I'm in a Doo Wop mood today. It's just so FUN. And very refreshing/comforting after hearing something on the radio that consists mostly of the words "bitch," "hoe" and "smack." For clarification, I only ever hear those songs against my will. Whenever my coworkers have shit like that playing in the stockroom, I just belt out "Earth Angel" to counter it. Now THAT is a good song.
Sam freakin' Cooke. My ear are nommin'.
I'm not a fan of roses. Is that weird? I have nothing against them, they're lovely. I like the ones that are more than one color. But I like others way better. Lilacs win for smell. Holy cow. And sunflowers are awesome. They're just all...sunny (she finished lamely). Apparently a distant relative of mine (Luther Burbank) used to splice genes to make new plant varieties. We visited a place near Burbank, CA where they had a garden of his experiments. There were lots of roses. That's my one claim to pseudo-fame: Burbank, CA is named after my, like, fifth cousin four times removed or something. From ages ago. YEAH. When we were there I got this candy made from the juice of prickly pear cacti. So tasty.
I'm pausing this post to go to the library with my sister. PAUSE.
I had an "El Cubano" sandwich for lunch. I have no idea what was supposed to make it Cuban, but it was super delicious. Welcome to my exciting life.
At the library, Steph and I were talking about how possessive I get over my books. I have trouble with libraries because after I read a book I love, I want to keep it. Yeah I could return it and go buy a copy, but then it's not the one I read first. It's a bit stupid and sentimental. Plus, sometimes I like to underline passages I like. It's funny how rarely I do that. I think most of the books I read tend to be exciting, so I'm just focused on the story. But slower stories make me think more about the words. I've underlined the hell out of The Great Gatsby. And I didn't get very far into The Odyssey yet but I've done the same in that one.
Oh god, I hear wedding talk in the living room. My sister is Maid of Honor for her best friend's wedding, I think it'll be next summer. I know I'll be MoH at hers eventually, but I'm hoping she'll get a lot of the logistical help from her other bridesmaids. Give me my dress, tell me what needs to be done. Don't ask for my opinion on what looks better as a centerpiece between plum and royal purple. I can't do the piecing together bit. I can be shown a finished idea and offer an opinion. But good heavens, I am so not the person to consult about dresses and place settings and centerpieces or any of the stuff I hear Steph having to deal with. Luckily I think Steph knows that.
Once I was at Pike Place Market and this group of guys was singing this song. It was really excellent. I've seen them before, and every time I have to make whoever I'm with stop so we can listen to them.
This is just as random and pointless as last night's post. But at least then I had the excuse of being deliriously tired. The moral of the story is: I should live in a malt shop. Fin.
When this old world starts getting me down / and people are just too much for me to face / I climb way up to the top of the stairs / and all my cares just drift right into space. -Up On The Roof, The Drifters
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