The housewarming went better than I expected.

Most people treated it as a cookout, and there were only a handful of gifts, but everyone did bring food. Though there had been some guest list concerns early on, the final mix turned out just fine.

I got to meet Faith's kids Chad and Diaz for the first time. Imagine if you will a chest-high 3-year-old and a waist-high 2-year-old. Chad is a handful, and little sister Diaz is, as she declared when she approached me, "a princess". Apparently she'd decided I was her throne for the evening, and squatted in my lap to draw and watch people, when she wasn't styling my hair or asking to be flipped or spun.

~*~*~*

We returned Amy the chow chow to her owner last week. Apparently her real name is Onyx, she's 13 years old, and had wandered from housing community across the street and into our apartment complex. I do miss her, even though she was temperamental and didn't get along with Cocoa.

~*~*~*

We picked up the Legendary edition of Halo 3 at Best Buy on Friday even though we don't have an XBox 360. Dean does, and we thought we'd be able to play the much-vaunted 4-plyear co-op. As it turns out, you need 2 XBoxes and Xbox Live or System Link for 4-player Campaign mode. Patrick of course will be Master Chief, Dean I suppose will want to be the arbiter, which gives me a choice between the two new Elites. Around Thanksgiving, when Patrick and I can comfortably afford to buy a 360 of our own. The graphics are amazing though, and the story and gameplay as entertaining as one would expect - if not more so.















Pic snagged from the Bungie forums.

~*~*~*

I swear I can't write English good no more.
Fk.

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

It's been a long workweek. Six days and 60-something hours long, with Inventory smack-dab in the middle of all that. And what could be better than a housewarming, a convenient excuse for a casual get-together with coworkers after all that hard work?

Except that we've seen more of each other this week than we're accustomed or inclined to. I'm worried that Faith not might have fun at her own party. At this point, I'm committed to the event and need to start getting ready. I made brownies and chili, and am having Patrick drop me off at Dee's house so she can teach me how to make pancit before we meet up with the group.

Permanently or temporarily, we've adopted another dog.

It's been nice and cool lately, so I decided to open the windows. From my second-floor vantage point I saw a little black chow casually roaming the apartment complex, stopping to sniff a bush here, urinating over there, then continuing on its way. It was on the other I went outside to pet it, and it followed me halfway home. We stopped to ask a neighbor if she knew the dog, or of anyone looking for it. Neither of us had seen this particular chow before.

She's lying on the kitchen floor right now, panting and drooling onto a deep purple towel that was supposed to be Cocoa's next chew toy. They've both been fed and walked and provided with water. They're not getting along. The chow has established her dominance already, even though she's half Cocoa's size (and probably age) and has been here about five minutes. She's friendly towards Patrick and myself, but barks and growls when Cocoa gets too close.

The cat is freaking out. And having to play bouncer during the occasional dominance spats is no tea party.

2 a.m. again

As always, my depression is due in large part to poor self-care: lack of exercise, irregular and inadequate sleep hours, and poor diet choices.

The new Matchbox Twenty album, Exile on Mainstream, is coming out Oct. 2. It's a greatest hits album of sorts, with six new tracks. I don't really care for "How Far We've Come".

I feel heavier than ever, and yet guys circle me now: in cars here at the apartment complex while I'm walking Cocoa, and at work.

I'm badly in need of a vacation. Some days I wish I could just lapse into a coma for a few days. With any luck I'll awaken refreshed with no need to explain myself.

3 a.m. and I'm up making Spam fried rice.

Yesterday Faith, Keldric, Will and I were at Store 880 in Irving, helping out because tomorrow's their post-remodel Re-"Grand Opening". I had fun, though I got dusty and it was a little scary being in a "ghetto" store. Still, I didn't see used needles or crack pipes in the parking lot.

Afterwards we met up with the monthly after-hours group at Mexi-Go. I only had time for one margarita before Patrick arrived but I'd been up since 4 a.m. so it was time for me to leave. I hit the pillows almost as soon as we got home.

Now in the wee hours of the morning I find myself wide awake. I've paid bills, taken out the trash and put away dishes. I think I'll enter contests for another thirty minutes and then try for a nap.

I'm battling depression again.

There's nothing really wrong. These feelings will pass, I know.

Patrick's taken up golf. He's been to the driving range twice this weekend. A friend gave him a set of Wilson clubs, and I bought the matching golf bag from Walmart.com. It should arrive by next weekend.

Thursday's after-hours gathering will be at Mexi-Go. They have excellent margaritas, I am told, but since I'm going to be making some of my own for a cookout tomorrow, I don't know if I want to go.

My sales associate will be away on medical leave during the 2.5 weeks leading up to inventory. I'm starting to panic.

In other news, we didn't win the $330 million lottery jackpot this past Friday, though some lucky Houstonian did. I'm a little more addicted to my contests than usual: resentful of time spent away from the computer, anxious to check my email to see if I've won anything interesting, angry that I still haven't.

When I allow myself to wallow in my darker moods I feel it's all so pointless anyhow, that I'm a waste of time and money and potential, that no one needs me or is dependent on me, that none of it makes a difference.

Some days just feel like killing time.

new shoes!

AK Anne Klein's Maconcave (?),

Cream-colored leather with very Chanel quilting, finished with black piping, ribbon and wedge.

$29.97 plus tax at DSW