Grab bag

So every single day that I've been in the car since pitching a fit about Grease, a song from the Grease soundtrack has come on the radio. And here's what I think about that: Olivia Newton John could sang. Moving on...

I don't know why I continue to be horrified weekly by The Bachelorette. It's like I forget from week to week what the show is even about. And still last night as I watched the playback, I heard myself saying things like, "What is wrong with you people?" and then, like, pleading for at least one, yea verily, even ONE to find some dignity. But no one did. And yet, I leave it on my DVR.

It's gray outside today. I don't know know why I love it, but I do. So much.

I ate bacon last night. It's a rare treat and it made me so happy.

I had pumpkin ravioli with shaved Lorna Doone cookies on top the night before htat. I couldn't get enough of the crunch. Who'd a thunk?

One time, I was like, I'll never put my girl in frou-frou ballerina skirts and giant bows. And I am SO that mom now. I love it. I call her princess. It is terrible. I will not be stopping.

I am already counting down to the delicious dinner I will make for Saturday night. I love food. Also, I am gaining weight again. But at least it comes from honest-to-goodness delight in food and not emotional eating. Unless you count the thing where I get a piece of chocolate as a reward for even the most minimal exertion. Which I don't.

I have made a goal that at the very least I will sweep my kitchen floor every night. It just seems like something normal people do.

Did I mention that today's post is  random?

And do I even need to mention that random is my blog's default setting?

I'm going to have an omelet now because my husband makes me one every morning because I was very, very smart about who I married. In case you're not my Facebook friend, you should know that he was so moved by the bizarre disconnect in the SYTYCD Lost Children of Uganda dance last night, he performed a totally unprompted interpretative dance of his feelings about the lack of consensus over the debt ceiling. A few weeks ago, he treated me to some spontaneous krumping and then promptly twisted his ankle.

I know, I  know. You all want to come over on Wednesday nights now. Too bad, so sad. I would have to clean before you come by and apparently beyond the sweeping-due-to-meet-social-norms, I just don't do that anymore.