Tuesday, Feb. 11, 2003
Dear Diary:

After a few days of taunting us with relatively balmy above freezing temperatures, making spring seem tantalizingly close, the weather gods have again pitched us into the deep freeze and thrown away the key.

Me, any stupidly cold day of the yearWhenever it gets stupidly cold like this, my Inner Squirrel is unleashed and I find myself wanting to jam just about everything in sight into my mouth.

This would be fine if I was an extremely cute hyperactive rodent type creature. Sadly, I am a middle-aged woman who works at home on a computer. My idea of fun is to sprawl on the sofa with a good book and a box of dark chocolate. If I'm feeling terrifically energetic during my times o' fun, I will sprawl on the sofa with a good book and a box of dark chocolate and pet whichever cat is lying next to me.

Yes, I am a Wide Load Sign Waiting To Happen. I spend the winter giving my Inner Squirrel repeated smack downs.

This morning I found myself in front of the freezer. The freezer that still holds the final remnants of my mom-in-law's insanely good home made Christmas cookies. My Inner Squirrel was chittering like mad about how delicious those shortbread cookies are, how the cookie bit just melts into a pool of soft buttery goodness on the tongue.

I told my Inner Squirrel to shut up. "A moment on the lips, forever on the hips," I recited piously.

She ignored me. She rhapsodized about how the little candied cherry in the middle of the cookie gives you a wonderful, sweet, chewy send-off.

"LAH LAH LAH LAH LAH. I CAN'T HEAR YOU," I replied, but of course I could.

I decided to wander into the kitchen to investigate the fridge. There were some clementines, tiny sweet orange balls of citrus-y goodness.

I peeled two and ate the segments slowly, savouring them. My Inner Squirrel was not appeased.

"Well, there's always The Dreaded Soy Protein Beverage," I thought to myself.

Yesterday, when I made it, I used ice water out of the fridge. I forgot to put water in the fridge last night, though, so today it was tap water. I ran the water until it felt cold, dumped the powder in and stirred vigourously.

I took a sip.

It was appalling, kind of like drinking chocolate-flavoured chalk, delicately shaded with a soup�on of slime, only not that tasty. I quickly realized that yesterday it was less disgusting that I expected because the freakin' ice water had numbed my tongue to the true horror of the beverage.

Somehow, I gagged it down.

My Inner Squirrel? That coward left the building after the second swallow.

So now I know how to keep her well and truly smacked down--I'll just threaten her with The Dreaded Soy Protein Beverage.

Hey, a woman's gotta do what a woman's gotta do, eh.

--Marn

Mileage on the Marnometer: 72.61 miles (126 kilometers) Ten percent there rubber duck.
Goal for 2003: 500 miles - 804.5 kilometers

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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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