Hey all! I know that some of you really depend on this blog to get you through your monotonous jobs or to break up your weekend or generally to keep you entertained during times of desperate boredom, and that I've let you down by not writing very often. While I'd like to promise you I'll write more, the fact is that I probably won't. If anything, the frequency might go down as the holidays approach. On the other hand, Chris has been in Alabama since November second for work and will return there after Thanksgiving for some undefined amount of time, leaving me with hours of uninterrupted time at home after work, so we'll see.
Yes, that's right, Chris is in the South. He's being treated to all the fried-food buffets and right wing politics he can handle! Actually, he's moved on from Alabama and is now in Florida, staying in a beach side hotel and eating sea food. That's how I like to think of it. The reality of the situation is that he is working 70+ hours a week and coming home to watch hotel cable. I want him home. I want him home with me right now.
In other news, last night, a couple friends and I went to Hot Pants, an old-school music dance party which used to be in a legitimate bar but has since been relegated to abandoned warehouses and other venues. Last night, it was in a gutted building with a semi-working bathroom, no heat, no liquor license(obviously) but a table with beer for sale, and no cover charge. In the third level of the building, there was apparently some kind of 'water puppet show'. What does that mean? I honestly don't know. Wet hand puppets? A tank of water with weighted marionettes? I could continue to speculate but the images that come to mind when hearing 'water puppet show' are too vast and strange for this blog. Anyway, it was one of those nights that starts somewhere relatively sane (Dulono's pizza, in this instance) and ends up in an unheated basement, dancing in your winter jacket to funk and soul while an aquatic puppet show happens two stories above you. You know how it is...right?
So...Alison and I left the party to find that Minneapolis had been coated in a sheer layer of ice. I promptly fell on my face. We ice skated to the car--I required assistance from a large, possibly drunk guy getting up the slight hill, thanks to the slippery soles of my new suede boots--and made our way home through a parking lot of a highway, complete with 15 cars blinking their hazards on the shoulder. It took an hour to drive the 1.5 miles. Alison was a crafty and able navigator. I've rarely been so happy to be in my little, toasty-warm basement apartment.
Alright, that's it from me for a while. I will try to write more. I really will.
xoxo
