I met my latest favorite movie this weekend. "The Station Agent", a wonderful story about a man who inherits an old train depot in what he hopes will be the middle of nowhere, and ends up finding out what he's been missing. It's a slow and subtle character study and is filmed in the most wonderful way. I won't spoil it for you by telling you much more about it, but you should rent it...right now...go. You'll thank me.

I could have worked late tonight, in that I had work to do and nothing exceptional going on at home. But I didn't want to. Mostly, because I didn't want to be there with my coworkers. They drive me nuts. Two of them especially. They are too lazy to write something down or look something up so they are constantly bantering back and forth, asking each other questions that they should know the answer to by now. It. Makes. Me. Insane. Not because I think they should have the entire encyclopedia of our job committed to memory, but because they should have a system of finding out the answer on their own. That way they'll have someplace to look it up when they can't find the answer again in a week. 'Cause I guarantee you that will happen.

Also, I'm still in the honeymoon phase of the early shift, so I wanted to take full advantage. I'll be working over "shut-down" while most of the staff has 17 days off, so I don't feel the need to crunch like usually do. (Oh, and they're not getting paid for those 17 days, so I guess I'd rather be working, wouldn't I?)

The Hubband is out mowing the lawn. Apparently, this is the day to do it, since most of the other gentlemen in the neighborhood are out doing it, too. I'm going to be making dinner for the Boy, soon. I've already had dessert. I went to order the Boy's birthday cake and couldn't resist the Jamocha Almond Fudge temptation. I'm thinking of making a makeshift Chicken Parmesean for myself, but I'm not sure the Boy will dig it.

On the other hand, who cares, right?

I owe people emails and snail mails and I have a huge lot of people coming over on the 4th to celebrate the Boy becoming 12. (Gads. How can that be?) I have Altered Books to make for the exhibit in August. (Get me! I'm an artist!) Our group is going to be exhibiting our wares at one of the local libraries. Nothing like that kind of pressure to stop all inkling of creativity. But I want to get back to making time for that. It makes me happy. I need happy, don't you?