Daydreaming

Some people may daydream about kissing (although, come to think of it, I daydream about that, too). Some daydream about playing with dogs or being high-powered executives. Or being high-powered executives who play with dogs (well, I don't know--they might daydream about that).

Me? I daydream about a little place to myself, a little apartment or condo or cottage or yurt (if I happen to move to Mongolia) to call my very own. (Or rather, the landlord's or bank's very own, which I just happen to be leasing/paying off for a while.)

Yes. I daydream about buying towels and shower curtains and decorating the place with framed prints of botanical drawings and/or my cross-stitch projects, of purchasing sculptures of Chinese dragons and statues of Anubis to place on end tables and shelves, of having floor rugs and a couch I purchased myself and--joy of joys--a refrigerator I don't have to share with anyone else.

And maybe a dog. That too.

It's not that I don't like my roommates--I do. Actually, I like them a lot; they're fantastic gals, uniformly pleasant, who don't intrude too much and who give just enough support when one's dad is in the hospital having heart surgery.

But, I think I'm getting to the point where I'm ready to be on my own, to move away from the student atmosphere, to establish a life for myself.

Ready to grow up, I mean.

Which just begs the question: if I do get a dog, which breed should it be?

Sightings

I saw a couple of wild turkeys while I was out walking this morning.

Just thought you should know.

Move over, doggie rescue and sarcastic-yet-brilliant doctors--Gilmore Girls is IT.

Anyone who has read this blog in the past has no doubt come accross my rather too frequent references to Animal Planet. And, although I haven't really talked about it much, I'm also a closet 'House' fan. (It's, er, a little edgy, which is probably why I watch it from the safety of my closet.)

But lately, my TV watching preference has been skewing sharply to the mother-daughter witty repartee of Gilmore Girls. I'm not sure what it is about this show--maybe it's just that Rory & her mom Lorelei have such an obvious best-friend sort of affection for each other, or maybe it's the maybe, maybe-not sort of relationship Lorelei has with the local diner owner. Or, it could be the juxtapostion of the afore-mentioned great relationship between Lorelei and her daughter, next to the really cruddy relationship between Lorelei and her mother Emily.

But I don't think those are the main reasons I like the show.

I like it because the conversations on "The Gilmore Girls" are as snappy as they come. They always have these wonderfully glittery, witty lines that bounce back & forth like a skilled game of (oh, this is such an obvious comparison) tennis. Or maybe volleyball. Except that you play volleyball with a team, and tennis is usually just one-on-one, unless you play in pairs, in which case it would be two-on-two, so tennis would probably be the better comparison. But, long story (or post) short, they have the kinds of conversations I would like to have if I were witty and intelligent, and rather full of good humor. (And also pretty. Those Gilmore Girls are so darn pretty. Sigh. I just want to be like them so much.)

Which is I guess where I'm going with this. I wish that I could have conversations like Lorelei and Rory have. I wish that my brain could come up with fun verbal bouncy-balls that I could send over into the other court, which would then be bounced back, and I'd have to bounce something back again, which, now that I think about it, could get pretty tiring. I mean, I guess people can't really talk like that in real life. Our brains have to pause to process things like what someone just said to us, rather than spend all their waking moments trying to come up with brilliant things to say.

It doesn't matter. I still wish I were a Gilmore Girl. Ah. To be on the WB. Siiiigh.

M&M's and Doggie Rescue

So, I'm back. I'll admit it. I recognize my addiction.

But it's not like I'm going to give it up. I mean, come on! One of the few pleasures I have in life...wait, what am I talking about? I have plenty of pleasures in life. Anyway--one of the pleasures I have in life is to sit here on this nice li'l couch and watch animal rescue shows on Animal Planet (which I know I've mentioned before--frequently).

Except now that it's a commercial break, and my mom has turned to "Skating with the Stars." Unfortunately.

Wait--we're back to animal rescues now. Thank goodness. I don't think I could've watched much more of Joey from "Full House" skating around with Nancy Kerrigan.

Where was I?

Ah, yes. Animal rescues. What I really like is that these shows focus on a few specific locations, including Detroit. I have to admit that, as a missionary, we had very few encounters with pitt bulls being used in dog fighting rings, or cats that were beaten or neglected, but they're sure out there. It's a sad, sad show. And I love it. Not because of the heartrending stories, and not because of the inhumane conditions some of these animals have to live in--it's because these animals are rescued. They're taken out of these conditions, put into homes where they can be loved, and they end up happy. (Well, most of them, at least. Some, for various reasons do have to be euthanized.)

But it's really for that reason that I could watch this show for hours on end. I think, especially now, in this time of uncertainty and depression, and even sometimes the deaths of cute little kittens, that I can use a little bit of happily ever after.

P.S. And M&M's are yummy. Yep.