All I do now is wait for a fancy piece of paper to come in the mail. Free time, here I come!

So a few things to discuss, in the midst of our blogging drought (we must be sunbathing, rather than typing). I’ve been doing some very summery reading–all leisure, no literature–which I’d like to recommend. If you’ve never tried any Robert Ludlum, The Bourne Identity is tons of fun so far. I’ve never read an espionage thriller, but I’m considering adding the genre to my circle of interest. More particularly, I will recommend the works of Ian Fleming, the creator of James Bond. I’ve just finished his first novel, Casino Royale, and just purchased the second, Live and Let Die. A bit more literary than Ludlum, but not exactly Jane Austen. Casino Royale is the novel which introduced the world to Bond’s famous dry martini, The Vesper, though you’ve probably never heard it called that.

In between hours of reading spy fiction, I am studying for my second and final board exam this Saturday. I am billing it as “The Last Test Ever,” at least for me, and I plan on putting a bullet through it’s heart without spilling a drop of my celebratory martini.

Had lots of fun dancing at Memories in Whittier last night. Saw many of you at lessons, then went downstairs to dance until 11-something, that is, until we were sweaty and exhausted from dancing relentlessly in an 85 degree room. Then found the nearest McDonald’s with a functioning soft serve machine (the one in Whittier just turns theirs off sometime around 11). Gotta get some of you new folks out for social dancing. It’s the best.

I have multiple days off, in a row, because I took them off work. I will now proceed to make a bunch of plans I won’t actually keep in favor of sitting in bookstores reading and doing very little else. I can smell the pages now. The pages smell like freedom.

Final Board exam on 8/8/09. After 12 years of formal study, the Board want to be reallyreally sure I learned stuff with just one more test. Just this one little old test. Pleeeesepleaseplease. Just one more. Take our tests. Fine. I will take your tests. And murder them in the process. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

That’s it. Dance tonight. Look forward to dance over books and coffee for the rest of the day. Here I come, caffeine-addled freedom haze.

There was something this week that I was enjoying–food, I don’t doubt–so much that I was thinking, “I ought to blog about this.” I forgot what it was. Now you get this. A blog about something I forgot. Which made me think about how much more efficient I am at remembering to do lists, things that annoy me and people I dislike, than I am at focusing on the good in life and others, however fleeting it is or hard to uncover.

Anyway, we’re going to San Diego today, which is wicked fun, except for having to miss dance. The lobby of the hotel will probably have a nice slippery floor, so maybe we can have a dance party there. And they won’t mind, because the customer is always right, and this customer wants to dance.

If you’ve never watched a Laker game with Robert, you haven’t lived. Or sworn.

We are growing tomatoes and they are coming along just smashingly. Sometimes literally, cuz a few get mushy and they’re fun to smash.

In a deductive vein, babies, particularly super-cute nephews, can tell me where their and my noses are, and where their ears and belly buttons are, but when you try to feed them ‘Chicken and Vegetables Dinner,’ they throw it around like they don’t know where their mouth is, and I secretly suspect they do know.

I am planning to eat a donut in the next 48 hours, specifically a glazed old fashioned.

I am not at work today. Booyah.

Congratulations to all beginners who narrowly survived their first-ever swing dance lesson! Hope you had fun. For those interested in cheap, dance shoe conversions, we’re gonna visit a leather shop in Fountain Valley this week and learn about gluing leather onto Keds and tennis shoes for low low prices. If cheap enough, will pick up some spare leathers for ya’ll. Hurray!

Jason Parks–Churrolandia is the AWESOME! Bavarian Creme-Filled Churros are the straight up, deliciousness-punches-you-in-the-face winner. Hurray!

Weather = fantastic today. Like a cool day in Hawaii. Hurray!

Now I’m gonna study for a while. Not hurray.

I fed our local itinerant hobo bunny until he was chock full of apple, and then he let me pet him. Now he’s sleeping in the shade in our backyard.

I got a bunch of pork for a BBQ tomorrow. The butcher gave me a hard time about my limited meat knowledge. No, of course the pork shoulder roasts didn’t come bone out. Yes, she could be troubled to remove the bone (which took 30 seconds). Was I aware this would cost me more money ($1.49/lb instead of $.99)? I find now, as always, that I don’t particularly need any condescension from people wearing plastic aprons. In the end, I’ve got a bunch of meat. Don’t recall the actual poundage, but I’d say it’s about two sleeping bunnies worth.

The rub for the pork calls for bourbon. I never bought bourbon before. Turns out it’s just whiskey with a superiority complex. ooooOOOOoooh. I come from Bourbon County Kentucky. OOOooooh. Aren’t I special. Suckers. I bought JD, which is from Tennessee. I’m a rule breaker all right. Most of the bottle left, so we’ll just have to drink it all sometime. Ha. Stuff smells awful. I know, I spilled a bunch all over my kitchen. Which is why my house smells like the deep south. That and the tobacco crop I’m drying in the dining room.

New swing series starts week of the 25th, Mondays at 9am and Fridays at 7:30. Let me know if you’re interested.

Overheard on the Aerial Tram in Palm Springs.

British guy (very British, voice dripping with disdainful smugness and a cultured pretension several centuries in the making), to the British guy next to him: They don’t really DO food in this country, do they? I mean, it’s just the same burger place one after another.

Really British? Really? Americans don’t do food? This from the nation which has provided the world with such wondrous culinary inventions as “Brown Stuff with Gray Sauce” and potatoes with sausage. Or sausage. And let’s call it a “Banger” just to make it snappy!!!! AND SPOTTED DICK!!!! Really?!?!? Maybe if there wasn’t anything except a hamburger patty drenched in off-white gravy goo…

Went to an indian casino in Palm Springs for lunch today. Paul put $2 in a deuces wild poker machine. I bet 25 cents and got dealt a straight flush and made three bucks (a profit of 1200%). I cashed out immediately and later spent my winnings on a pretty beverage at the top of the aerial tram. Hahahahaha. Stick it to the (casino) man.