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I spent my Saturday morning trying to get signatures for a politician's campaign in front of a, well, let's say particularly colorful Safeway. For the most part, people just went out of their way to avoid eye contact. If you think that you are being sly when you do this to people who you fear are going to ask for your money, or worse, time, you are very, very mistaken. You are totally obvious. I think it's interesting that in a city that is political as SF, people wouldn't even take the time to help get a candidate on the ballot. But, I didn't mind those people as much as the ones who wanted to talk to me and still wouldn't sign or the crazies. There were some funny crazies who wanted to talk about George Bush, the man, etc. Then there were the crazy crazies who came close to throwing me over the edge. One went so far as to get in my face and tell me that what I was doing was illegal. Freak. I managed to get him out of my face and ended my shift shortly thereafter. I got about 27 signatures in an hour and a half. This, apparently is good. 10 an hour is considered successful. This, is something I will not likely do again.

Today, we went out and bought a flat screen. At Costco. While not the most fun way to spend a morning, I am loving the 37 inch version of the Food Network Star finale and look forward to enjoying the rest of the Harry Potter series in the same fashion. Although, I almost had some major buyer's remorse because the picture is sort of wide and fuzzy. The husband assures me that this is only because we don't yet have the appropriate cable receiver.

I spent the rest of the day working at a six year old's birthday party. The theme was: "What Kind of Cake Will You Make?" and there were 16 girls split into four groups each with one harried adult at the helm of cake making. My cake was a heart shaped chocolate cake with vanilla butter cream and "sprinkles." Sprinkles meaning chocolate chips, gummy worms, M &Ms, 4 types of sprinkles, and mini Hershey kisses. I called it the dump cake because the "sprinkles" were about two inches thick.

New home sweet home

We moved. Into a TWO BEDROOM apartment. While complaints about our previous place pepper this entire blog, you can see them most clearly here, here, here, and here.

The new place rocks for many reasons including the following: a living room + huge bedroom + huge walk in closet + wide hallway + EXTRA bedroom + huge well remodeled kitchen + non coin operated laundry right out of my back door + neighborhood with great parking. There is, however, a dog size hole in the fence of our side yard. Our dog walker had kept the pooch Friday night and most of Saturday. She brought him home while we were enjoying our traditional celebratory meal of pizza and champagne. After moving on Saturday, we spent a long time Sunday cleaning the new place. When we finished, I dropped the husband off at the new house and headed to the grocery store. He called sounding sort of accusatory.

"Do you remember leaving the back door wide open?"

"No, actually, I thought I shut it. Did I leave it open? And if so... Oh shit! Where's The DOG???"

"He was here, lying on the couch. But, the back door was wide open (and, his tone said, he could have run away and been hit and killed by a speeding Range Rover)."

This is what my father always called female head up ass syndrome. And that, he would say proudly, is not the same as being on the rag.