I have this innate ability to pick shoes that sound perfectly fine (that is, they don’t make noise) in the store, but take on a characteristic squeak or whoosh when I get them home. When approaching someone from behind earlier this week I was actually recognized by the squeak one of my sneakers makes when I walk. I thought it might go away over time, but I have had them for a year and my left shoe still makes a small but noticable noise when I step down. And just now, a man actually stopped and pointed at my new sandals, both of which are blessed with a piston-like sound when I walk.

Reading Craig’s blog lately makes me hate him.

Well, hate is a pretty strong word. Really, I envy him and his globe-trotting ways, prancing around the museums, gardens and churches of Europe. And on top of that, he gets paid to fly to all these far-reaching places! Granted, he must work long, not-so-fun hours inbetween his tourist excursions, but Rome?!?

Thankfully my own little European fun is only a few short months away 😉

Oh My. I guess I’m a sinner. [ via helmer ]

I think my favourite part of the article is when they describe the “shiny, “lickable” buttons” of OSX.

The littler the animal, the more expensive it is when they get sick. My hedgie, who goes nowhere farther than the other side of his cage, somehow managed to fracture his spine. The vet isn’t sure if this is the cause of his partial paralysis, or if some other unseen malady is causing his little hind legs to run no more.

In the meantime I have to try to get antibiotic, antiinflamatory, and antinausea medicine in his mouth in the hopes that his little legs will run again.

But I still don’t understand how he managed to fracture his spine when he is only half an inch off the ground.

Sometime tonight, on my way to or from Brad’s place to watch the series finale of Buffy, my car odometer will silently roll over to 200,000 kilometers.

I had my learners permit only a few short months when my mother first purchased this car.

It’s like it was designed just for me …

Bingo really isn’t as easy as it seems.

First of all, the caller sounded like she was underwater. We just kept looking at the monitors or the big board ‘o numbers to find out what we should be dabbing. The dabbing was of course fun, and brought back many memories of drunken parties where the first person to pass out got bingo-dabbed.

Second, you never play just one card. We were playing nine, which were split into a three by three grid. Until I realized what a “perfect card” was, I was checking every card. Then, slowly, I realized that a perfect card only has one instance of a number in any given column. Which makes it quite a bit easier since you know once you have found the number in one column, you can move onto the next column. It also means that every column has an instance of the number in it. So if you can’t find it, look again.

Third, just when you are coming near to whatever it is that passes for “success” that round someone else beats you to it. And to top it all off, they don’t even get excited about winning a few hundred dollars. I got excited about coming close to winning twenty-five!!

I said I’d write more once the weather got a little warmer and the snow got a little scarcer. I think I’m doing pretty well.

hair.

Happy Birthday Terry!