ChgoRed, Girl Editor

Your Moment of Zen

I read this news story last week and instantly fell in love with the first paragraph.

Pigeons that fluttered through a hole in the ceiling of a Spanish cathedral led a restoration team to a Renaissance fresco of winged angels hidden by a false ceiling for more than 300 years.

Gorgeous. Just picture it...the shady cool of a Spanish cathedral on a hot day, the quiet murmurs of the restoration team at work, dust motes rising on shafts of light...and from nowhere, wings.

The rest of the story is here.

Tattoo... or 3... or 4...

The Boyfriend had one of his close-the-store shifts last night, which meant I was left to my own devices for the evening. It also means I get to watch whatever I want on television. Last night's highlight: a show on the history of tattoos. And it got me to thinking--

Daddy-O

I care enough to send the very best…which is exactly my problem. I am officially no good with greeting cards. This is partially because I put way too much emotional stock into a folded piece of paper--a trait I inherited from my mother. Also, my family is a bit non-traditional. Divorced parents, yes, but my sister and I were raised by my father. This means Mother's Day cards are an emotional minefield. With all the advances in greeting card technology, they've yet to come up with one that adequately expresses: "Thanks for always being there, except for all those times when you couldn’t, but which I’ve pretty much forgiven you for, so no hard feelings..."

Mitzvah

I owe the universe a solid, and am not quite sure how to pay it back.

The Drinking Thing, Part II

You guys are too much. I write a little blog posting and I get rewarded with the nicest, friendliest responses. As if you all would do any less.

So, thank you. Very much. Thanks for the sympathy and the helpful tips. (It will be years, if ever, before I use the “I’m pregnant” excuse, but I will keep it in mind.) Thanks also for the kind concern. And no, Amy, you didn’t do a thing wrong. We remember New Year’s Eve the same way, so no worries there.

Thanks also to John. You've given me the nerve to write more about it. And you're right--it is enough all by itself. Hang in there.

Shop Talk

As soon as I finished work today, I did two things. I took a cab home (a $20 luxury I usually reserve for when I need to feel spoiled) and went straight into a hot bath (also a bad day/feeling yucky mental balm).

Why two treats? Because I had to deal with exchanges like this.

Analyst: …and the last part of that sentence that I asked you to delete? It still needs to be taken out.
Me: Actually, you asked me to turn it into a separate sentence.
Analyst: Well, I meant for you to take it out.

All day, people. Meet the woman we will call Ms. P., an object lesson in How Not to Treat Your Editor.

Sometimes They Take the Great Ones

Grammy-Winning Crooner Ray Charles Dies

"Music's been around a long time, and there's going to be music long after Ray Charles is dead," he told the Washington Post in 1983. "I just want to make my mark, leave something musically good behind. If it's a big record, that's the frosting on the cake, but music's the main meal."

He left us a banquet. R.I.P. Mr. Charles.

Two For Wednesday

1. Doug over at Planet Gordon.com reaffirms his smarts with the very funny "Taylor-Lopez Coincidence?", documenting the eerie connections between the two celebrities. Expect to see this one splashed all over the 'net.

2. The trailer for "Fahrenheit 9/11" is up. Awesome. And thanks to Yosha for pointing it out.

Shacking Up

How tough was the move? About 15 bruises worth.

To be fair, I bruise easily. And I had help, so I can’t really complain. I still managed to bang my legs up enough that I can’t wear shorts lest someone think I need an intervention. The most important part is that the stressful crap--finding a place and getting all my stuff there--is done.