just random things...

*just a random picture for a random post. Rain caught in a spider web in San Diego.



my computer always makes empty threats like: "DON'T EVER pull that flash drive out without telling me first. I SWEAR I will ruin it, I will mangle it, and then I will follow up with an honorable suicide- Seppuku. Et TU Kara?"
I don't believe it. After years of clicking the little green icon and waiting for permission, I have just started pulling it out indiscriminately. Mac doesn't seem to mind all the time, being the more practical sort.

Why do keyboard makers put the caps lock in the position that my pinky frequents? I will be happily typing and then suddenly I AM YELLING ALL OVER THE PAGE.
I hate you, QWERTY. I want Dvorak.

possible public service announcement:
I despise words that don't exist, or rather, the user of them. Shakespeare got away with it, and actually commands my undying love and respect. You using the word funnest, however, makes me want to gag.
It slipped out the other day.
Granted, I was definitely doing a silly voice with the hubby (he not only puts up with this, he participates). When it came out, like excrement from a pristine mouth, I think I heard him gasp. HE gasped- the master of typos, the one who not only spells every word wrong, but ACTUALLY DOESN'T CARE to edit emails, or resumes, or other things with words on them! (He does not speak that poorly, of course, seeing as I would not have marrie....ok ok, this is going too far: I love him, word-mauler and all.)

Don't tell me you read my blog, because it kind of weirds me out. I will wonder: "does it make me more endearing...do they like me more? Or maybe less...yes, I confess so much that they certainly have an inward disdain for me now!"
I always want to keep this pure, as a true journal: a heavily thought-over, pondered, edited, and publicly acceptable journal.
(Every time I have tried to write a real under-the-bed journal, this is inevitably what it becomes, just in case I become an icon and my children sell my journals to the Smithsonian.)
Anyway, I would prefer not knowing you read my blog. Except for comments... comments are heartily encouraged and appreciated. In person, it is strange, though. Actually, I'd kind of like to know in person too, but you should slip it into the conversation slyly, as if it were an accident. Yeah, slip it in as if my blog is your secret hobby, the thing you do at night when the rest of your household is asleep. You could say something like: "Wow, you are really much more interesting on your blog than in real life!" (true? possibly.)
Ok, so you should let me know if you read my blog. This way I can specifically think about each reader (all fit on my fingers) and edit entries accordingly.
Haha.

I'm going to write something real soon.