per kidchamp, per tomato nation:

come here, beautiful spring weather

go away, new co-worker who started a conversation with, "so what do you really want to do [with your career because this can't possibly be it]?"

come here/go away, old friend who called me up yesterday and offered me an amazing job, lots more money and time off than i have here, challenging, interesting work, good co-workers, the stage management jackpot. the catch? (there's always a catch, this one's a biggie). the job’s in utah. what would i do in utah? what would andy do in utah?

go away, netflix bait and switch. last weekend, netflix's splash page was advertising a $5.99/month plan, but when you reload the page, or signed up through an affiliate site, the lowest price plan became $9.99. to get even, here’s the link for the cheapie deal: http://www.netflix.com/Default?mqso=80006887. no promises how long that link'll work.

go away, king kong. we rented it this weekend, and yuck. kudos to peter jackson, it was beautifully styled and all that, but really, the cgi-monster-eating-other-cgi-monster scenes could all have been cut by two thirds. i found myself simultaneously grossed out and unable to really care which fake creature won. after what seemed like the fourth hour I got bored and told andy to tell me let me know if they ever made it to new york.

come here, memoirs of a geisha. you are pretty.

come here, pasta primavera with cream sauce experiments in the kitchen. there are very few dishes that i can improvise sans recipe, based on the ingredients in the fridge or inspiration in the produce department, but pasta with yummy sauce is one. take some combination of the following (whatever you have at hand): fresh tomatoes, mushrooms, bag o' frozen mixed veggies, garlic, onion, cream, veggie broth, white wine, butter, olive oil, parmesan cheese, fresh lemon, parsley, or basil. boil whole wheat linguini in well-salted water, add liberal amounts of fresh-ground pepper to whatever sauce you've created, and you're good to go. now, turn me loose in the kitchen with 16 staples of indian cooking, or thai, or anything middle eastern, and i'd be completely lost.

go away, html bug that causes my margins to be all wonky in firefox browsers.

go away, car stereo thief. you took my parking quarters, too.

go away, short sleeve sweaters. i do not like you.

spiky yellow tulips striped with red

pale pink magnolia blossoms, lovely for a day

gerber daisies in bold colors

violets nestled into the grass

fragile white orchid blooms

edible orange nasturtium on the plate

every year i try to pinpoint the exact day when spring begins. i do recognize the actual futility of this exercise, the seasons being a cycle, a gradual blending of hues, without a finite beginning or end. but nonetheless i always find myself mentally marking the days when certain events occur. it's like i wait and wait and wait for some sign of spring, through the cold dreary days of february and march, and sometimes april, and then it happens all at once, and i can't watch closely enough to see all the changes, things seem to spring out of the earth and bloom while you have your back turned. in chicago this year, the trees began to come out late on monday. by tuesday they had developed a green haze, a softening of the stark lines winter branches make against the sky. the tulips came out on wednesday afternoon, bent low and ruffled under an afternoon breeze. other signs slip past me and only register later. i didn't notice when the grass started turning green again, until suddenly last week, the world had a slightly emerald hue to it. and the daffodils, which are in full bloom right now, they snuck past me too, i don't recall what day they first arrived, but suddenly there are fields of yellow on either side of south lake shore drive.

but my favorite sign of spring is one that i can mark on my calendar, when daylight savings time switches over and we are graced with long, golden evenings that seem much more than just one hour longer. maybe someday i'll have to become one of those nomadic retirees who follows the warm weather around, bouncing between hemispheres to always stay within the bounds of summer.

So Owl wrote . . . and this is what he wrote:

HIPY PAPY BTHUTHDTH THUTHDA
BTHUTHDY.

Pooh looked on admiringly.

"I'm just saying 'A Happy Birthday'," said Owl carelessly.
"It's a nice long one," said Pooh, very much impressed by it.
"Well, actually, of course, I'm saying 'A Very Happy Birthday with
love from Pooh.' Naturally it takes a good deal of pencil to say a
long thing like that."
"Oh, I see," said Pooh.