December 31, 2002
"Do you want to do something special tonight?" the spousal unit asked as he was heading out the door to work.
"Well, I was thinking about trying another meatloaf recipe."
Yep, New Year's Eve and this wild and crazy woman is thinking about cracking into the meatloaf yet again. Is it any wonder that bathrooms from here to Timbuktu are all emblazoned with the words, "For a good time, call Marn."
Most of our friends get together at the little Inn at our village, but neither the spousal unit nor I smoke or care for music at bone rattling volumes, so we're not big fans of the experience. Right now it looks like meatloaf is going to be the pinnacle of the New Year's Eve celebration at my house.
For those of you keeping track, this would be proof #4,381 that I exist solely so that other people can read The Big Adventure and say to themselves, "Oh yeah, bad as things are, At Least I'm Not Marn."
I have decided to set myself one New Year's Resolution, an idea stolen from the one, the only SecraTerri who went 2002 miles in 2002 on her bike.
It strikes me that travelling 2002 miles on a bike is quite an interesting accomplishment. In keeping with my responsibility to my three loyal readers to lead a life completely devoid of interest, I have resolved to travel 500 miles in 2003 without actually moving an inch. Yep, I'm going to try to motor 500 miles on the elliptical machine in my gym.
My motto: 2003--The Year Of 500 Miles To Nowhere.
Or, if you'd prefer, Proof #4,382.
Want to delve into my sordid past?
She's mellllllllllllllting - Wednesday, Feb. 15, 2012 - Back off, Buble - Monday, Dec. 19, 2011 - Dispersed - Monday, Nov. 28, 2011 - Nothing comes for free - Monday, Nov. 21, 2011 - None of her business - Friday, Nov. 04, 2011 -
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This template is a riff on a design by the truly talented Quinn. Because I'm a html 'tard, I got alot of pity coding to modify it from Ms. Kittay, a woman who can make html roll over, beg, and bring her her slippers. The logo goodness comes from the God of Graphics, the Fuhrer of Fonts, the one, the only El Presidente. I smooch you all. The background image is part of a painting called Higher Calling by Carter Goodrich which graced the cover of the Aug. 3, 1998 issue of The New Yorker Magazine. Kids, don't try viewing this at home without Netscape 6 or IE 4.5+, a screen resolution of 800 X 600 and the font Mead Bold firmly ensconced on your hard drive.
©2000, 2001, 2002 Marn. This is me, dagnabbit. You be you.