I’ve been pretty much offline since late late Thursday as I’ve been feeling crabby and vaguely nauseous, and why yes, it IS about time for a visit from a certain aunt who isn’t an aunt, thanks. Chocolate and bananas seem to be helping in small doses. I’m suddenly craving puffy Cheetoh’s though, and that’s not a food I generally like to indulge in. Food just shouldn’t BE that color orange.

Friday I slept a lot, feeling too queasy to be upright most of the day, and since Fuzzy was working from home, it seemed to work. I paused to make canned ravioli for his lunch, and had a tiny bit myself, which was not wise. At the last minute I decided I wanted to go help out at Comedy Sportz even though I felt like crap, and so I went, but Fuzzy didn’t stay, opting to go to his office and work on the crisis that had kept him in the house all day. I wore my spiffy purple and green plaid iridescent velvet bebop cap and worked bar, and made $3 in tips, which seems like nothing, except we don’t generally get tips at all. Coincidentally, the parking garage fee, after validation, is $3. The show was low energy, though. It was weird, actually, because J. opened the door for Fuzzy and me and was happy and singing hello, and then something seemed to suck the life out of the theatre. Everyone on stage was technically proficient, but they, the audience, and the sound booth personnel were all really subdued. Notes were brutal, and people essentially FLED afterwards, though a few of us hung out in the parking garage and chatted for a while.

Saturday, slept til ten, noodled on the computer, read, napped more, went to Panera for crispani and soup, then to PetCo and then to CSz, where I got to play. I felt queasy, still, and a little off-kilter, and made stupid mistakes, but had fun. It wasn’t MY greatest show, but it was a good show, I think. We all had fun. There was a little kid in the audience celebrating his birthday, and he and his friends suggested “Virgil” for everything: two syllable female name, dead celebrity, object to be used in lieu of clothing. By the time we got to STORY in the second half even the audience was sick of Virgil, so when an adult yelled “Virgil’s Not Here” as a snarky response to the kids, that WAS the story, and BigE killed Virgil in the first round. Defiantly. Demonstratively. Earlier in the match, I played “Blind Musical Comedy” for the first time, and while I’d have been better had I clarified things I didn’t think to clarify, rules-wise, it was fun trying something new. We ran long though and when E. called me at 10:30 to find out where we were eating, we were still in Notes. There’s a core group of us who go to dinner most nights after shows, and while it was a smaller group than usual last night, it was fun.

Today, we were up at dawn for church (choir rehearsal at 8:30 when you didn’t get to bed til 2:00 is really really difficult), and elected not to say for the luncheon – I was feeling too crabby and tired to be nice to people – we came home and rested a bit, and then went out to Cracker Barrell for completely unhealthy food (eggs, bacon, cheesy hash browns, and waffles), then to Barnes and Noble, where I bought the cd version of “Free to Be You and Me,” just because I loved it when I was a child, and was tickled that it was out.

Back home after that, for more rest, and then to workshop, where I spent the entire warmup hoping no one would make me HOP during Bippity Bippity BOP, and trying not to puke. I didn’t start feeling better til about fifteen minutes before the end, but I had fun, even so. We workshopped Good, Bad, Worse, and I tried a new character, who needs refining, and then Irish Drinking Song, which was So. Much. Fun. But then, I always love the musical games.

Dinner after that was chaotic and fun, as many of us trouped over to Spaghetti Warehouse, place of many leftovers. The conversation included comparisons of the Georgian, Chinese, and Jewish calendars, new tv shows (many of us are curious about Heroes), Grand Unification Theory, and Intelligent Design, among other tangents. I love this eclectic and intelligent group of people.

And now? I am home. I have an infected ingrown toenail I’m medicating, and I’m still a bit queasy, but I’m glad I forced myself to go do stuff, because it was a good distraction and I learned from it. Bed soon.

As Fuzzy was preparing to leave the house for work this morning, I heard him declare, “It’s Thursday,” which was relevant because Thursday is garbage and recycling day (as opposed to Monday which is garbage day but NOT recycling day) and we’d forgotten to put out anything. He quickly did so, then came into the bedroom and said, “We have another problem. There’s a bird in the house.”

“Is it dead?” I wanted to know, because Miss Cleo has developed a habit of killing birds lately, and leaving them displayed prominently in the middle of the living room floor.

“No, it’s alive.”

And thus began a half hour process of closing doors and curtains, and of Fuzzy first using a broom to get the bird of the windowsill 20 feet above the living room floor, and then, because it retreated to the crevice between the wall and the entertainment center, poking it with a stick until it was somewhere he could reach it. (By ‘stick’ I mean, the non-brush end of the broom handle, and by ‘poke’ I mean in a completely humane manner, of course.)

“Do we have rubber gloves?” he asked me.

“No,” I answered in my what-a-stupid-question-we-never-use-rubber-gloves tone. “Why?”

“I want to protect my hands. In case it has diseases and things.”

I’m uncertain as to exactly what ‘things’ a pigeon (well, it might have been a dove) is likely to have, mites, maybe, but I’m fairly certain that rubber gloves would not be much protection. Still, I offered, “I can give you a large Ziploc bag.”

This seemed to do the job, for five minutes later, Fuzzy had the bird in hand, and released it into the trees. He washed his hands – twice – kissed me, and set off for work.

I settled down to drink coffee and nibble on a toasted English muffin and watch the clouds for a while. I wasn’t expecting actual rain (though in any place other than north Texas the cloud cover would have guaranteed it), but we actually did get some real rain – not a lot – but some, before the wind blew the clouds away and replaced them with a relentlessly blue sky.

I vaguely recall there being a tornado watch, as well, but I wasn’t really paying attention to that.

We spent the evening out, indulging in a trip to Don Pablos for queso and chicken (mine was grilled, Fuzzy’s was in a chimichanga), and then came home and puttered on our respective computers. He went to bed at midnight, and I’m on my way there NOW.

Vague title, but it’s the best I can do tonight.

Just sent off articles number 3& 4 of the first five I was sent for a freelancing gig. Have one more to do, but my eyes are gluey and I didn’t sleep last night, and it’s just going to have to wait til early in the morning. Actually, they feel like they did when I still wore contacts and had conjunctivities. Antihistamine and preservative-free eye drops are helping.

Did not talk like a pirate today, as only conversations were with people buying property in Mexico. Was handed a million dollar deal. Commission will be about $10k if it closes. Please let this client not have extensive tax returns like the last one.

Yelled at TiVo for not having the new Time Warner lineup already synchronized. They claim it’ll be 3-5 days before they upgrade, which renders TiVo useless during premier week, as our channels are all moved around. Must remember to watch Project Runway in real time tomorrow as Bravo is an affected channel. Very frustrating. I mean, TWC has only been reminding ppl about the change for a month.

I barely slept last night. I think I turned out my reading light around four, and then Fuzzy woke me at eight-thirty, getting ready.

I’ve been having dreams that we live on an island. Or the shore. Near a lighthouse. I wish we did.

Bed now.

Sleep was fitful from about 2:00 on. For a while Zorro was curled up in my armpit, but then he wasn’t and I kept thinking, in my sleep-befuddled state, that he’d disappeared somehow. As in vanished from existence. Miss Cleo was being good – for her – no pushing higher and higher on the bed, nudging the humans into her preferred congfiguration, just staying tucked into a black and white ball with her head on my feet.

Rolling thunder and lightning flashing in my window woke me about five, and I realized I was sweaty, and kept thinking I needed to ask if it was safe to shower when there was lightning, which normally would never have occurred to me. My mind was really zooming to different places in the wee hours. Zorro was unphased, but Miss Cleo pushed her nose into my hand, and dug at the covers till I let her under – she doesn’t like storms.

At one point I was dreaming about a pair of red shoes that were more comfortable than anything, heels, and made me feel pretty, and that I wanted to wear them, but they were just too garish with all the outfits I was considering. “What if I changed the top to my fluffy red sweater?” my dream-self asked her mother. “It’s not even October, yet,” came the reply. It should be noted that while I wear heels once in a while, I don’t own red ones, and I would never seek justification to NOT wear flats. I live in flats. Flats are safer.

Have developed odd addiction to Pop-Cap’s ZUMA. Smashing those spiralling balls into oblivion is a really good stress reliever. Also, it’s kind of zen. No, really.

This morning, around six I escorted Zorro Dogg and Miss Cleo to the yard for their morning rituals and noticed five tiny geckos on the wall near the sliding door, their silvery skin and shining eyes looking like art etched into the rain-damp bricks. Miss Cleo didn’t notice them, and I’m glad.

It’s 7:23 and we’re off to church as soon as I figure out what to wear, and stop at Starbucks. I’m tired and crabby, and don’t really want to go, but singing in the morning always makes me feel better.

The following is a public service message for DFW denizens desperate for quality entertainment.
(MissMeliss’s Performance Nights with ComedySportz: Friday 9/15, Saturday 9/23, Friday 9/29)

Looking for Fun and Excitement? Come to the ComedySportz Arena in the West End!!!

Friday and Saturday night at 8PM, it’s ComedySportz. Fast paced, hilarious, and clean improvisational comedy. It’s two teams of professional comedians, competing for laughs and points, and YOU decide the winner. It’s the Interactive Improv Experience! Come see why NBC says, “If you haven’t seen it, you should!” Tickets are $12 in advance, $15 at the door. Call 214-521-5233 or go online to ComedySportzDFW.com to make reservations. Rated G

Late Night on Saturday, September 16th, it’s The Tap Water Tea Showcase. Hilarious stand-up comedy of Corey Sutton and Ken Mathias! You don’t want to miss this!!! Show starts at 10PM. Tickets are $12 in advance and $15 at the door. Call 214-521-5233 or go online to ComedySportzDFW.com to make reservations. Rated PG-17

Friday night, September 22nd at 10:3PM, it’s Open Mic Night at the West End. Come see some of the newest and funniest comics try out their new material. Tickets are $10. Call 214-521-5233 or go online to ComedySportzDFW.com for reservations. If you are a comic and want to perform, please contact bob AT bobzak DOT com. Rated PG-17.

Saturday Night, September 23rd, it’s the Unusual Suspects. Some of the funniest comics from the DFW area will take the stage in this stand-up showcase. They have performed around the metroplex and are making a return to the West End. Tickets are $12 in advance, and $15 at the door. Call 214-521-5233 or go online to ComedySportzDFW.com for reservations.

(Flyer text stolen from Jill)

– TNG fanfic has been posted on MoonChilde.com. It’s the first of 100, and un-beta’d.

– The argiope is fine – apparently she hid in the trees after Miss Cleo broke her web, and waited a day to come out again.

– I’ve spent the day with a marathon of Project Runway running on the periphery of my attention. 15 minutes into tonight’s episode, my mind was already so blown I had to post to LJ.

– My story idea for ATG was approved, now I just have to catch up with my interview subject, and see if she’ll give me something to submit as well.

– Toasted Cheese is holding their fall short story contest next weekend. Theme is sci-fi/fantasy. It’s a timed writing contest – 48 hours start to finish. I’m thinking of entering. Maybe.

I’ve been feeling sort of mute lately – reaction to being molested by mosquitoes, reaction to the slow but tangible change in the weather – even when it’s 90 there’s a hint of autumn beneath the heat now.

I didn’t write about 9/11 – but then I never have – because there are far more eloquent tributes written by others, and because I don’t like to dwell on the maudlin, and because I believe that filling the media with stories about it only lends power to those that caused it. Which isn’t to say that we shouldn’t remember, I just don’t believe it needs to be so public. I think what Rana and Carmi said are better than anything I could say, anyway.

I didn’t write about the 40th anniversary of Star Trek, because I forgot, and then because I didn’t have anything punchy to say. (I did, however, almost buy some TNG action figures at LoneStar the other day, but they didn’t have Data or Geordi, so I opted not to.) If you want to read a great TrekDay post, head to Wil Wheaton’s blog – the first two lines are the best.

I didn’t write about Cleo’s new habit of bringing in water bugs (known as cockroaches in less gracious parts of the world) and depositing them ON MY BED. And I didn’t write about the way she barrelled through the argiope’s web, causing me to be worried…about the SPIDER.

I didn’t write about the fact that I’m itching to bake, and have no one to bake for.
And I didn’t write about the customer service at Chase being the worst on earth.
And I certainly didn’t mention that I posted my first entry for fanfic 100 at LiveJournal, and that I’ll consider posting it to MoonChilde.com if people want to read it.

There are lots of other things I didn’t write about, too. But those were the key elements.

……or does having a business with a sign promising, “K******’s nude modelling studio” right next to a cargo-van rental facility start YOU thinking about bad white slavery movies, too?

The week has zoomed by, as abbreviated weeks are wont to do, I suppose.

I spend Tuesday mostly sleeping, nursing a pulled muscle, and a sore head, and just catching up on rest. It’s sort of ironic, that I’ve spent the last month waking by five and doing all sorts of extra hours, and when I’m finally free? I was up at 4-ish the day I wrote my last post, and as I write this now it’s not even seven, and I’ve been up for an hour. Of course, I might go back to bed again. Because I can.

I don’t remember Wednesday, except for watching Project Runway.

Yesterday was a day of coffee, podcasts and tax returns. I haven’t used my coffee maker since my mother was here in May, because I haven’t been home, but it was there on the counter all gleaming and silvery yesterday, and there was a bag of breakfast blend in the freezer, and so I indulged in an entire pot – not all at once, of course – and grinned at the coffee scent wafting through the house.

While I sipped coffee (and waited for 400 pages of 1040’s 1120’s and 1065’s to print, which tax foo I promised to analyze for a loan my mother is doing), I listened to all eight of the available season three podcasts from Tim Gunn. I love audio performances, anyway, and his podcasts are not unlike sitting down for cocktails and hearing the local gossip. Addictive.

The tax returns beckoned, though, and so I surfed to MGIC’s website and downloaded their cool analysis software. Oh, I have a spreadsheet that does the same thing, but this is neater and more precise. Yay MGIC. Two hours later, I’d done an AGI analysis and a SAM (schedule analysis) on two years of returns, and emailed the end result off to my mother. I haven’t shredded the returns yet, in case she needs them for something, because no way am I reprinting that much paper.

Yesterday was ALSO Fuzzy’s birthday, but I’m the one who got a cool package in the mail. I sent him a gift basket at work, full of munchies, because he doesn’t like flowers, and he never remembers to eat lunch. We’re doing his birthday dinner over the weekend, which I’ve taken off from ComedySportz. (I’m already in withdrawl – workshop cannot come soon enough.)

My plans for today are lofty: Laundry, lounging, scribbling, maybe working with the cd I bought to help learn more accents. Letter writing. Oh, and more coffee.

…may get other people down, but personally, when said Monday is either a) the first day of a month of vacation or b) a holiday, or c) both, I love them. Yesterday was both rainy and a Monday, a lamplit day of the sort appropriate for quiet pursuits. It would have been ideal for reading and listening to NPR and napping in the afternoon just because we could.

We both did do some reading – Fuzzy finished book four in a dragon series we’ve both been reading, which books are fabulous in concept, but really poorly edited, which annoys me, though doesn’t seem to phase Fuzz. I’m not talking awkward word choices here and there either, but more basic things like spelling and grammar. These books might have been run through the spell-check in Word, but that’s about it.

I, on the other hand, went to Barnes and Noble the other night and bought NOTHING – because I’m the only person in the world who can walk into a store full of books and leave claiming there’s nothing to read. In truth, there were a couple things I picked up and then put down, because none fit my mood. Upon returning home, however, I found a book I’d purchased a few weeks ago and had started then set aside because some other book claimed my attention. Now, however, it fit my mood, and so I’ve been read it in fits and snatches all weekend, mostly in the bathroom.

Otherwise, I indulged in a personal MONK marathon while doing seemingly endless loads of laundry, and cuddling with the dogs. I still feel really achey from a pulled muscle, and I still feel like I’m behind on sleep. Tonight, I turned the lights out at 11:30 – early for me, especially considering I don’t have to be up at five – and I was blissfully asleep for an hour, until Fuzzy came to bed, which involved the Ritual of Last Call for the dogs, and then the subsequent dominance games they play on our bed. In the process, Zorro decided that going out into the wet to pee was Not Going to Happen, and announced this by leaving a veritable lake on the living room floor. He’s becoming more and more cantankerous now that he’s nine. So one AM found me keeping Cleo away from the puddle, and Fuzzy on his knees cleaning the floor. I love my dogs. But sometimes I wish we’d stuck with fish. Fish are good. They’re quiet, they don’t bring dead things into the living room, you don’t have to walk them, and if you forget to feed them they eat each other. Of course, they’re more like furniture than actual pets, but…

Anyway, here it is 4 AM. I woke convinced I’d heard a noise, except I think I dreamed it, but Fuzzy was up, as well, because he had to use the bathroom, which triggered my need and now I’m awake, and restless, and it’s hot, but then it’s not, and the pillows aren’t cool – even when I flipped mine over so the cool side would be against my cheek, it felt warm – and, and, and…

I’d talked to my mother briefly earlier in the day, because I was concerned since all day Sunday when I tried to call I kept getting messages that I was unable to call that country, even when I tried her toll-free number, so when we finally connected I was half-convinced Hurricane John had rebuilt itself after going over the Gulf of California, which would never have made the local media here because once Cabo San Lucas was determined to be out of danger, the rest of Baja ceased to exist. It turns out that they were fine – had power back but no internet, yet, and that TelMex had blocked the lines to avoid panic calls. Groovous.

I’m not sure what I’m doing today – I have plans that range from “nothing” to “clean the kitchen top to bottom” and “make your office neat, orderly, and work friendly” but whatever I decide, for the moment, I’m going back to sleep, or at least turning off the computer and lying in the dark to listen to the restful breathing of Fuzzy and the dogs.

And to smile softly about a day of rain.