I’m not sure why I feel this obligation to grab the laptop and spend a few minutes justifying why exactly I haven’t been in front of the keyboard investing delicious amounts of my oh-so-precious time penning posts to entertain you.

Habit? Are you even worthy? Bah. Who am I to question it? Trust your instincts, roll with them. You’ll benefit from that soul food by being given these crumbs…

Saturday night: 8 hours of crap/tossing/turning
Sunday night: 12 hours of sleep

Christmas of orphaned singletons: Chinese food, drinks at Limerick Junction followed by Fun with Dick and Jane. While at Limerick I almost killed a man with my bare hands when I had to endure him wishing countless fellow patrons a “Happy Christmas”. Instead, I lost two arm wrestling competitions and enjoied a parade of festive but not tasteful holiday wear. Purdy.

Current reading: Cloud Atlas

E tu?

Wednesday night: 16 hours of sleep
Thursday night: 9 hours of sleep
Friday night: 14 hours of sleep

I’ve read It Ain’t Easy Being Green (birthday gift) and about half of The Alchemist, made some wicked 7 layer cookies, and prepped the kitchen with the supplies to make Irish Crème (by family recipe). I’ve done laundry, wrapped gifts, gone for a run or two, had a manicure and pedicure, and spent time with Codie.

This morning the sky is a blue so pretty and flawless it almost hurts to look at it, the trees are all naked and there are ice crystals on everything…causing the light to dance. In a few hours I’ll roll out to Sweetwater for a fix of my familiar trails, of clean air, of decomposing leaves and the musk of melted frost. But for now…just the next hour or two…it’s back to bed with The Alchemist, half listening to Clear and Present danger and the swishing of the water in the dish washer while I sip coffee and continue to recharge my batteries.

Slow, silent days can be so liberating.

Kissy boo, babies, and Merry Christmas Eve!

Update - 11:48. The Alchemist is finished and if I could, I’d lend it to you. Grab it when you’re feeling disconnected and wandering, or grab it when you’re feeling tranquil and grounded …what’s important is that you grab it at all. Quiet your mind and your cynicism, listen to what it tells you. Now: bathing followed by that air I spoke of earlier and consideration of my dreams…

There’s been buzz about this book called “He’s Just Not That Into You” (a phrase brought to America by Sex and the City), so I picked it up last week. A few friends of mine and I were talking about it and how so many of our girlfriends needed to read it. I figured if I was going to pass it along as advice I probably ought to read it myself - which I did - it in about 10 minutes.

The best parts exist in the table of contents alone (or viewable via the “Look Inside” pages on Amazon), making it almost unneccesarry to read any further. I did anyway. I chuckled a few times at the fact that via the “Dear Abby” format, he ranked on the folks soliciting him for advice in the same snide way that I might. The co-author had more tender insightful back-up to his responses, my socks weren’t knocked off. Alright, there were a few tips inside we all needed to take, but whatever. Maybe they’ll write a companion book and explain to men how playing hard-to-get can quickly translate into too-much-trouble-forget-about-it for women. Just a thought. I could probably come up with more, given time.

Here are the chapter titles, they should save you a few bucks:

~ He’s Just Not That Into You If He’s Not Asking You Out
~ He’s Just Not That Into You If He’s Not Calling You
~ He’s Just Not That Into You If He’s Not Dating You
~ He’s Just Not That Into You If He’s Not Having Sex with You
~ He’s Just Not That Into You If He’s Having Sex with Someone Else
~ He’s Just Not That Into You If He Only Wants to See You When He’s Drunk
~ He’s Just Not That Into You If He Doesn’t Want to Marry You
~ He’s Just Not That Into You If He’s Breaking Up with You
~ He’s Just Not That Into You If He’s Disappeared on You
~ He’s Just Not That Into You If He’s Married (and Other Insane Variations of Being Unavailable)
~ He’s Just Not That Into You If He’s a Slefish Jerk, a Bully, or a Really Big Freak

Giddy up.

Day 3 of not smoking, day 2 of the sniffles and day 1 of the rest of my life (isn’t it always day 1?).