Okay, it's getting a little too All Evan Dando All The Time around here, so I think maybe it's time for me to stop. Incidentally, "I think maybe it's time for me to stop" was the very same thing I said out loud a few days ago, when I found myself deep in an Internet wormhole, looking at pictures of Evan Dando's mother's Christmas tree on her Facebook page. I don't know how this happened, honestly. One minute I was watching YouTube videos of acoustic Lemonheads performances, the next I was admiring Mrs Dando's ornaments. (Note to self, Mrs Dando's ornaments would be an awesome band name and/or euphemism for boobs.)
The other day, my friend Alison said to me "I sort of feel like we've got to the stage where he's going to send out a restraining order against you soon. And you'll just frame it and call it a letter from Evan." The sad part is, that is kind of true. I mean, look how great my framed set list looks! ("Next to your bed?" my brother asked on Friday night, scornfully. "Next to my heart," I corrected him.)
I'd have to double-check with HGTV, but a framed restraining order might really complete the tableau. Of course, so would ironing my pillowcases once in a while, but let's not judge.
And that is all we shall say about Evan Dando forevermore, ooh, apart from a) I have indeed bought tickets for the Boulder show in February, meaning we can all look forward to another cycle of 90s nostalgia and borderline obsessive behaviour three months from now, just as this one is staring to wind down and b) thanks to my last couple of posts, I have, over the last few days, amassed a small posse of like-minded Evan Dando enthusiasts, with whom I have been emailing therapeutically, as though we were an unusual but very committed support group. You know, you read so much about the Internet bringing new mothers together, as they bond together over their shared experiences and form a constructive community, but I would also like to give a shout-out to the Internet for matchmaking us non-mom types as well, and letting us find our (very, very, very specialized) tribes. Someone needs to help you track down the lyrics to that obscure B-side from 1993, right? And I am happy to be that someone.
Now onto some other stuff! No more Evan Dando until February! Oh wait, just one more thing.
Well, okay, fair enough. Maybe not if it's him.
I do indeed have a cold, which I woke up with on Saturday morning after hosting a supremely fun party on Friday night (coincidence? Well, obviously! Nothing to do with staying up until 2am, drinking around a campfire in November, clearly.) By the way, my records show that this is my fourth cold of the year, which seems a little excessive, don't you think? I am not, historically, a particularly "sick" person; I cannot remember the last time I threw up and I have hitherto had the immune system of a.....thing with a very strong immune system—shark? elephant? dinosaur? Wait, if dinosaurs had awesome immune systems they might still be around—so I'm not entirely sure what's going on, only that I have bought a lot of Dayquil in 2011, and I am not pleased.
I guess if there is a silver lining, though, it's that I'm getting this cold out of the way before we head to South Africa next week. Did your eyes just pop out of your head when you realized how fast that had crept up? Don't worry, mine too. I have been preparing by making many, many, many lists of all the things I need to do before we leave, and also by spending a large amount of money on earth-toned clothing at Old Navy, because I suddenly realized that Sean and I both need "safari wear." Seeing as safari wear is just—I assume, anyway—pants in various hues of khaki, I took advantage of this week's 30% off coupon (it's available on the Old Navy website until Tuesday, FYI) and bought a few things today. This, sadly, has been the most glamorous of my errands so far. Never say never, though: on Tuesday, I'm going to Target to stock up on bug spray and preventive anti-diarrhea meds. Whoooo! Rock and roll all night! Party every day! Live free, die young! (Wait, not that last one. I'm stocking up on the bug spray because I don't want to die young. Of malaria.)
Hmm, what else? Well, I wanted to thank you all for entering my raffle for the shiny red stand mixer earlier this week—though not as much as Sean would like to thank you, I think, since it has been sitting on our garage floor for the last year, taking up valuable space that could be occupied by another can of primer (WE OWN ALL THE PRIMER IN THE UNIVERSE)—and also to let you know that I have chosen the winner, and she has been notified, so basically, if you have not heard from me, it is not you. Instead, it is Lori! Congratulations, Lori! And to everyone else, thank you so much for participating.
Finally, is anyone headed to Alt Summit in January? I have the distinct honor of speaking at it this year, which is basically a dream come true—even though they do not have me on the speakers page yet, so I'm hoping it's not just a cruel joke that's being played at my expense—and I will be talking about how we organize our online finds, specifically through the enjoyable time suck that is Pinterest. In the event that any of you are going, does anyone perchance need a roommate? I am perfectly nice, I promise—weird inability to let go of lifelong crush on obscure 90s singer/songwriter notwithstanding—and I will probably only steal one of the mini bottles of shampoo. Wow, I am selling myself so well right now. Quick, who needs me to write them an elevator pitch?
Let me finish here and flee into the arms of the large bottle of Nyquil on my bedside table, but not before bidding you a very happy Daylight Saving Time and joyous putting-the-clocks-back-palooza. You know, the extra hour of sleep sounds like a good idea in theory, but then you get to the evening part and it all goes to hell, right? My cats were yowling for dinner an hour earlier, and as for me, I am three seconds and two inches away from faceplanting into my keyboard. There is no way on earth that it is still only 8:45pm.