and isn’t it ironic

i am fairly sure that slim the barista concocted a glorious café au lait for me this morning, but i can’t taste anything past OW – you see, i scalded the roof of my mouth last night, the first really painful time i’ve ever done that.

yes, my barista is named slim! isn’t that wonderful? he’s very very tall and skinny, so i think that makes sense. i was going to introduce him to chad, who came into the city with me today because he has another class to take, but i’m not awake enough to grasp the delicate protocol of these situations. “slim, this is my husband, chad. chad, this is my barista, slim.” it all sounds so naughty in my head, but maybe that’s just my head.

be a dear, won’t you, and write some journal entries for me? i’ve got about three gazillion to catch up on and no time to do it.

i have missed writing here. at first i was filled with a slight sense of dread, thinking about the whole journal and whatnot, mostly the whatnot. now i’m just glad i’m writing again.

we won’t even mention the email replies i owe several people. no, we won’t. that would just be bad.

okay, this was a long enough break. back to work. i may even get around to turning the ‘stedcam on tonight, but that depends on when chad and i get home. don’t expect to see or read much of me before the weekend …

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I acknowledge that I live and work on stolen Cowlitz, Clackamas, Atfalati, and Kalapuya land.
I give respect and reverence to those who came before me.