Just wanted to let you know that I’m very very alive and kicking. Only not on this blog right now. After two weeks away suddenly there are tons of people who actually want to see us and so my weekends just get sucked up and go god-knows-where. I’m not even sure I had one though I have vague memories of sleeping in.

Anyway, that’s how it is now. I hope it will get better, but I can’t say when.

• So, there’s this fly in my room and it’s absolutely in love with me. It keeps coming back no matter how hard I try to swoosh it away.
• So, is swoosh an actual word? And if so, did I use it in the right context?
• The maniacs are shutting down the warm water and heat for two full days in our house. What is this, summer? Okay, it’s not even cold, but I really like the heat on these days.
• Why do I try to be good when I play Black & White 2? It seems to take all the mad fun out of the game.
• I sent Andreas two Agnes comics to which he replied (and I quote): I hate comics about us.
• This fly is driving me nuts.
• I have no idea how I survived this long without an iPod.
• If you still don’t watch Veronica Mars and it’s not because you don’t have a TV (good excuse, Caitlin), then I can’t help you anymore.
• So, Natascha hasn’t heard of the Princess Bride, which means that I’m officially off the shame-on-you-hook. If she doesn’t know it, how could I? I mean, she’s the one who watched „Princess Fantaghiro“ and that other princess-themed fantasy mini series like a thousand times. I’m not.
• Natascha has a job as a therapist specializing in neuro-psychology now. She has her own big office with a freaking balcony. I share my tiny office at my (momentarily) crappy job with someone who hates the Muppets. What’s that supposed to tell me?
• What does the fly want in my hair?
• Then again, I spent three years perfectioning the art of entertaining myself and she spent five years studying her ass off, so maybe sometimes you really get what you give.
• I really want to tell you all about our trip, but I’m still cranky that I have to go back to work, and I have to catch up on my TV, and I have a large pile of books to read, and I have Black and White 2 to play and my iPod to update. I’m a hell of busy woman.
• My hair is all frizzy.
• Good night.

How bad is it that I really love Avril Lavigne’s ‚Let Go‘?
It’s so teen, so mainstream, so… old. (I just realized that it was released in 2002, that’s friggin‘ three years ago.)

It totally fits into the corner of my mind where I can’t help but love Christina Aguilera, Natasha Bedingfield, Pink and – god help me – that one and the other Britney Spears song. But most of all: Avril Lavigne.

The good thing about my husband and me is that we rarely ever fight. The bad thing is that we tend to have arguments over the most unimportant things. Like marmelade.

A few weeks ago my mother brought me two jars of my very favorite marmelade, the one that I have yet to find in a grocery store, because the world has yet to realize that jostaberries exist, and so I’m completely depending on my mother making me some. So, two jars. Two friggin‘ jars for a whole year.

The strange girl that I am I develop strange habits when it comes to food I really like. In other words: I’m the josta marmelade’s best security guard, trying my best to make it last for as long as I can.

That led to this morning’s argument, when I found my husband carelessly spreading my precious marmelade over his bread and realized the second jar was nearly half empty.

Me: „What are you doing?“
The Husband: „What?“
Me: „You’re wasting the josta marmelade.“
The Husband: „I’m not wasting it, I’m eating it.“
Me: „That’s our last jar, look how much is already gone.“
The Husband (smelling the marmelade): „That’s not even josta marmelade, that’s currant.“
Me, I’m going to the fridge, opening the door and studying the contents very carefully. There’s only one other jar of marmelade in there and it’s already opened, so I take it out and smell it. Strangely enough it smells like tomato sauce.
Me: „Of course that’s josta. This one smells like tomato sauce, so it’s gotta be from your mother. My mom washes the jars more throughly.“
Then I smell the jar of the supposedly not josta marmelade and it smells like A-1 not-to-be-wasted josta marmelade. Ha! I knew it.
Me: „You know the bad thing is that if you don’t even think that you’re eating josta marmelade you can’t give it the respect it should get. When I eat it I think ‚Mmmmmmmh, josta marmelade!‘ all the time. You, you think ‚Oh, black currant‘.“

There has been no resolution to this argument other than I was right and my husband doesn’t get the importance of how to treat the josta marmelade. But I do.

Happy Blogaversary to me!

Now you can congratulate me. And there’s a link to my wishlist on the right. Don’t be shy.

This is so totally a conversation between Andreas and me that I can’t believe it can be protected by copyright, at least not against me. I should be filing a lawsuit or something, because I think Tony Cochran’s eavesdropped on us.

© Tony Cochran, a long time ago until forever

I added the next six pictures at flickr. Once I am done complaining about my job I will find some time to actually write about it.

Wow, Charmed’s season eight started off with two terrificly horrible episodes. Why, for anybody’s sake, am I still watching this? Why can’t I stop?

And, who the hell is Kaley Cuoco? And why do I have to watch her, too? And what’s with her lips? And the ridiculous tries to make this show seem like Buffy or something?

And how do you pronounce Cuoco?

In a not so very unlikely case these will be the questions not letting me fall asleep tonight.

I am very good at reading maps. I’m like… a map-reading genius.

I am not so good at giving directions, though:

Me: „Okay, now you have to go there!“ (pointing in one direction)
The Husband (reasonably focused on the traffic): „Where?“
Me: „There. THERE!“ (hectic arm movements towards said direction)
The Husband (reasonably getting nervous): „What? Where? Left?“
Me (hesitating, contemplating where left is aka The Hand I Don’t Write With): „Yes, go left. NOW!“

I am quite smart, but I will never figure out that left/right thing.

Demonstrate I was
raised from the start
By a priest and
the maid on the part.
Still I know what
to wear on my back:
Michigan!
Ponshewaing!
Cadillac!

Say Yes! To M!ch!gan! – Sufjan Stevens