travel

The world keeps spinning...

For all of you that kept needling me to go to the doctor, yeah, you were right, okay? Now be quiet! :) Actually, I got better news than I expected. I have a nasty ugly sinus infection—bad enough that the doc felt that part of my problem was that I wasn't getting good sleep because of it. So Dr. Puri loaded me up with industrial-strength antihistamines (a shot, no less!) and sent me home with a prescription for a wicked-strength anti-coughing medicine and told me to get some rest.I have GOT to find out what these meds are. Two hours after the shot, I would've sworn to you that I wasn't even sick. I could breathe, I could think. So I did a couple of loads of laundry, made a very-necessary run to the bank, and picked up a few bags of groceries. Then came home and lolled on the couch for a few hours. Last night I slept like a log and actually woke up before my alarm this morning (thus, having enough time to write this before I amble off to work).

thud! (part 1)

Yes. I have now seen the tackiness that is New Orleans. Good grief, what heavy food they've got there. I have to agree with Jen, who commented on the total lack of vegetable matter being served at every meal we had there.

Jen and Amy, Jackson Square. cnaJackson Square?

(full photoset is on flickr)

There's no bug spray for The Travel Bug.

SPAAAAAAAZZZZZZZZ! Okay, okay, I do this before every single trip that I take. I know that spazzing and flitting about the night before a trip is not healthy in the least, but that's probably why I do it.

N'awlins, here I come. Be afraid…be very afraid…I'm bringing my camera and we all know what THAT means—incriminating pictures of my traveling mates!

It looks to be a seven-hour drive, which isn't too terrible considering that I'm going to start driving at about six a.m. I figure I'm going to hit Birmingham in the height of rush hour, and that it should be smooth sailing from there on out. As usual I'm overprepared—I have bottled water and munchies to take with me, as well as an umbrella or two since it's supposed to rain this weekend.

The truth about (domesti)cats and dogs

I have to confess. I watched The Truth About Cats And Dogs for something like the zillionth time on television last night. For the zillionth time, it put that hangdog "awwwwww!" look on my face, and when it was over, I had this irresistible urge to cuddle my cats.

I don't know what it is about this movie that does it to me every time. Maybe because I project waaaaay too much of myself onto the Janeane Garofalo/Quasimodo character. You know the type all too well—the person whose agility with words is almost enough to make anything—even wild passionate luuuuuuv with sexy brunette British men—possible.

I probably need psychiatric help for this, don't I?

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