shadow19's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Fourteen things. Fourteen things (a stolen idea)... One. I do almost all of my thinking in the shower. That's where all cylinders are firing. Trouble is, by the time I go to jot down the "great ideas," they seem to have schlooped down the drain. Still, I've written the bulk of my "last lines" in the shower. Two. I don't have to wear a bra for three days. Got tomorrow off, then it's the weekend. Ahhhh. Three. My watch band broke today. Soooo...since I'm pledging to "use up" before buying more, do I buy a new band for this cheap watch? Or do I revive a watch from the dead watch drawer by buying a battery and having it installed? Or do I break the pledge and just buy a new watch, which seem so much easier. Not to mention funner. (P.S. I know that "funner" isn't a real word. Don't yell at me.) Four. I'm intrigued at the idea of making my own cereal, as explained in January's issue of Cooking Light. Pecans and maple syrup are involved. Count me in. Five. I recently updated all of our bank accounts in Quicken, and then balanced them all. Let's keep it that way. Six. I love having a wallet full of gift cards. (Except when I left my purse at Panera last night. Talk about a gut-wrenching two mile ride back for retrieval. That short jaunt felt like it took HOURS.) Seven. On Sunday, when we were trapped by an ice storm, I sorted and reorganized the basket of stationary and cards that sits by my desk. Now it is purged and orderly, and I feel calmer just looking at it. Eight. I have a pen addiction. There's no doubt about it. Nine. I'm considering getting a tattoo, but can't think of an image that I want permanantly inked onto my body. Maybe Shadow...my now dead saint of a cat. She almost made 20, which seems worthy of a tattoo. (Still, I worry about hepatitis.) Ten. I'm a worrier. (See #9) Eleven. I try to use my Crock-Pot once a week. Didn't use it this week, though. Beef stew, for next week, sounds like a distinct possibility. Twelve. I was a Girl Scout drop-out. Had four badges, others had millions. And I hated the predictable Fig Newton snack. Thirteen. I'm WAY too attached to our new VW Touareg. We're still trying to figure out some of the gadgetry, but the navigation system is just too cool. Turn left. Turn right. You will be at your destination in 800 feet. You have reached your destination. Why yes, yes we have. Fourteen. I have a favorite spoon that I use to eat ice cream. And a favorite dish, too. They're mine. All mine. I could go on, but this seems like too much information already. 7:55 p.m. - 2005-01-06 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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