Yesterday I had one of those experiences that's relatively new to the world: a MIRL (meeting in real life) with someone I've only known from the blogosphere. I met Grafted Branch from Restoring the Years for breakfast at La Madeleine, and our breakfast turned into 3+ hours of sitting and getting to know each other. By the time we got up from our table, everyone around us was having lunch!
We realized a few months ago that we really had met before, sitting next to each other at a ballet performance last year. It took a while for us to put this all together and figure out that not only did we live in the same city, but our "circles" occasionally intersect. Sitting over hours of coffee we discovered several acquaintances in common and that brought us smiles.
For those of you who read GB's blog (and if you don't, you should), she is just as delightful in person as she is on the screen. She is intelligent, thoughtful, and funny and was a lovely breakfast companion. I'm looking forward to meeting her whole family!
After leaving my MIRL, I went shopping for furniture. This time it's home office furniture I'm looking for...something to organize my life and all the paper and supplies that fuel it. Right now I have a mishmash of stuff that isn't working for me. Plus it doesn't look very nice in my fresh, newly-painted room. Alas, my room is also rather strangely shaped and doesn't lend itself to easy solutions, so it's taking me a while to find what I want and decide if will "fit." I came home after several hours having ruled several options OUT, but not yet settling on just the right things. Stay tuned.
Okay, so I don't usually do product reviews. But sometimes I can't resist. A couple of weeks ago while packing to go visit my mother, I forgot to pack my toothbrush. So once there I ran out to the drugstore and grabbed one of the first ones I saw, along with a couple of makeup items, and hurried to the cash register. It was only after I got to the car that I looked at the receipt and realized that I'd paid about twice as much for the toothbrush as I'd expected to and I mentally chastised myself for not paying closer attention and went on back to the house.
But when I opened the clamshell (with wire cutters and a blow-torch, of course...who packages those things??) it was clear that this was no ordinary brush, but a battery-powered contraption. I was so irritated with myself...until I turned it on and put it in my mouth. It took me about five seconds to know that I might never again be able to return to a normal dead toothbrush.
Apparently there's some research about how much better this brush is at removing plaque, stimulating the gums, etc. I don't care. All I know is that when I use this brush it feels like I've just been in to get my teeth cleaned and I love it. You could tell me that it doesn't do as good a job and I still don't think I'd be able to give it up. I'm hooked. No, I'm not crazy about the fact that you can't replace the battery, but then hopefully it will last about as long as I'd use a regular toothbrush anyway. So run right out and get yourself an Oral-B Pulsar. And you can buy 'em in 3-packs. I'm looking to buy 'em by the case.
I'm listening to the unabridged Atlas Shrugged on the iPod. It's another one of those books that I thought I "should" read...but it's SOOOO long and I was sure I'd be bored. NOT. I find myself enthralled by the characters and can hardly wait for the next time I run out of eggs so I can make an unscheduled trip to the grocery store and get another 40 minutes of listening time. At this rate I might be taking it with me to the nursing home, but I'm gonna be a happy old lady. I'll probably finish it the same month Dirk finishes preaching through Genesis.
For the record, my 15-, 17-, and 20-year old daughters are just the best. They're involved in a project that, while I can't detail right now, is evidence of their love for their family and their spirit of joyful cooperation. Girls, you make me proud.
All right, I'm off to print out assignment sheets for tomorrow. Yes, we're finally going to start school.
Unless I have to call a snow day.