Nothing to say...

Where is my b-logging inspiration? I am tired today which makes me a sly dog at work. There have been many sidelong glances, sneers, and snide comments today. All recipients totally deserving, of course, and mostly oblivious since most of the sneering and snide-making was internal.

Monday and Tuesday mostly just blur together into one big long day with eating, working, and class attendance. Discovering my ability to work full time and also go to school gives me hope that one day, I will have a job that I lurve and also be able to make mad cash working at the Mall (of America) after hours or perhaps taking night classes in whatevah , but with less of a sense of desperation, less scramble.

Wednesday mornings are my fav at our house because Ceara has a standing appointment so she gets up with Nate and me. I make her a breakfast sandwich--this a.m. we had egg whites, ham, and chives on English Muffs (delish, if I do say so m'self). We all pile into the car, Nate drives to school, where we all get out of the car to switch places, and I drive Ceara north of St. Paul on my way to work and drop her off. This morning, Ceara requested Lilly Allen as our soundtrack (as is her way), but I made her listen to a song off of Atmosphere's new album first.

So we're rocking out to Lilly by the time we're tooling up the substitute route for 35W North since the bridge collapse. We take and are sailing around the curve of the exit right next to another car when I see a woman in her early 60's wearing a cardigan, or maybe it was tied around her neck, with a white bob being blown about in the October wind. She's waving her hands I see as I ask Ceara, "WHAT is she doing?!" I then finally look ahead of me and see that she is gesturing at the white compact that is sitting RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME...like, right! now! I swerve to the left and just miss it. Luckily, the car next to me has figured out what's up in the same split second as me so I narrowly avoid careening into him/her. Ceara seems mostly oblivious to just how close a call that was and I spend the next several miles, my heart beating like a rabbit's, hearing the screech of tires and the sickening smack of metal in my ears. And at the same time I realize that the profound nature of close calls never really comes across in a story because the outcome is like a punchline ("Oh, but you survived so this is just like a boring joke") that people know the whole time you're telling the story. Probably wouldn't've been such a close call if I had back the few seconds I was wondering about the deranged woman interpretive dancing on the exit lawn.

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On a lighter note, I post this photo for Erin's benefit so that she will know that Ceara really does live with us. Compare to previous post of peaceful-looking Ceara in pristine room.

In other Ceara news, I dropped her off at the Guthrie Theater on the way to work this morning so she could be at the head of the rush line for tickets to King Lear with Sir Ian McKellan. She and the woman next to her, #2 & #3 in line, scored the first 2 tickets. She's going this Saturday to the matinee. Rockin'.

This photo of the Guthrie courtesy alt text's photostream at flickr. The cantilever 'neverending bridge' offers a fab view of the Mississippi. I had the opportunity to see the demolition of the old Guthrie this summer when it was at a stage where the brick building was gone, but the seating was basking in the sun, a temporary outdoor ampitheater. Neato.

And now for the weekend round-up in pictures. First, we have a photo of my activities on Saturday: homework, but homework in the backyard in October in 80-degree weather [scary]. This is when I discovered that I have a cat. It is possible that this cat already belongs to someone, but is bored and found the hobby it is looking for when it discovered the hole at the base of the garage to stare at intently. It is also possible that this cat actually depends on this hole as a source of food (which provides an alternative accounting for the intensity). Said cat was in pictured position for several hours per day throughout the weekend and beginning of the week. All submissions for adopticat names will be considered.

FYI Mom and Dad: Nate LOVES his birthday present which we discovered last night after an hour on the couch [the box is, like, 4 feet tall]. It might have arrived in Morris's Disappearing Bag which subsequently slid off to reveal its presence so I am going to keep looking around in that corner for collateral giftage.

In this photo, he queries roommates: "What is this!? Look at this stick!"

Ceara: "Maybe it is so that the sleep pad will lie flat."

Nate: "Is it a beatin' stick?! I think it is!"

Mom, Dad, thanks to you Nate will now sleep happily through the night in the wilds because A) as Nate observed, "The ground is hard. This is not hard, this is soft." and also B) He will sleep confidently knowing that he can beat off possums and other creepy rodentia.

After this conversation, Nate and Tegan fell asleep on new sleep pad and it is, indeed, much softer than the ground. Word.