1. a Christmas package to send to a friend in Germany I think she’s really going to like.
2. homemade Paul Deen cream biscuits to go with leftover apple bacon tomato soup
3. Wendell Berry’s Jayber Crow
4. my first issue of OK!, a subscription from my mom for my birthday (I know. I’m a monster.)
5. shortened work week
6. seeing all my lovelies starting Wednesday night, when Beca and Thomas pick us up at the Tallahassee airport
7. birthday cake
8. turkey, at least twice, possibly thrice if you count the growth group potluck tomorrow night
9. not wearing tights under my jeans for one glorious half-week
10. a pretty perfect new apartment? (but moving, urgh…)
So, apparently I put my parking meter money in the wrong machine, and got rewarded with a $10 parking ticket.
There goes half of next week’s allowance, I suppose.
“I Can’t Make You Love Me” by Bonnie Raitt
A real go-to track on Tallahassee’s 98.9 The Breeze, if I remember correctly from my childhood. This fire-haired, veteran songstress had one thing down besides that mystifying mane of hers, it was that adult-contemporary goodness. I guess I ought to go ahead and admit you might not dig this one if you didn’t attend elementary school during the mid to late 1990s or weren’t born before Vanilla Ice.
[Yes, I did end up texting former features editor Jason Yurgartis in a panic after choosing too damn particular of a theme and finding myself with little proving appropriate in my repertoire. I suck. I just thought maybe Katt/Kackie might get a kick out of the shitty station reference.]
I can’t make your heart feel something it woooooooooon’t!
Just applied for a job that makes even less than my current gig…
So, after just reading Slam, Nick Hornby’s first YA offering, I was once again reminded of the Hornby short story that helps sustain my love for the author even when what I’ve just read of his is only meh (How To Be Good, anyway?). I was trying to explain it to John, and bewailing that I might never be able to force it onto him, since I gave away my copy of Speaking with the Angel.
And then, lo and behold, a quick google search for Hornby’s story from that collection, “Nipple Jesus” brought up a whole scanned copy. You can read it here, though buying your own copy of the book might be good, as the proceeds benefit autism charities, I seem to remember.
The story just reminds me so much of Flannery O’Connor, recreated for the twenty-first century (note for Caitlin and others: profanity to match). It’s a normal guy who encounters the beauty and ugliness of faith. There are no easy answers. And it’s lovely.
So read it!
“There wasn’t going to be any more Juliet, and now there is going to be more Juliet. That’s all I can say,” the affable actress says with a sigh. “I wish I could say more. I don’t really like to be so close-lipped, but it kind of just goes with the show.”
Does it ever. Lost is one of the most secretive shows on television, driving viewers and critics mad with convoluted plotlines, unexplained supernatural elements and, now, a newly instated promotional blackout, according to Mitchell.
“They’ve actually decided they’re not going to show any previews at all (for the sixth and final season). … It’s going to be a complete blackout. They’re not going to have any leaks or teasers. It’s just their new idea.”” —LOST update, USA Today