Blogging for Becky

I have been neglecting TtheD of late and to my faithful seventeen readers, I apologize. I just haven't had a ton of excitement lately. Well, maybe I have, but I have retention issues and since I can't drop everything in the aftermath of something major and blog away, it's probably not going to stick with me for long.

So what's been up.. Not much, really. Just working away. Trying to be a good human. Battling TriMet buses and pedestrians and being thankful every time we get a day full of sun. The usual.

I think I'm getting allergies. Did I write about this last year? Because I find myself, on sunny days full of blossoms on the trees and that white cottony stuff that floats into your sunroof, getting kind of stuffed up. And a tiny bit sneezy. I've never been allergic to anything in my life (besides that flamboyan flower) so if this a new development of almost-middle-age, I think I want my money back.

So I started the week in Beaverton and found myself at Lincoln Tower today, which is good because it's closer to my house, and Nordstrom (which can be bad), but whenever I stop and start something midweek I'm all kerflucked and I can't get my head together. So all week I kept thinking it was the next day, and as I sit here right now I'm wondering why "Community" isn't on, and then it kind of pisses me off because I can't believe tomorrow is only Thursday. I'm Judy L. for the next four business days, and here's what I found under her desk this morning. What the heck is this? It's kind of hard NOT to put your feet on it and pedal away while you work up a HUD or quote fees to someone who doesn't believe you when you say you can't negotiate title fees or try to figure out if she actually SCHEDULED that courtesy down in Salem. Luckily I have a lot of experience on the elliptical so I don't like get short of breath or sweat or anything. I just pedal away. It's rather invigorating.

I'm a little bit sad about leaving Beaverton because the coffee shop downstairs' iced Americano with sugar free almond and room is like FOUR THOUSAND times better than the same version at the coffee shop in Lincoln Tower. The one I had today at LT tasted like foot.

On account of the sunshine and the location, I found myself at Nordstrom after work looking for pants. And here's my observation on that end: Not Your Daughter's Jeans have always kind of pissed me off, but just because of the name, and only because I feel like they are totally discriminating against me because I can't be in their stupid "I have a daughter" club. Like since I don't have any kids I can't pay $98 for a pair of obviously mom jeans. Feeling rather rebellious today, however, I tried on a pair anyway, and the end result is that it's not just the name that pisses me off, it's also all that flipping spandex and girdle-like material. I'm all J-Lo in those things. Seriously. These pants literally gave me MORE ass than I already have. Who needs that? Decision? Let's just start calling them Not Your Sister's Jeans. Or Not Your Aunt's Jeans. Because they aren't just for middle-aged mothers of girls. And they certainly aren't for someone who doesn't need more ass.

I'm exhausted right now (must have been all that footwork under the desk) and have to go, but I promise I'll be back to tell you about how I booked for Palm Springs and how I'm going to the Go-Gos with My Three Gays and other exciting things that I haven't retained long enough to tell you about.

Thanks for listening. Go Ducks.