2000-10-31
Dear Diary:

If this entry seems even stupider and more disjointed than normal, there's a good reason.

I'm strung out.

Look, I can take it or leave it when it comes to candy.  No.  Really.  I can.  I'm NOT AN ADDICT dammit. I'm hepped up on a potent mix of Smarties and miniature Kit Kat bars.

It may be hours before I come down.

Oh yeah, sure, I told myself I was buying the candy for tonight's trick or treaters, but who was I kidding? We don't get any at our house and Paul's mom has maybe five or six kids stop by over the course of a night.

But I bought a bag of those miniature Kit Kats and a bag of those bitty boxes o' Smarties and left them down at Norma's anyhow.

For the kids, I told her.

Sure it was.

But the second Paul came up from his mother's tonight I was all over him looking for any leftover candy. I had to score. I was jonesin' hard.

And now I'm floating on a happy chocolate-sugar buzz, nodding gently, my dark need satisfied for a new hours.

I'm not the only one to score a little happiness today. The happy ending machine sputtered to life for my kid.

One very, very lucky little kitty. Back on Friday the 13th her kitty Trouble lived up to her name and on this most unlucky of days disappeared. I gave up hope of ever seeing wee Trouble again after a few days, but my daughter and her roomies decided they wouldn't give up until Hallowe'en.

And this morning they got a call from their vet that someone had found Trouble. She wears a special tag on her collar with the vet's number so if she gets lost people have a place to reach out to get the tiny black and white kitty home.

It turns out that somehow Trouble got into a man's home without being noticed just as he was leaving for a vacation. He only just got back. I'm informed she is terribly thin, was very dirty, and won't stop mewing out the story of her ordeal.

But she is basically okay which I find pretty amazing. I hear it will probably be quite a while before she's allowed to roam the streets again with her brother, Drosselmeyer.

He will probably rub it in big time. I used to really rub it in when I could go outside to play and and even cross the street all by myself when my younger sisters couldn't. I know just how Dross feels.

So there you go, eh--a happy ending for my kid AND a major chocolate score for me.

It's been a wonderful day in the neighbourhood.

--Marn

Old Drivel - New Drivel


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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.

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2000, 2001, 2002 Marn. This is me, dagnabbit. You be you.