The Stars and the Cookie Jar

Just when you thought all I did was sling coffee, scribble in notebooks, and read the Mabinogion Tetralogy, I show alarming signs of getting a life.

Not just leaving out a dish of milk for the leith broghan who seems to have stolen one each of my work shoes (black left, brown right) -- though I wonder if they accept Silk Vanilla -- but an actual chain of social interactions. I'm  'an honored guest' at some St. Paddy's thing Dain is doing, and there are sings every coming Sunday, and a shabbes dinner on Friday, and random poetry readings at the cathedral (all my friends write better poetry than what's been read, IMHO) and I have to legitimately learn 'The Greenwood Side' and 'Jack Orion' (my musician acquaintances got hit over the head with a large amount of Pentangle.) by the 17th. Yee!

In other good news, Birmingham has added ten or so real, CTA/MBTA caliber buses to its fleet. Too bad they still only run every 90 frickin' minutes, but what can you do? I'll take an air-conditioned bus that runs every hour and a half over some clunk of junk van-thing every thirty...

We have attempted to learn to drive. Three times. It has not gone well with us.

And I am exhausted, and has anyone seen my shoes? And dammit, at least it's a good CD stuck in my computer's CD-ROM drive, but the fact remains, it's stuck wicked well.