Reading: Elton John's memoir, Me. It's fabulous. I really feel Elton and I could be soulmates if I worked harder, had more talent, and weren't afraid to wear satin during the day. Other than that, we're like this:
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| But with, like, sequins and feathers and stuff. |
Drinking: Diet Squirt. Does anybody drink Squirt? It's supposed to be a grapefruit-flavored soda. But I loathe grapefruit, yet I love Squirt. And I had to search high and low to find the diet version. I don't think it tastes like grapefruit at all. If you're a certain age, you may remember that 7Up used to be called "the un-cola." I think Squirt tastes like the un-7Up.
Digesting: A bowl of fettuccine with yummy homemade sausage-studded marinara that Drummer Boy and I made last weekend. But also pondering: Why the box the pasta came in (in which the pasta came...whatever) says "fettuccine" when it's clearly linguine? This is fettuccine:
And this is linguine:
And they are totally different. Get your act together, Market Pantry. Linguine rules, fettuccine drools.
Envying: Precocious Daughter, who earlier this week got to see a screening of Once Upon a Time...in Hollywood that was attended by Mike Moh, who played Bruce Lee in the movie. How great is that? I don't recall doing as many cool things in college as she does. When I was her age I was on the brink of getting engaged to my future ex-spouse. I thought that was pretty cool at the time. I really should have gone to more movie screenings.
Mourning: The end of Elizabeth Warren's candidacy. I was very, very late to jump on the Warren bandwagon. In fact, until I watched her on the debate stage over the last several weeks, I had never warmed to her at all. But I was so damn impressed with her positions, her intelligence, her poise. So I voted for her on Super Tuesday, and two days later she dropped out of the race. I am a political Grim Reaper, apparently. Hell, I voted for Michael Dukakis in 1988. That was also just before I got engaged to my then-future-former-husband-to-be. The 80s were a decade of bad choices, children.
Writing: This, and kicking myself for not writing more. I'd really like to get back to writing and blogging on a regular basis. Maybe even tilting at my personal windmill of having something accepted by McSweeney's. Bwahahahahaha. No, seriously, it could happen. I mean, Joe Biden is finally winning primaries after 30 years of trying. Anything could happen.
Believing: Elton John and I could sing "Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters" together wearing matching lime-green tuxedos.
Not currently. But you gotta start somewhere.
Taking: Phone calls from India?
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