I haven't had a chance in the past couple of days to do my usual perusal of pretty much every NOLA blog known to man, but in light of the news that's come out over the past few days, I'm willing to make a wager right now that the phrase "Shanghai surprise" is making the circuit. Time will tell when I have a chance to surf. I'm also willing to go out on a big limb here and predict that people in New Orleans are not exactly broken up over the fact that our mayor is being quarantined in China. How could our city government get any worse? I, for one, will not be pining for C. Ray's return.
As I said in a FB posting, I am so officially old now. Yes, I will be FORTY in 20 days (technically, 19 days and two hours, but who's counting?). For the most part, I feel okay about this whole aging thing. Would I like to go back and be 17 for a couple of days? God, yes. But it's okay--I've had 15 years to get used to gray hair (thank you, Ms. Clairol) and all of the other joys that go along with aging. But the thing that still kinda disturbs me and makes me realize that I really am officially middle-aged now (other than the screaming at children to get off my lawn) is the fact that I'm so out of the Top 40, Entertainment Tonight loop that it's not even funny. Who in the hell is Shia LaBouef? I see his name all over the place now. I have no idea of who he is, and I don't care--I'm not even willing to google it and find out who this guy that all of the teeny-boppers are swooning over is. Did I mention that everyone should get off my lawn?
In celebration of the fact that my daughter finally, at the ripe old age of four years old, is completely potty-trained (yes, she was a bit slow in that aspect--trust me, you don't want details), we got her a cat recently from the shelter. They didn't have any teeny tiny kittens, so we got her an 11-month-old cat. I have to say, the cat is cool as hell. He's put up with about as much getting yanked on by the tail and carried around by his neck that any cat should have to put up with. So far, E has a love-hate relationship with him. She loves him when he lets her carry him around by the neck and hates him when he tells her he's had just about enough of her carrying him around by the neck and retaliates with teeth and claws. Anyway, his given name, from the shelter, is Peychaud. Emmeline informed me tonight that his full name is Peychaud Bunny Kitty Seal Sweetie-Pie. What do you think we should shorten that to?
Continuing on with the oddities of my daughter (since I'm the mother of a four-year-old and also work full-time and therefore have very little life outside of the two), Emmeline also informed me that she's going to marry Casper the friendly ghost when she grows up. At that time, her name will become "Casper Girl," and she and Casper will have a daughter that they'll name "Spanish."
And speaking of work, I finally moved into my new office. Woo hoo! Have I mentioned that it has a door? And a window? And a fancy new computer? And a really cool new desk chair? (And a raging leak from the roof above, since I'm on the top floor of the building, but that's a minor quibble. I'll buy a mop.) Movin' on up!