I'm going to jump on the bandwagon here at Cementhorizon and get all chirpy at you about what a fantastic Easter weekend I'm having. If there isn't already a neatly combined word for blogging while bragging, there needs to be one. Blagging? Brogging? Me, I prefer to blag.
Yesterday, as Michele and Kristen have both gone out of their way to explain, a small crowd of us lay around in the sun in Pleasant Hill Park and ate picnicky foods and drank mimosas out of a cooler. We played terrible baseball and worse badminton and frankly inexcusable egg-tossing and then, our limited energy spent, lay back in the grass watching other people with greater commitments to athletic activity. As afternoon turned into evening the hardiest of us stayed to get whipped in a card game named after my cat, and then dispersed to our respective homes feeling filled to the gills with sugar and sunshine and lazy Saturdayation. I, for one, spent a couple of hours playing with tattoo designs and then curled up in bed with a P.G. Wodehouse book.
I awoke this morning in the kind of generally beautiful mood appropriate to the transition from sleep to cooking, and spent my usual gratifying Sunday morning making oatmeal and pancakes and breakfast stir-fry for my unfailingly appreciative housemates. So benevolent was I feeling that I didn't even complain about cleaning up my cooking mess to leave the kitchen nice for the dinner cooks, and that, given the amount of mess I can make during two hours of cooking, is quite some benevolence.
Most importantly, on my way to work this afternoon, I walked past a generic flower bed on campus and saw, growing nonchalantly among the weeds, a single pale pinkish orchid. Pale pinkish orchids do not generally grow in weedy flower beds in Berkeley, so I backtracked to look again. There it still was, weird little mouthparts sticking out all over the place. A look around showed everyone else in sight going about their business with perfect normalcy... so I stuck out my tongue at the orchid. It returned the gesture regally, and I huffed and hitched up my imaginary skirts and swept off to work trying to hide my unladylike snickering.
On my way home today I'm dropping off my tattoo doodlings with Dan at Industrial Strength. I believe in choosing the artist to fit the work being done, and if one has a vegetarian artist and a leafy green heart that says SOY it's almost a heavenly mandate to combine them. Besides, it's co-op night at Industrial Strength on Friday, and I can't resist the urge to give them good feedback for playing nicely with one of their most enthusiastic and creative customer bases.
So what I'm saying is that this weekend isn't exactly getting any worse here.Posted by dianna at April 8, 2007 02:30 PM