Drumroll please.
Last night….
Esteban DID THE DISHES!!!!!
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
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Today is Esteban and my anniversary. It seems almost moot because we’ve been together so long (11 years) that when people ask which anniversary it is and I say “Two years” and it’s a bit anti-climatic.
(Is it ‘anti-climatic’ or ‘anti-climaCtic’? I can never remember. I know that one has to do with being a non-climax and the other one has to do with being anti-weather. Don’t want to offend any meteorologists. I did horrible in Meteorology 101 in college, so maybe anti-weather would be approppo too)
Last night, Esteban’s parents gave us our anniversary present. A paper shredder. I’m trying not to look for the symbolism.
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Now that I’ve signed up for the “Gold Membership” to Diaryland, I can see that there are many readers of this here diary. 58 of you read this over the weekend. Wow. Just wow. I’m truly flattered. It made me giddy all weekend! Thank you!
One weird thing I learned from the statistics I now receive… it tells me what website linked to my diary. Nothing shocking here… a lot off my personal web page. However, there were a few odditities here and there. For instance… someone was searching Google.Com for the phrase “sushi ear infection” and got linked to my end of year entry for 2000. I don’t even want to know what that was about. Maybe they were looking for a correlation between eating sushi and getting ear infections? For the record, I got the ear infection in July and tried my first bite of sushi in October. Doubtful on any correlation.
Another reader came from Altavista.com when searching on the phrase “Cat Water Fountain”. Verdict on the cat water fountain device: thumbs up. However, the water does evaporate at a startling rate and it makes weird “chuffing” noises when it gets low on water. I’m terrified that it will burn out somehow, so I’m constanly dumping glasses of water into it. However, the cats no longer beg for drinks of water out of the sink anymore.
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I showed my sister this diary. She laughed when she read the part about how she tailgates “like a mofo”. Then she called me a “dork” because I had a diary. But she was smiling when she said it. This is my payback for calling her only “Loser” whenever I see her.
Now I’m frantically racking my brain to think if I said anything personal about her that she’d be mad about. Amy. You rock. That is all. Remember that if you read anything that ticks you off.
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It occurs to me that I haven’t really written about Amy in here much. Let’s see… here’s a story (no, Amy, not THAT one):
When Amy was 5 years old, she told all of her teachers at school that someone had broken into our home and MURDERED her little brother.
Folks… she didn’t HAVE a little brother. I don’t need to add that no one had broken into our home.
So, when my grandmother (yes, the Mafia Grandma) had gone to school to pick up Amy from kindergarten, a very distraught teacher approached her. “We’ve been waiting to hear news of the tragedy at Amy’s home!” Cause see, they’d been all perplexed wondering why the news of this grisly act had not yet made the papers or the local television news programs.
This is my sister, people. This is what I had to grow up with. And yet when it came down to my mother choosing which one of us to believe in cases of “whodunnit”, she always picked Angelic Amy over Wicked Weetabix.
Sheesh.
And people wonder why I’m so jaded.
Truly, sis, love you to death, but you can lie like the best of them… plus, you DO tailgate like a mofo.
