#1. I can't stop talking like the Amy Adams character in the movie Junebug. It's North Carolina at its finest and I'm a sucker for a twangy N.C. accent. Russ says I'm pretty good at it. My favorite quoteables: "I wonder what she looks like. I bet she's skinny. She probably is. She's skinnier'n me and prettier too. Now I'll hate her" and "You ever go to college, I bet you did." I can tack that phrase, "I bet you did" on the end of any sentence, probably to the annoyance of anyone who has to spend more than a few moments with me.
#2. Organization (A life long project).
#3. Trying to get out of getting my wisdom tooth pulled tomorrow. We'll see if I can worm out of it last minute. Not because I'm scared. No, really.
#4. Taco salad. So simple, yet so genius.
#5. While helping Russ clean out our studio/office today, I noticed the mounds of journals I have stashed all over my bookcases. I think I've bought maybe three or four journals my entire life and the other thirty-two have been gifts. Why do people always get writers journals? Are they thinking, "Oh, she's a writer, she'd love a journal"? This is the kind of thinking that gets me stuck with thirty-some journals that I don't use -- I'm a typer. I love typing. True, pencil and ink hold an important place in the Writing Hall of Fame as contributors to literary greatness, but I love me a good keyboard. The louder the keys, the warmer my heart. So, if you know a writer out there, take it from me and don't, don't, don't get them a journal. Even if it's the most awesomest journal in the whole world and would stop traffic if it had legs and could walk across Hollywood and Highland. Because the truth is, even the awesomest journal will just go into the journal-mush-pile where it will get divied up between White Elephants, Regifts, and a dusty life on an studio/office bookcase.
That's all. Enjoy your own obsessions.
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