goldenrod bitch

the scary thing is that the two words do sound quite lovely together. and, after discussing this and many other things that would condemn us to hell, were we already not condemned to driving (me) and navigating (elizabeth) the shuttle bus to hell and back, i am reminded yet again that long phone conversations about everything and nothing all at once are the greatest. and that i need to introduce beth to all that is "cellar door" and donnie darko.

i'm starting a new project. hence the goldenrod bitch bit. i've decided to get in touch with my artistic side. first this project, then i am going to pick up a couple of canvases and try my hand at painting.

yes, i am being serious. i've bought enough "artwork" for my place ... it's about time i made some of my own. i still have some wallspace left ... somewhere ...

after several continuous evenings of battling truly warped sleep habits (i swear i haven't been able to fall soundly asleep before four thirty in days), i'm determined to fall asleep by one o'clock. i'll sleep soundly, wake up (relatively) early, the sun will be shining, the snow will have already melted and i'll be able to go running without worry about falling on ice and breaking myself.

if i do my part, mother nature shall do hers.

wish me luck.

p.s. as i write this, shortly after midnight my time, i think good thoughts for pete, who should be rocking the casbah around 9ish left coast time. hells yeah.