My shoes are too small.

And last winter I discovered that my ice skates are too small too. They were actually making my feet go numb. Now my big toes are bumping against the fronts of these shoes (some I don't wear too often). So it's not like my feet are fattening up. Either I was dumb enough to buy shoes too small for me or my feet have actually gotten longer.

What am I, 12?

Why didn't I shoot my foot and stay in Honolulu.

At 2:18 a.m. the phone rang. I looked at the caller ID, knowing full well it couldn't be anyone I know. All the people I know have others they would contact first in an emergency. Unless the emergency revolved around them both or involved falling out of bed or maybe a kidnapping (giving or receiving). Or if it were closer to the holidays, Melissa up into the wee hours of the night making cookies and accidentally clocking Chris with a cookie tray and she's too drunk to take him to the hospital herself.

It was no one I knew. So of course I didn't answer. 607 area code, "York, New St" it said. NOT ANSWERING YOU. Person waits through the answering machine message. Hangs up.

Calls again. Leaves a message this time. I hear something that actually sounds like my name. I go listen, slightly intrigued but knowing deep down I will soon be angry. The message: some female looking for Stephanie McLean. DELETE. ANGRY.

About 20 minutes later? AGAIN! Different number, still says something like "York, New State." I answer. YOU HAVE THE WRONG NUMBER, I enunciate. I wait for an apology.

I wait in vain.

A moment later, they hang up.

I wait and M*A*S*H for sleep, about two hours.

'Struth

minuterice (11:16 AM):
is there anything one can't learn about themselves from ealish's amazon wish list?

Yo.

Dawg.

(I just looked up on Google which is used more often in that phrase, "dog"or "dawg." I am now replete with street cred.)

Went home for The Interview, as you will remember from last week's Installment. I think it went pretty well, though I'm not sure HOW well. They asked me some questions that are hard for me to answer, like "How do you handle facts and figures in a proposal?" I think I did well with three out of the four interviewers, at least, and I really liked the director of development communications, whom I met with separately (the fourth of the aforementioned four). I think she'd be great to work with.

NOW I have to write a proposal for them, which is only an issue because I only have till Wednesday, which is only an issue because I lost Saturday to driving and driving recuperation and committed myself to copyediting Communiqué today. Leaving me very little time to do it. But I will begin shortly, and then we'll see what kind of crap I can produce. (Probably the craptastic kind.) Oh, and the Bills play the Pats tonight too. (I'm saving Pass 2 through Communiqué for then.)

Woke up today really not happy to be in Ithaca. Felt a lot better later when I went outside with Rogue for a little bit, before the temperature dropped. I had to begin the day with a trip to Wegmans, which I just hated but ... there it is.

Note to friends who want to keep me here: FIND ME MY MR. RIGHT. That's really the only way to cement this thing, and even then ... well. Having him doesn't fix spending time with my parents while they're still healthy, and that's one of the top things this whole shebang comes down to.

So, in conclusion: I think it would be great to work for UB. Whether or not this will be the right time or right job, if they even offer it to me, well. Good question.

And here I am.

Busy times these have been, in their way. Are you sitting down? Yes, I did it: I met two guys from Match. Not at the same time. Though I'd kinda like to see that. Both nice guys; neither really doing anything for me. In Chair Number 1 we had Rich, who built his own house and does welding jobs and bartending--so he can avoid paying taxes because he doesn't want to support the war. Also a little bit of a survivalist streak in our bachelor Rich. Nice enough guy; not bringing him home to Mom and Dad.

In Chair Number 2 we had David. Also nice enough, but in a friend-of-a-friend sort of way. Rents from his sister, works in mental health, wants his own practice. Likes showshoeing.

So, look at me, I'm officially out there. Wahoooooo.

In other news, I've got an interview at UB Friday. Same job I have now. So far it looks to be all the parts of my job that I hate most without the parts that I like. I could be wrong. I'm ready to be wrong about it. Plus side: a university that actually NEEDS the money, and a job at home. (Just when things feel more homey here in Ithaca.)

Mostly I just want a blouse that fits right for Friday.

Gotta go do stuff now. Miss you! Have a walnut.

Oh there you are.

Do I have anything to say? Has anything happened? The time changed. I'm very tired. Combo of my period and the aforementioned time change. And the fact that I have so much organizing and stuff to do in my apartment that I never seem to be able to rest. Oh and I also have about a hundred boyfriends now. In fact I'm IMing one AS WE SPEAK. You and me. This. What we're doing here. What I'm doing right now. OK fine it's JUST ME JUST LIKE EVERYTHING IN MY LIFE FINE! YOU'RE NEVER HERE!

There are three cats in the room. I hear another one making his noises. Bliss has been elusive. Four cats piled up on me Sunday morning, but she was elsewhere. Not on the Pile of Cozy Treats of Warmness. Crazy desert cat.

OK I just mentioned King Features to Michael. QUESTION: WILL I HAVE TO EXPLAIN IT? Of course I can just go to the Web site and send that along. I have to pee. I want to go to bed.

His response: "As in Popeye? Doing what?" Holy smokes, he knows Popeye belongs to King?!

When you don't have an icon of your own up there yet, Yahoo! Messenger has this silhouette placeholder there that looks like Peter Brady. I find this both comforting and disturbing.

Well, enough for you and me right now. Write when you can. Call when you get work. Say hi to the folks. Matt! Rollins?

Love,
Cree