When you’ve got nothing to say . . .

When you’ve got nothing to say . . .

. . . make a blog entry. I just got home from taking two classes. The first was from one to half five and was my last Real Estate course! I’ve signed up for a review session on Wednesday the 18th and then will take the test on Thursday the 19th. I’m muy nervous about taking this test. Apparently very very few people pass it first time around and yet my pride/guilt complex says that I absolutely must do so or else I am a bad person.

Anyway. The second class was from six to nine and was over at the MAC and was on knifemaking. Yes, knifemaking. For Christmas Mom and Dad gave me a gift certificate for classes over there. I was going to take photography or something, but since I’ve gone digital and this class is for B/W film (teaches developing methods and what not), it is no longer quite as relevant as it once was (I still want to take it and learn how, but I’d rather find a class on digital camera techniques first). So, I was flipping through the catalogue and happened upon knifemaking. It’s only offered once a year and so I jumped on board. It’s an interesting class and I think you can probably expect some updates about my progress.

In other news I am almost paralyzed by guilt over my inability to write letters back to people. I’ll be totally and utterly honest here. I have an e-mail waiting for me from three different people (that would be Katie, Lauren, and Shona . . . told you I was being honest) and I can’t even bring myself to read them. Why? Because I feel SO guilty over not having written them long ago that I can’t even bring myself to read their new letters. I know it makes no sense. I can’t even figure out why I’m writing it here. But then again, no one ever said that I was anything resembling sane.

And as a final piece of news, one of my bestest friends’ birthday is today/tomorrow (depending on where you live). Chris Bowles will no doubt be drinking heavily with Clarice tomorrow evening, but he better realize that it’s all rubbish without me there to force him to do shots of various vile liquors. So I say Happy Birthday, you sexy Mo-Fo! Sorry I’m not there to celebrate with you!

And now I shall leave you all. I do not envy you the headache you will have when you awake. But for now, rest well and dream of large women.


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