Sherry asked me this evening what book was “me”. Bugger. How the hell am I supposed to answer that? We threw around some options for both of us, but really, given the thousands upon thousands of books we’ve read between us, it’s hardly a fair or easy question to answer. (I want to be The Count of Monte Cristo.)

I ache. This morning I was up at 6:15am. I hit the St. Jacobs Farmers Market, with a date, sort of. I now have meaty and vegetable-y goodness. And another cinnamon bun. Booyah. Then I let Barney and Gordie out and gave them smoked pork bones (did wonders for Gordie’s teeth) and cleaned up the house a bit (Andrew and Paula make poor choices in housesitters…). Then I went over to my brother’s and got things ready for Mom to start painting on Monday, which included an aborted trip to Home Depot. Then I picked up my bike. Then Sherry and I went for a walk and hit the tea shop and the library and had gelato. Then I had a nap, which was ended by my brother calling. Then I went to Zehrs and gave the PC bank machine some money and bought some groceries. Then I went over to Andrew’s and took Barney and Gordie for a walk, after which Gordie and I played some tug of war and fetch with a Kong. Then I came home and started laundry. Then Sherry and I got into the “what book are you?” discussion, among others. Now it is almost 10pm, and I am exhausted. My knees and hips and lower back ache and I feel old and want some hot monkey massage action. Hmph. Tomorrow Dana and I are going to the United States of America! (Damn you, woman, I can’t stop calling it that.) I’m going to buy undies! And possibly Luna Bars. I will not buy any of the weird ass toothpastes she keeps bringing home.

So, the boy. I gave him the link to read my Film Fest rundown, but I have no idea if he’s read anything else here. Oh well, fuggit, it’s my blog. Anyway, boy is wickedly bipolar. Today we had: Manic. Whee! Much talking, and at a great rate of speed. So you’re thinking, “So he talks like you do, then?” Shut up. Anyway. Sweet, adorable in his own way, very much a large child. Kinda… bouncy. Fun to hang out with, very interesting to talk to, but a little tiring. SO not my type. That and we have just about nothing in common. I’d break him, literally and emotionally. Just a wee bit different from Mark, where there was only one crucial thing lacking and everything else was daisies. Oh, and we almost have the same car. Eek. Oh well. So currently there is one more potential in the queue. We shall see… Honestly? Dating: it is a farce. And I still hate it.

Alas, I have no man of my dreams who has written a book and whose soulful Latin eyes gaze up at me from the back cover. Life is so easy for some people… 🙂

1 Comment on Pages.

  1. Easy? He’s on the cover and I’m here!

    I’m still looking for the book(s) that are us. But I’d like to think that we embody the words that we have read, the cadence, the sensations evoked, the ideas conveyed. And if so, we’re a damn fine read.

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