Let's call this Tuesday's post

I'm on day three of not watching TV. I haven't stopped entirely because I'm not CRAZY I know myself pretty well, but I've stopped settling for Will and Grace reruns, murder rape murder torture murder child abuse and, oh yes, more murder on various Law and Order spin-offs, and back-to-back episodes of A Baby Story. Yes, WaG can be funny, Vincent D'Onofrio/Robert Goren hot and ~awesome~, and ABS touching, but I was spending a lot of time wishing I could punch Gross Adler in her head and then getting depressed because of all the horrible things that happen in the world and then wondering if TLC's real name is The Lord's Channel because DAMN every family they profile seems to be Christian beyond belief. (I praid to Gawd and Jaizus that my baybee wuld be okay and then he was, Glory Be!)

I first grew wary when TLC gave the Duggars a show (and changed the title when the matriarch popped out an 18th kid). And then there's the family with 10 kids, whatever their show is called. For my third strike, I made the mistake of watching a few minutes of Jon and Kate + Eight Screaming Children and OH MY GOD WE'RE TRAPPED UNTIL THEY GRADUATE FROM COLLEGE OR WE DIE AS THE RESULT OF A MURDER-SUICIDE PACT, WHICHEVER COMES FIRST and saw them go over their family's mission statement. (Seriously? Families have those?) I believe point number one was for them to share God's love with everyone they encountered and I kid you not, my ass hasn't unpuckered since I saw that. I had a vision of all the people who used to come up to me at Walmart and Target and start talking to me about their churches. Nothing I ever said worked: No, thank you, I'm not interested. Yes, I have a church. I'm Jewish. I'm an atheist. I'm calling security! I've since learned that said proselytizers have been schooled with a plethora of responses to ANYTHING you say. I was surprised when saying I had a church didn't make them go away but then realized that my church wasn't good enough because it wasn't THEIR church. Imagine what they would've said had I confessed that by 'church' I meant some fellow Wiccan's living room or backyard and our monthly celebration of the various Sabbats with our candle-and-Goddess-song heavy rituals. Oy. Seriously -- be a Christian; I don't care! But let me keep my religious beliefs to myself and You. Do. The. Same.

Okay, so that was a bit of a tangent. The pre-Christian-diatribe point is that I don't need to be sitting in my apartment with my brain rotting out of my head while I watch/listen/feel my soul drained away by the abysmal selections on daytime TV. There are plenty of other things I could be doing. To start with, I've been sitting on my porch with my laptop and playing Yahoo! games that tax my brain (try Adventure Chronicles; a few of the levels threw me for a loop; keep in mind that the delivery of the dialogue is both melodramatic, full of grammatical and/or spelling errors, and is RIDIKERUS). I've also been maintaining my farm in Farm Town on Facebook. I know -- hard life, huh?

In addition to porch sitting, I've also been leaving the house! Two days ago, I wore myself out with all the running around I did. I was up at 7:30 a.m. for some unknown reason and decided to stay up. Even though I could've used the rest after going to bed at 3:00 a.m. and sleeping fitfully, I worried that I would sleep until sometime past noon and lose a chunk of the day. After I performed my morning ablutions and checked to make sure the Internet was still in place, I went for a walk. I made it two blocks before the ankle splints kicked in. I hadn't exercised in a while and of course didn't stretch beforehand, so I ended up taking a few breaks because OW STABBING ANKLE PAIN. I walked four blocks and then came home to revise my will because omgamgoingtodie. I could scoff at my progress, or lack thereof, but I was outside and walking and soaking up the beautiful day instead of sitting inside and wondering when all that damn sunshine was going to go away.

After my walk, I went for a drive. I tried the grilled chicken burrito at Taco Bell (don't; it's not good; why I'm remotely surprised I fell for yet another one of Toenail* Bell's commercials, I do not know) and then hung out with my folks for a few hours. I talked to King V about the biz (long story short: it's not good) and let him vent for a while. He's also supposed to go overseas to present a paper and it looks like it might not happen. The event is being poorly organized and funding might not come through. Here's hoping it all works out though the prognosis is not good.

* I once took a four-month hiatus from eating Taco Bell when a former coworker told me that the occasional crunchy things I encountered in my burritos were probably toenails. I had always figured they were errant grains of dried-out rice but after he said that, I couldn't stop thinking I had eaten feet bits. For anyone who had been looking for a way to eat less Taco Bell, you're welcome.

After talking to King V, I filled out some paperwork for the plus-size women's workshop I'm going to facilitate at this year's Michfest. I ambled upstairs and talked to Queen S and tried not to panic when she started asking questions about my financial situation. No, of course I'm not worried. The past 10 weeks have been nothing but a picnic. I haven't cried once or been depressed or answered numerous Craigslist job ads that turned out to be scams. Nope. Not me.

Despite worry, I am suckling from the Teat of Optimism™ and believing with all my various being fibers that I will find a job. I certainly have anicked episodes where I wonder if I'll ever work again, but then I pluck the ToO back in my mouth and everything is fine. "Fine" being that catch-all, things-are-good-for-the-next-five-minutes-or-two-hours, nip-the-useless-panicking-in-the-bud sort of response.

After having my stress levels and blood pressure inflated by my loving parents (who mean well; I know this), I headed off to AT&T to try and get my iPhone fixed. The iPod has fairly recently just decided to start playing randomly. At worst it cuts off phone conversations and scares the shit out of me, as it did for the first time earlier today. At best (and funniest), my pocket will start playing music. The AT&T employee I spoke with told me (with an interesting hands-off, backing-away sort of body language) that all warranty issues have to be handled by the Apple store and then just looked at me. Do you have an address? I drawled, not realizing I had to solicit the information. As Mr. Helpful walked to the bank of computers where such information is stored, he called over his shoulder that the store is in a froo-froo part of town that I like to call Caucasians at the Crossing, "RIGHT next to the Pottery Barn!" I wanted to call out "Do I LOOK like I shop at Pottery Barn??" but since I apparently do, I just stood there wondering what made him think I do more than drool over the pretty in the PB catalogs I occasionally stumble across. While thinking about Rachel, Ross, and Phoebe and their adventures with the Apothecary Table.

After my waste-of-time- trip to AT&T, I rushed home to change clothes so I could head out that evening for a friend's dinner party, at which there were shish kabobs, a delicious jalapeno-containing guacamole, and s'mores made by the fire pit in the backyard. There were also buzz-inducing dacquiris, lots of good conversation, laughter, and clitoris discussions. Seriously. It was a wonderful way to end the day.

Yesterday, not surprisingly, I hung around the house, aside from a trip to Staples for a new mouse and an extension cord so I can sit on the porch without draining the laptop's juice. I was to hang out with Serena today but she cancelled our plans due to a financial crisis. It's probably just as well; I was stressing out someone witnessing the mess that is my house. In addition to watching less TV and doing things that keep my brain from turning into Swiss cheese, perhaps I can putter my way to that stack of papers... and that candle that fell on the floor... and that screen that fell out of the window two weeks ago... and those cat hair tumbleweeds that just might stage a coup if left unchecked. I've made timely bill paying and grocery store visits into routine events instead of Surprising Things I Do To Keep My Credit from Diving Into the Toilet; I can make regular housecleaning a habit too. I did finally get the dishes done, so wonders clearly haven't ceased.

HOLY. SHIT. Two people on a pair of horses just went down my street. And my hot must-be-a-dyke neighbor keeps going in and out of her apartment. Being outside really IS a good thing.