I am torn.
To write. Or not to write.
This happened last year too.
What to do? What to do?

50,000 words in 30 days.
Can it be done?
Yes it can. I know. I did it year one.
But then I crapped out last year.
I went about 1/3 of the way and just said fuck it.

Nearing the end of November 2005, I add this little postscript --
Why can't it be called NaPeSeWriMo (National Perfect Sentence Writing Month)
I'm quite confident that I've written several perfect sentences not only this month but on many other occasions as well.



I just ordered a new book. I love ordering books. Sometimes I have to have a book. I need it. This doesn't mean I'll ever get around to reading it but I still need it. Okay, need, want, it can get pretty confusing, whatever.

There are books however that I know right away I will both need and read. They're those memoir type books that are so popular right now. You know the I survived a crap childhood type of books.

I don't know why but I simply must have them. I generally go around hating everyone on earth but something about all these tiny survivor stories makes me feel like maybe my heart isn't two sizes too small.

I'm always looking for me in them. Oh no! Dale! Are you a tiny survivor too? Well, we all have our own childhood things to sort out don't we?

Although I would say that I've at least evolved out of the trailer park, I still find that every now and then I like to strum a banjo. There's just something down right soothin' about the wind whistling through your tooth while your pickin' finger plucks out a gentle refrain.


Throwing A Fit

As if my post smoking weight gain isn't enough to defeat my feelings of general superiority, yet another indignity confronts me while I pull on my pants.

Not much fits without straining at the seams lately. It seems that a mere 10, 12 or 20 pounds really do make a difference.

I choose my navy Nautica khakis. They're cut a little bigger which interestingly makes me feel a little less elephantine. They move. They breathe. And as I pull them up, it's gonna be a sunshine day after all!

I glance down as they come up and a little tag on the inside of the waist band commands my attention. Never noticed that before. What does it say in the tiny print? Squinting: 'Relax Fit'.

Not relaxed fit but Relax Fit. It's not like there wasn't room for the whole huge word 'Relaxed' on that tag. My pants are now taunting me:

Relax!Fit? No, you're fat.
Relax fatso, these'll fit. Relax!

I finish hoisting them up, fasten all the pullies and trusses around me to keep them in place. I hold my breath and make a plan.

Walk, that's what I'll do! I'm gonna walk and I'm not gonna stop until it's all gone. If it takes days, I'm gonna...Hey! What's this? A package of homemade fudge sent by mail from good old Mom? I almost forgive you for everything!!

After I eat this one little pound and a half of fudge, it's walking for me and nothing but! I'm just gonna...Relax.


Too Tired To Just Say No

Free sample products thrust at me as I exited Union Station today on my way to work:

Small box of Fibre 1 cereal - right on the box it says VERY HIGH FIBRE - consider petitioning company to rename to Colon Blow.

Small container of Cottage Cheese with real Fruit in the Bottom! - that says it all doesn't it? Clotty white gunk with fruit on the bottom. Mmm, I'm hot for that.

Gave both items to perky new girl Jessica at work. She's game. Will monitor.