I love him and his music.

However, the time machine that music can sometimes be and the accompanying fact that I just got an e-mail about my upcoming 20th HIGH SCHOOL RE-FUCKING-UNION has left me feeling a bit�aged.

Actually, I feel the need to clarify this because I know I joke about being old all the time. My age doesn�t actually bother me at all. First of all, I don�t feel old; I don�t even feel 36, which isn�t old anyway but is my true age. I think being the youngest in my family helps because no matter how old I get, I�ll always be �the baby� in the eyes of several people I know. Plus, they evidently will always treat me like I am a child, which has instilled in me a penchant for behaving like one. It�s just that sometimes the fact that I am 36 years old will sink in suddenly and I�ll just say to myself, �Man�I�m 36�it seems like I should be old�� I do realize, though, that 36 isn�t really that old.

More importantly, I wouldn�t go back to a younger age to save my freakin� life. I�m a much better person now and wouldn�t trade that fact for perky breasts alone.

Contrarily, it upsets me more that I still have almost as many years to work before I retire as I have been alive on this planet�

~~~

I might have had a nice day today.

The weekend was, in a word: Lovely. Truly lovely (OK, two words). It poured rain all day Saturday, so John and I stayed in all day. I made a real breakfast and a totally rad dinner. Not having actually cooked two meals from honest-to-goodness scratch in one day in quite some time, I felt the need to make note of it here because who knows when it will happen again? Actually, I am a decent cook. I just don�t feel the need to cook actual meals just for one person very often, ya dig? But once again I digress�

John and I lay around all day Saturday, being lazy. We watched movies (including some real duds, such as Robin Hood, Prince of Thieves; although I must say the jokes I made through the whole flick kind of made it worth the sitting through it again), snuggled* and drank Mimosas and Baileys and Coffees.

Sunday could not have been more beautiful, weather-wise. The sun was out, the sky was clear, the air was crisp and clean�and I was inside my pad, dusting furniture and vacuuming floors. Oh and doing John�s laundry for him while he was at his sister�s. :) Still, I got a lot accomplished and so felt wonderful. My pad pert-near sparkles now, it�s so clean! And I did actually go outside a few times. :)

I didn�t even really blow my diet this weekend, which is rather akin to a miracle, especially since John brought with him to my house a certain substance that I hold near and dear to my heart but which tends to give me a rampant case of the munchies�it sure did help me get caught up on my sleep, though, thank the Lord. Ooh, plus, John affirmed that I am losing weight by telling me I look like a �twig.� Ah�God bless the man. :) (Keep in mind that his use of the word �twig� in no way realistically reflects what I look like naked. I am not becoming Anorexic; John was just generous in his assessment.)

PLUS, the UK Wildcats (seeded #2, I might add, but possibly #1 after this weekend) won again in their basketball game on Saturday. Not that I really got to watch much of the game, but I snuck in a few peeks when John was out of the room

John doesn�t like sports, you see. None of them. There are many ways in which I have always been the man in our relationship � my loving certain sports while he has no taste whatsoever being only one of them.

John and I really had a nice, close time. We just seemed to want to touch each other a lot. I�m not talking about sex, here, people; I do have more facets than one, believe it or not�we were just very touchy-feely and sappy. He said nice things to me. The insecurity of our world right now appears to be having long-stretching affects on us (and yet, for some reason, I complain). :)

Which brings me to why I ended up not being very happy today. I saw Colin Powell on the t.v. this morning.

I�m actually kind of pissed off at France. I haven�t been, up until now. Being against the war myself, it�s been easy for me to see their side of the issue. But I don�t think they handled this weekend�s developments very well, absolutely refusing to consider the new Directive that Dubya and Tony Blair were trying to put together. Had it worked, it would have bought us all at least another month. By refusing to even consider it, France pushed the issue. So now Dubya is giving the Grand Ultimatum tonight: Either get out tonight, Saddam, or we will let the bombs fly. And Saddam�s people have already pretty much said, �Fuck off, Dubya. We think you should leave office, instead.�

I guess we can always hope and pray that Saddam will chicken out and realize he�d better step down�If that happens, I will personally send an e-mail to Dubya in which I kiss his flat white ass and apologize for ever doubting him.

Have ya figured out yet that I am not holding out much hope for this development?

(However, just in case, I am not offering to literally kiss Dubya�s bee-hind; cuz I mean, really � I have my limits.)

I haven�t heard yet that Carla�s John is being shipped out, but I think it�s imminent. He won�t be getting out of the service this summer, like he was supposed to, at the very least.

St. Patrick�s Day is usually one of the most fun days of the year for me. Yes, I�m a bit Irish, but mostly it�s just a grand ol� excuse to party. While I really don�t need such an excuse, I�ll take one and run with it if it�s handy. Usually at about this time of day I�d be trying to figure out a way to ditch work early so that I can go grab a big table at the bar for me and all my �Irish-for-the-night� friends and looking forward to the laughs to come. Tonight, instead of partaking in drunken tomfoolery as is my usual practice on March 17, I shall be safely ensconced in my pad with a glass of wine, some Chinese food and Waylon Jennings� autobiography; trying to focus on what I love about my life. If the Lakers can manage to beat the Clippers (which should be easy, but one can not be too hasty in such an assessment, at least not this season), this task will be much easier.

But there�s no actual party in my pants so no need for you all to come.

**Why is that John is always nice and warm when I am cold? This attribute makes is very difficult not to miss him when he�s not around.

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~~~~~~~~~~~peace, love and smooches~~~~~~~~~~~~~


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