A short list of unrelated things...
Dec. 17th, 2010 09:07 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
msfledermausI've been wrapping presents. Wrapping, wrapping, wrapping. Getting the tape stuck. In my hair. Meh.
I have not wrapped the Bunneh in wrapping paper yet, though I may make him a small Tyrant Hat just for kicks. His birthday's coming up, you see--he'll be 3 years old. I'll have to find him some small acceptable present, like a wee cardboard box with raisins in it, all for him. And a small trebuchet for chucking small hay bales at people. He'd like that, I think...
For that matter, my birthday's coming up too. I'll be 40. Humbling thought, huh? At least I've got lots of friends who've been there, done that, and assured me that forty is really not as scary as people make it out to be. I mean, sure, there's body parts rebelling,and occasionally blurting out things like, "Durn kids today, with their hair and their butt-less pants! Put on some durn pants!" There's thoughts of mortality. There's thoughts like, "Have I lived up to my full potential as a woman/professional whatever/artist/friend/relative/taxpayer/rabbit-wrangler". There's the occasional unwelcome, coarse hair on the chin that you never remember seeing before, and dear gods, how could it have grown so long without me noticing? There's the occasional unsettling out-of-body experience...but when I start getting anxious about it all and meebling about getting a will and what's up with my cranky joints, I remind myself of the handful of loved ones who never made it this far. Some of them are now officially dead longer than they've been alive. I think about the alternative, and feel much more grateful...
And speaking of body parts, I've got a tooth pestering me a little. Right before the holidays, even. I should just replace all of them with scary titanium implants, just because. Arrgh...
I'm off to go comb the Wee Orca--it's the middle of winter, and he's power-shedding again. Time to make with the brush again. Brush brush brush...
I have not wrapped the Bunneh in wrapping paper yet, though I may make him a small Tyrant Hat just for kicks. His birthday's coming up, you see--he'll be 3 years old. I'll have to find him some small acceptable present, like a wee cardboard box with raisins in it, all for him. And a small trebuchet for chucking small hay bales at people. He'd like that, I think...
For that matter, my birthday's coming up too. I'll be 40. Humbling thought, huh? At least I've got lots of friends who've been there, done that, and assured me that forty is really not as scary as people make it out to be. I mean, sure, there's body parts rebelling,and occasionally blurting out things like, "Durn kids today, with their hair and their butt-less pants! Put on some durn pants!" There's thoughts of mortality. There's thoughts like, "Have I lived up to my full potential as a woman/professional whatever/artist/friend/relative/taxpayer/rabbit-wrangler". There's the occasional unwelcome, coarse hair on the chin that you never remember seeing before, and dear gods, how could it have grown so long without me noticing? There's the occasional unsettling out-of-body experience...but when I start getting anxious about it all and meebling about getting a will and what's up with my cranky joints, I remind myself of the handful of loved ones who never made it this far. Some of them are now officially dead longer than they've been alive. I think about the alternative, and feel much more grateful...
And speaking of body parts, I've got a tooth pestering me a little. Right before the holidays, even. I should just replace all of them with scary titanium implants, just because. Arrgh...
I'm off to go comb the Wee Orca--it's the middle of winter, and he's power-shedding again. Time to make with the brush again. Brush brush brush...
