I have a confession … a few actually …

I fear I’m a bit of a book snob.  True, I love a good foo-foo book; I love to plop down in a big comfy chair, curl up with an easy read, and what-not.  But the other night I dreamt people were sending me book lists that included – GASP! – Christian romances.  I was mortified!    Mortified! {profuse apologies to those who are offended … perhaps the next confession will help you consider the source and ease your mind}

I cannot, for the life of me, utter “I’m well.”  I can’t do it.  When someone asks how I am, I reply with the ever-unaccepted “I’m good.”  My mind registers the proper response; but I simply cannot speak the words. They refuse to escape my mouth.  I don’t know what it is … I know that I feel too high and mighty.  Perhaps I was traumatized as a kid with some exceedingly proper and rude person? I don’t know.  But there you have it. 

Technology is not my friend.  I have a tight deadline and, true to form, technology has decided to rebell.  It started yesterday morning.  First, my wireless mouse was acting weird.  Changed the batteries, nothing.  Then my wireless keyboard died.  Batteries were good – the clock was still working - I just couldn’t type.  Then – horror of horrors – my big, lovely second monitor went black.   So here I am, typing away at the kitchen table.  My eyeballs will be crying by the end of the day, just so you know.   And I feel an ugly disposition creeping in …

I think intelligence is hot.  I’ve always had a certain soft spot for nerdly types.  One of my first crushes should be arriving in the mail today – Young Sherlock Holmes.  I still remember the first time I watched that movie; I was positively smitten with that smart, young detective – brown plaid deerstalker, matching cloak and all.   Yeah, there may be a reason I’m still single …