The Sunday comics were good this week. First, there’s a perfect illustration of my definition of marriage in 9 Chickweed Place. As far as I’m concerned, Edda and Amos already are married; any ceremony they choose to have is gravy. (Given who’s speaking, I’m fairly sure they will choose to have one eventually. But I think they do have a fairly good shot at growing old together.)
And then there’s this in Doonesbury. How to help a woman begin to heal from sexual assult: take her seriously as a very competent human. (Especially in this case, where she was assaulted by a superior officer, ruining her career and depriving her unit of a very skilled mechanic.)
Last night was a bit rough; after I went to bed I realized that it was the first time I’d slept alone at home since we gave the cat away, which means the first night I’ve stayed completely alone at home since about early April of 1989. It’s probably a fairly sad commentary that my initial result was to get up and blog about it to LJ (because there’s more community and commentary there than here). Getting a few comments back did help, and so did putting on a long flannel nightgown. (If you can’t snuggle up to a warm fuzzy, the next best thing is to be one.) I slept extremely well until woken up at 4AM by a mosquito buzzing around.
I brought in brownies this morning, having finally found a mix. A coworker just asked for the recipe. It actually took some time to explain “Buy mix. Add eggs, oil, and water per directions. Bake, also as per directions.” His wife is an excellent cook – I know because he brought in some homemade pickles, much like kim chi – but I think baking is just not a normal part of local cuisine.
And there’s only one problem with the hairstyle I posed yesterday: I leave the house each morning with my hair still wet. I don’t really like putting it up wet; it stays better but doesn’t dry with as much volume, and it’s the softer look I like about the style. It’s mostly dry by the time I get to work, even here, one advantage to fine hair with enough curl to separate itself; maybe one day I’ll bring a ponytail band and a few bobby pins and just put it up at work.