Me, pre-dinner: 126.2 pounds
Me, post-dinner: 128.6 pounds
Dinner: 2.4 pounds

And I only had one plateful. Half of the weight is probably ginger ale, but still. Nom nom nom.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

November will be a busy month.

To start with (of course I have my priorities in order), we have four taiko performances in November. The Woodlands, College Station, New Orleans, and Alexandria, LA. For the non-Houstonians, I’ll note that The Woodlands is the only one of those in the Houston area, and even that’s fudging a little. We’ll be spending a lot of time on the bus, is what I’m saying. The aging, decrepit bus. I hope it holds up. If it doesn’t … well, I hope it holds up.

We usually have our intensive practices on Sundays, but now that we’ll be performing every weekend, we’ll have to spend more weeknights practicing. Practice-show-practice-show-practice-show. It would be a bit stressful if I didn’t love it so much. Instead it’s exhilarating. Plus who doesn’t love road trips? Every trip, I’m reminded of how much taiko is like quiz bowl or math club. My friends are just a different kind of weird than they used to be, that’s all.

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Before I talk about work I’d like to share a quick story from today’s evening walk. The story is that a bird pooped on Sam’s head. Better him than me, I thought, since he didn’t notice and probably would have enjoyed it if he did. But then at home when I tried to wipe off the mess with a wet paper towel, he ducked and I got poop on my hand. So I didn’t escape unscathed after all. It figures.

Okay, work. I’m still thrilled to be there, even though I emptied my candy jar in the first two days. I’ve had to bring in and eat *fruit*, can you imagine? I finished my first practice assignment in cite analysis today and will probably get to start on a real assignment tomorrow, assuming I didn’t completely miss the boat on the practice one.

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1. Wikipedia has a category titled “Fictional chameleons and geckos.” There are four; dollars to donuts you can’t name any of the other three. And no, Karma Chameleon didn’t make the cut.

2. Yesterday I passed a Schepps-branded eighteen-wheeler on the freeway. Is there a widely recognized trucker signal for “A steady stream of milk is pouring out the back of your trailer”? I couldn’t think of one, so I drove on. It was milk, after all, not jet fuel, and even if he did find out I don’t imagine there was much he could’ve done at that point.

3. Have you seen the “Caves” segment of Planet Earth? Those people who base-jump hundreds of meters into underground caves are insane. See also, underwater cave divers.

4. Chocolate smoothie with fresh banana? Darn tasty.

School’s back in session, which means I’m seeing a lot less of my boyfriend and getting a lot more free food. I’d rather have John around, to be sure, but the food is some consolation. Did I mention that it’s free?

It’s not even the freeness that I love the most—it’s the not having to prepare it or choose it or think about it myself. I just show up at the announced time and place, and I will be fed. The food is almost always tastier and higher-quality than I would have prepared myself, but even when it’s not, who cares? I put zero effort into its creation.

Having food prepared for me comes in at the basic level of what I consider luxury. If I were ludicrously wealthy, I think I would still want to drive my own car, walk my own dog (except maybe first thing in the morning), and buy my own clothes, but I would hire a personal chef the first chance I got. (Second would be someone to do my laundry and, by extension, sort and put away all the still-clean clothes I throw on the floor.)

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The last two days straight were a flurry of eight-to-three non-stop activity, or at least non-stop sitting around in public, which takes almost as much energy.

Today the highlight of my day was taking a three-hour nap and still making it to Kroger before the free coffee and cookies (and bread and cheese and peaches and cinnamon pastries and blue corn chips) ran out. Ahhh.

I slept right through the quadruple extraction, which ended up taking only thirty minutes. John came in and sat with me in the recovery room for twenty minutes, of which I remember about two. Apparently I was pretty goofy, which really makes me mad I forgot my video camera. I was totally planning to post a video like this one.

John says I lamented not bringing my camera several times, and I also repeatedly stuck my fingers up my nose while mumbling something incoherent through my gauze. He only later realized that I’d been trying to tell him I’d had a nasal cannula.

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