28 November 2006

Stuck In A Moment I Can't Get Out Of

Yes, I'm listening to U2 on iTunes. It's less than a month until Christmas. This time of the year usually means my Christmas doldrums will be arriving soon.

I don't know if they will. I hope not.

Ah, Sinatra... Should I...

Anyway, I finally purchased my Christmas cards.

Hmmm.... Kim's Watermelon Gun...

Yes, I'm providing a running commentary of what's playing. Call it stream of consciousness. Call it a sign that I have no life.

Anyway, back to the cards. Edward Gorey Christmas Cards. I've always been a big fan of Gorey's work.

I usually try to go far the personal, lengthy inscriptions to my friends and family, but my life has been so hectic. Other than book club, I don't have much of a life. Work has kept me busy.

Desperado by Johnny Cash...

So, getting back to the cards... The inscriptions won't be nearly as lengthy as they normally are. Short and sweet. Brevity. The exact opposite of this blog post.

Is that irony or an expression of relief?

Earlier today, I went to Pizza Hut. Today was the last day of study hall for the semester. I bought some pizzas for the students. I figure that with exams going on next week-- some pizza might be good.

Big River. More from the Man in Black.

Anyway, the person at Pizza Hut tried to short me a dollar. She said she counted it, but why would I give her $42 for $32.10 of pizzas. I wanted a ten dollar bill back and gave her $43. She kept insisting she was right. I asked the manager to do a drawer count.

The drawer was $2 over.

Glad to See You Go... The Ramones.

Anyway, I got my dollar back. Not that the dollar really matters, but having worked in a grocery store from the time I was eight years old until I was 23, it's important to keep up with money.

1B from the Appalachian Journey CD....

A recap of the last few days...

I got to see friends. I got to see family. I had some fun. I ate at the Mayflower for the first time ever-- shocking fellow book clubbers, but I don't work in downtown Jackson, so the opportunities are fairly limited for me. For instance, I've lived here for over six years and I still haven't eaten at the Elite or Stamps.

I've got to get the cards ready.

State Trooper. Springsteen.

I may see some of my friends this evening. I'm not sure, but I don't have to be at work until later tomorrow afternoon. I'm working Wednesday night this week.

I'll likely go to at least one high school championship football game this weekend. I've got a dental appointment Monday. Also, final exams begin next week.

I need to get some housekeeping stuff done at the library. Between the semesters is as good a time to do it.

Twin Peaks theme time. The Bookhouse Boys.

I've been invited to some events by family and friends. I'm thinking about going to a basketball game in mid-December. I'm kind of sort of considering attending a North Mississippi Allstars concert at Hal & Mal's, but there might be a timing conflict.

Oliver Galop from one of the Oxford American CDs.

It looks like I'll be busy, and that's good. Being busy is good. I can't get into trouble.

Mannish Boy by Muddy Waters.

I'll have more time to do things though in the spring. I won't be doing any writing for my friends' newspaper since football season will be over. I'm also unlikely to monitor study hall next semester.

What with my cousin dying (obstensibly from a heart attack, but I'm uncertain because I've not heard official word), my mother wants me to join a gym.

At least, she uses that as an excuse. I think she wants more grandchildren.

The Great Circle Route... Bela Fleck...

I'm not good at exercising on my own. When I'm away from work, I like to relax. To veg, if you will. I might decide to go to a gym, but if I do, I'll very likely look for an exercise buddy to help encourage me to keep on going to the gym, so some of my friends might not be surprised to get an email about that sometime.

Ah, Clark Gable by The Postal Service...

The college has health fairs, which I attend regularly. Everything looks good, which is good.

I suppose I should worry though. My father died when he was 78 years old, and I'm 39. I suppose that's a milestone of sorts.

I'm writing too much now. I need to work on some Christmas cards.

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