Amnesia

Not saying I’m a bowl of better with 2 percent milk, but atleast I’m half-way readable.

Taken from an old live journal entry in 2004:

The major ‘classic’ networks are guilty of the commercial packed ratings events and it’s sometimes a pain. Especially cause as lackluster as some athletes may be in some events compared to the glory stories, the whole heart and soul of the Olympics, has been the will to try and succeed. I wish they’d show more of those.

WTF. It’s nice to know that as time goes by, you tend to improve in the craft. I’m still trying to figure out why I thought the words, “Especially cause” sounded good together.

Take my recent BSG review:

…Aside from being a wood-inducing notion for most of the male population, it makes a lot of sense in how we see the Admiral evolve throughout the 2 hours. We see the proud warrior progress from a militaristic yet notably human woman, into the very calculating machine she is hell bent on destroying.

That’s better right?

Right?

My Dearest Mother Nature,

As you are well aware, I have been a resident of New England for 30 years, which incidentally happens to be the same amount of time that I’ve been alive. As you may also know, I’ve recently bought a house in my old home town. I must thank you for the lush green grass and beautiful leaves that had adorned the trees upon my first inspection of the property. Honestly, I think your touches at ‘curb appeal’ were quite lovely.

As I signed the stack of paperwork at my closing and handed over every single dime that I had saved in the bank; I folded my hands against the back of my head and leaned back, content. Happy thoughts worthy of fairy dust ran through my brain; ‘I will not have to walk to my front door in the rain. I won’t have to clean off my car. I won’t have to deal with the over-driven Indian Rap music coming through the ceiling. I won’t have to worry about cleaning up someone else’s garbage….’

The list went on and on.

Moving day was stressful but we accomplished alot with the help of some very good friends and family. As I rooted through unnamed and mislabeled boxes trying to get my life sorted out and settled, nothing could bring me down.

Until last Thursday.

Honestly, I still don’t understand why you did it. Did you know that I didn’t have a snow blower? That between the five people now residing at this address we had one shovel between us? That I hadn’t made it to the store in the short time of moving-in to get ice melt? That really, I’m the only physically able person that is adept at snow removal? That I am grossly out of shape?

I can’t remember any December where we would receive 12 inches of snow in a 10 hour period. Yet it took me 2 hours during the storm and two hours after the last snow flake had fallen to clear the driveway and the small path to the door.

I hope you know that I cursed myself with every push and lift of the poorly designed (ergonomically correct, my ass) plastic piece of… ”Oh Kate, there you were thinking to yourself so smug, that you wouldn’t have to clean off your car any longer. Lest we forget you must clean off an entire f’in driveway.”

To make matters worse, as I soaked in a hot bath to soothe my aching back, the news forecasted even more of the fluffy stuff for today. How I long for the days of inaccurate reporting.

So really Mom, I don’t get it. I’ve always been a conscientious person when it came to taking care of you. I pick up all my garbage and reuse things to save on disposal and have always been “green”. I’ve even stuck up for you in light of press reports that you’re getting feeble in your golden years.

It hurts me, (both literally and metaphysically) that you would take out your wrath on such a caring child. The least you could do is raise the temps enough to melt the mess you dumped on my new driveway.

Most Sincerely,

Kate