In breaking news today: the lionsuit-wearing drummer of the mysterious Tullycraft is currently driving for us. There was a thoroughly unfortunate and awkward reunion of sorts in dispatch just minutes ago. I walked up and asked "Jeff?" and he looks at me blankly and goes "Yes?" smiling patiently, then together we said "Michelle."
Mumbled utterings about T-craft reunions followed, and then I dawdled off, feeling like a dork. It was weird having someone not recognize me. That sounds much more arrogant than it is: I'm just weird, and usually people remember me. But then again, I was blonder, younger, and possibly thinner then too.
Meanwhile, UPS brought me a new toy for work today, and I am all acquivvvvvver with delight. Ahem.
Also, the book isn't happening. No real writing is happening. Days are passing in the worst possible way: unnotably. Reading Juno's tour diary does not help the situation. Gah.
Would very much like to venture forth east o' the mountains and do some riding at some point this weekend.