The Tuesdays

Nothing tops off a so-so day with a good ending like a call from an old friend. The old friend in this case was my roommate and partner in crime while I lived in Dallas. B is funny and talks more than I do which is a great feat. I got caught up on all the news from my old group. Today is Tuesday, which means they are all at home sleeping soundly after consuming too many beers at our favorite bar. Every week for almost two years we have been going to the same bar, with the same tired old crowd, to discuss the week and drink our troubles away or celebrate, as the case may be. This is one of the things I miss the most about Dallas. One of the group has started a weekly “Bostonian” update which B has promised to send my way. What is not fun about the combination of friends, beer, great bartenders, and food? Nothing, I say.

After a dreary few days, the clouds finally let loose and it has rained a bit. I made a chocolate flan cake for work tomorrow and I watched the two penultimate* episodes of the fourth season of Buffy. Did I mention my lack of life? I had more drinking outings in Dallas.

It occurs to me that I am now simply typing without real purpose. This means I should go to bed. Sweet dreams to all.

*I have been waiting days to use that word. Anyone else having Monty Python flashbacks?


Maybe this Forbes article will explain why I can not control myself around alcohol. “I’m sorry officer. I am genetically predisposed to like and consume alcoholic beverages.”

-posted by Jane who wished she had a flask in her pocket

Bathroom Etiquette

At my library, the staff bathrooms are unisex, which I usually do not mind, but I have one complaint. Is it really too much to ask that the men not pee all over the floor? I am not talking about splashing here, I am talking large puddles where my feet and pants’ legs touch the floor. This must stop. Men, aim for the large hole in front of you.


The visit with Mr. R’s parents went great. It is always nice to see family. There was some nagging; I was happy.

The Aggies beat Texas Tech in OT, so I had at least one reason to smile this weekend. We moved up one spot to 21 in the BCS poll. Now if we can just beat Texas in two weeks, I’ll be a happy girl.

I am fighting a sinus infection. I can never decide what is the worst thing about having a sinus infection: the pressure in my forehead and cheekbones? The headache that comes from the pressure? The floatiness that comes from the two above? The irritated stomach from the copious amounts of snot? It all sucks. Oh, and about a week from now I will have a cold sore on my nose from blowing it so often. Crap.

On a somewhat lighter note, due to Netflix I have no life. You heard me, Netflix. I am a firm believer in the genius of Joss Whedon, but I have never seen Buffy the Vampire Slayer from the beginning. I got Netflix for the sole purpose of watching them all. It is sad, I know. There is the added reason that there is almost nothing good left on TV thanks to reality shows and idiot executives, must I say it…. Angel and Firefly? But I digress. I come home at night and end up watching about one disc, 4 episodes, a night. I have almost stopped reading! I have stopped meaningless surfing on the net! I just get sucked in. I am now on season 4, so in a couple more weeks, this craziness will be over.

Moving on to Books
I finished Emma last week and I am now going to start The Book Shop, by Penelope Fitzgerald. I have repeatedly seen her name on lists of “books you should read ‘cuz they are good”. I will let you know what I think. Of course, Emma was great. It was Austen.

Parental Advisory

Mr. Rochester – aka the Boyfriend (but only when he is in the dog house) – has the supreme pleasure of having his parents visit this weekend. They live, much to his current relief, in Annapolis, but they frequently find occasions, or none at all, to come and visit their dear children here in Houston. I hold the firm belief that Mr. R only dreads these visits because it gives his mother and sister, K, the opportunity to group nag him. I, of course, never join in (this is me cackling in the background). I actually find a perverse pleasure in hearing someone else nag him on topics on which I can not sometimes help giving my opinion. It is like when you were younger and you would be unable to stop laughing hysterically as your sibling was severely upbraided by your mother. Why was this so funny? Ok, it still makes me laugh, but I am a cold hearted bitch. Time and age have not changed that.

In conclusion, please wish me many happy moments in which I sit back and gloat as Mr. R is nagged by someone other than his sweet Jane.


An Epitaph for Delilah, sugar glider of unknown age:

Delilah had a hard life before we got her, full of people who did not know how to house, keep, or feed a sugar glider. When she first came to us, she did not like us at all, but time and love won her over. Delilah had a funny habit of never jumping anywhere but rather flinging herself from place to place. She used to nibble my fingers to verify that I had not spontaneously become cantaloupe or grapes. On Delilah’s last night, she curled up in my lap and went to sleep. She was with us for almost 5 years. Good-bye my sweet, dainty girl.

Delilah is survived by her partner Samson, their son Puck, and her loving parents, Jane and Mr. Rochester.

On a lighter note

I have got to learn to not drink coffee while I walk. I am unable to accomplish this feat without spilling some of it on my shirt in embarrassing places. You know, they stick out and catch things.