Today I spent all of my hours at work first preparing for an event I coordinated, and then running around at the event talking, talking, talking for the rest of the day. Fun in many ways but exhausting. It's weird that the part of my job I like the most can zap my energy so much. I got to the point where I didn't even want to hear me anymore, so tonight I'm lounging around like a floppity little mute.

Oh my. I just heard a really funny story from a person I know. I won't mention any names, but she's a relative, and she's about 23 years older than me, and she lives in Klamath Falls. This weekend she was at a movie with her husband and sister and, as much as she claims she was enjoying this action film--yes, ACTION film--she dozed off. Her own snoring woke her up a few minutes later, and she turned to find her sister staring at her in horrified disbelief. This set them both off into a fit of giggles, and my, er, relative had to leave the theater until she could get ahold of herself. My gene pool is riddled with silliness.

In a few days, my family is meeting up in Las Vegas to celebrate Bryn's big 21st birthday, Joe's 30th, and Molly's actual birthday which coincides with our trip. I'm looking forward to seeing everyone, but we have a lot of celebrating to pack into these few short days. It's going to be intense.

Otherwise, not too much new to report. I went to see a line-up of disappointingly boring bands this weekend, but I have Elbow to look forward to when I get back. I'm reading a great vampire romance-ish novel called Sunshine by Robin McKinley, and I'm so completely absorbed in this book. I'm loving it because I'm not usually into fantasy/sci-fi, but this one holds my interest with stream of thought writing that is witty, sarcastic, and suspenseful. All with a subtle forbidden sexual tension. Very juicy. I know I'm going to miss it once I finish. I also read Doris Lessing's The Summer Before the Dark, which was so well-written and disturbingly meaningful, but caused me to feel very closed in while reading, which was the point, I think. On vacation I read the The True and Outstanding Adventures of the Hunt Sisters by Elisabeth Robinson, and I loved it. It's a fast read with so many hilarious moments. The author cleverly lets us get to know the inner workings of the main character through the letters she writes to the various people in her life during a rough yet exhilarating time. You know her, but it's an odd and interesting relationship, because she is never talking to you.

The conversion of my apartment building to condos is moving right along. The owners have decided to spruce up the place a bit by hanging pots of cheesy, plastic, totally fake looking plants on the railings over the courtyard. They're everywhere, and it looks dopey. Do brightly colored fake plants really entice buyers to plunk down 165k+ for a 650 sq. ft. condo? The model I live in is called Paris, which I think is a pretty funny joke. I have to wonder if prospective buyers are also lured in by the romantic name as they look at the drab apartment building next door, or gaze across the very busy street to the construction on the other side, or glance down at the liquor store that is patronized by some very questionable characters at times. The problem is that I love my little apartment on the inside, so I don't like the idea of leaving, but I think I better move sooner rather than later. Next thing you know my decor will include fake flowers, and that's just not right.

I'm off to curl up in bed with Sunshine...