Friday, December 01, 2006

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Anger As a Positive Emotion


Here's the parrot illustration I did for the "Delaware authors".

Today is my birthday. I have to write later because Moon kitten just let me know he wants me.

Later...I mostly cleaned today because we have friends visiting tomorrow and Sunday, plus I like when the house is clean. When I don't clean, it gets to be too big a job and daunting. I had the little robot going and I learned how to clean it. It did a decent job and my hope is to leave the Family Room to the robot. I also put together the cuckoo clock with Harry's help. Moon Kitten thinks it's a bird teasing him. He sat there staring at the clock just waiting for that little bird to come out again.

For the time being, the house is virtually finished. We need to replace our quilt and I want to make some orange curtains for my office. Also a little screen for the kitty litter in the sun room. (They need privacy, right?)

We went to Deep Blue which was rumoured to be a fancy restaurant. My food was very good but the restaurant had problems. It was big, too well-lit, with no atmosphere. Service was in high gear--meaning too fast. No sooner had we ordered soup than it was there. I loathe restaurants where the clean-up staff circle the room like vultures waiting, watching diners for the fork to go down for twenty whole seconds. I don't understand why a restaurant would set that up unless they're trying for speed dining, which this seemed to be. I was very disappointed.

Tomorrow my son is taking me out to buy a robe for my birthday. He's a very sweet boy. Too sensitive I guess. Can't imagine where he got that. Ugh. I still am hurt by the three people I used to talk with at work--who I didn't especially like--didn't call me after I retired. What is that? I would much rather watch television or cut my toenails than talk with them. They were the only people at work with whom I shared any interests. (The others discussed Politics--they were the bottom layer; making money--anything goes; and anti-gay; anti-feminist; anti-education; anti-semitism and last, but not least, anti-black conversations were the rule.) Since I was a weirdo, I talked with the other outcasts, and since we were friendly only because there was nobody else to be friendly with, they didn't really like me either. They would never call me. This was a rant, brought to you by some cranky patch I'm experiencing today and yesterday. I haven't changed my medication and I can't see any reason why I'm looking for a fight. All I can think of is I'm growing; I'm able to allow more negativity to surface. That's a good thing. So since I'm now recognizing my nastiness as a positive event, I guess it's time for nasty pictures of the creepy people I worked with. Or maybe their stories in fictional form. I hope I can remember to do it.

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