Hahahahahahaha. This morning I received a mailing from Borders that perfectly sums up my life at this point. Its subjecct line reads:
the Shortlist: Coupon, a Grammy Upset & the Lighting of the Flame
Coupon: I don't want to talk about it.
A Grammy Upset: All day, every day! Discontent to order!
The Lighting of the Flame: Right now, my silly planning for the Knitting Olympics is seriously keeping me from cracking up.
Borders: Thank you, Universe, for answering my question about where I should suggest my knit group meets next week. I've got to get away from my house more. Beloved knitters of the SSK, I know you like coming over to my ramshackle house (and for the life of me I don't get why since we pack ourselves in like sardines and the living room is still green and purple) but at least now and then we've got to . . . I've got to . . . find a new venue. I've got cabin fever. I want to escape and I want you all to come with me! So, how about Borders? It's getting back to our roots! It's where we started! They've got chocolate! There's no more jazz on Wednesday nights, so we won't have to shout to talk to each other! (I, for one, am disappointed about the jazz.)
What?! This email from Borders just keeps getting better and better! They are marketing to ME today. How come nobody told me that Jack Johnson did a soundtrack for the Curious George movie, which to this point I have been poo-pooing in my role as George purist? Suddenly, I'm over my snobbery; if Jack Johnson's on board, then so am I! Looks like I'd better get myself over to Borders and do some shopping. (Better not forget my coupon.)
Hmmm, one more curiosity. There's also a plug for a book entitled Manhunt, about John Wilkes Booth. My dad told me when I was a child that we were related to him. I've never found it in my genealogy. My dad also told me we're Irish. Scottish, yes, Welsh, yes, English, yes, but Irish? Can't find it. What was up with the family fables, Dad?
This is getting to be too random. So long.