion.

But at least she’s clean.

You’ve all been really polite about not complaining, but Carmi mentioned that having the comments link at the top of a post was a little confusing, and I’ve noticed that it’s especially so on those post where Mr. Linky is enabled, so I’ve moved the comments links to the BOTTOM of each post.

Just wanted to let everyone know.

Every month or so
On a trip, Fuzzy must go
He’s got the packing down to just one little bag

When he returns to me
My very first spousal duty:
About his expense reports, I must nag.

The accounting people are slow
Though they use payroll software, I know
So I worry when our bank balance starts to sag.

“Are you sure you sent it in?”
“I did,” he’ll say with a grin.
“Before you even told me,” he will brag.

“Good, cause the cable bill’s due.
And it’s an expensive one, too.”
I say this, and try not to sound like a hag.

“I hate when you go away.
I much prefer homecoming day,
Though I kind of wish you’d manage to bring me more swag.”

He laughs and gives me a kiss.
And for a few moments there’s bliss.
But then to my head comes this Reimbursement Rag.

And yes, I realize this isn’t a rag so much as a blues riff.
Also, he does bring me flowers whenever he goes to the grocery store.

Appetizer
Say there’s a book written about your life. Who would you want to narrate the audio version?
Patrick Stewart or Emma Thompson

Soup
Take the letters from your favorite kind of nut and write a sentence. (Example: Perhaps every avenue needs understanding today.)
Powerful imaginings send their authors careening headlong into OpenOffice.

Salad
If you could go back in time and spend one week in another decade, which decade would you choose?
The 1920s in Paris or New York

Main Course
Name a song that brings back memories for you.
“Joy to the World” by Three Dog Night

Dessert
Do you prefer to wash your hands in cold water or warm water?
Warm, but when I’m hot I’ll often hold my wrists under the cold water tap.

I’ve never been to North Carolina, except in books, and my fictional visits have never centered around Wilmington NC real estate, as much as they have beach houses on the Outer Banks, but even though I’ve never visited, it’s a place I’m drawn to.

I blame Anne Rivers Siddons. Her novels, slightly more romance than chick lit, but only slightly, always have these creative women who live at the beach, and don’t care if their hair is crusted with salt, or their khakis are ancient and worn, so long as they can enjoy the sun and the sand and maybe see a turtle or two.

The thing about Siddons, though, is that she makes all the east coast beaches feel amazing, better than the beaches of California, and far more wild and rugged than they really are. When you’re reading a Siddons book, you don’t have to think about how polluted the water is, or that people are overfishing, or that you’re as likely to get a fish hook embedded in your toe than a perfect summer tan glowing on your skin.

It’s escapism, but it’s escapism that carries with it the scent of salt air.

The ocean is in my thoughts more and more as summer draws to a close. Tourists may love the shore in summer – I always preferred it in fall.

Someday, I want to be one of those salty-haired women who live at the beach.
I want to look out at blue water, and write.

But I’ll write about creative women who sip designer coffee in trendy cafes.

I didn’t do Friday’s Feast last week, so I’m doing last week’s NOW, and will do this week’s when the wonderful admin over there post it…probably early tomorrow.

Appetizer
Describe your laundry routine. Do you have a certain day when you do it all, or do you just wash whatever you need for the next day?

It depends on my mood, and my schedule. There are some weekends where I spend most of Sunday doing laundry, and then there are times like tonight when I’m doing a load or two because I haven’t for a while and Fuzzy is out of socks. Actually, washing it is the easy part. It’s the folding we have to schedule.

Soup
In your opinion, what age will you be when you’ll consider yourself to truly be old?
One of my grandmothers, and one of my great aunts, each said that they weren’t officially old til they reached 90. That age works for me.

Salad
What is one of your goals? Is it short-term, long-term, or both?
Short term: Spend May, 2008 in Paris, writing.
Long term: Publish a novel by the time I’m 40.

Main Course
Name something unbelievable you’ve seen or read lately.
I don’t think I’ve read anything unbelievable recently, unless you count what’s going on in the mortgage industry, except, that’s VERY believable, just incredibly scary.

Dessert
On a scale of 1-10 with 10 being highest, how happy are you today?
I was about a 4 this morning, but since then I’ve increased to a solid 7.5.

In the last year of working from home, I’ve noticed that I am less and less in touch with popular culture. I don’t have a commute, so there’s no drive-time show to tell me which celebrities are going in or out of drug rehabilitation on any given day, and when I do have the radio or television on, it’s either NPR or the Discovery Channel or a movie that I’m half-listening to in the background.

In a way, this is bad, because I need to know some of this stuff for improv purposes, and because I feel stupid when I do socialize with people who aren’t my dogs or my ex-pat parents who live on the beach in Mexico. It’s truly frightening that Fuzzy knows more about which stars are dating or divorcing than I do.

This is part of the reason I’m looking forward to a three-hour salon session on September 1st (try saying that five times fast). I mean, yes, obviously, I’m looking forward to it because there’s almost no pink left in my hair and it looks ridiculous and my bangs are at the stage where I want to duct tape them just to get them out of my way. But there’s the other attraction of the salon: People Magazine.

This is not a magazine I’d ever purchase for myself. I consider it, like Entertainment Weekly, to be the kind of periodicals that are only appropriate while waiting in doctors’ offices or standing in line at the grocery store, or while there’s a bottle of pink dye soaking into your hair.

But for the couple of hours every few weeks that I read it, I secretly enjoy it.
Except for the book reviews. Because I don’t believe their reviewers actually read.