All right, all right. I'll write something real.
The Monday before Christmas, I started my new job. My new-job-that-is-really-my-old-job-just-in-a-new-center. It's great. And amazing. And happy and wonderful. The directors take responsibility for their actions. The caregivers do their job and don't gossip about each other (that I have to hear). And probably best of all, my co-secretary is awesome. She laughs. She's smart. She smiles a lot. And because of all that, I am the same. I don't wear my cranky pants anymore. And my brain feels stimulated from time to time, although I could be doing better on that front.
I finally ordered a new computer. It should be here any day. I have already received the speaker and I am just waiting for the CPU, monitor, keyboard, mouse and, well, everything that isn't the speaker. When I get it, I will post loveliness and happy hearts.
I have been obsessing over Quentin Tarantino films lately. If you've ever met me (which most of you have) you know how it goes: for some reason, something goes off in my brain and suddenly I must know the whole story about an actor, a director, a talk show host, a TV show, and I cannot stop until this thirst is satiated. It's strange, but I'll be honest, enjoyable. Usually. Because usually I can easily find DVDs, footage, books, whatever on the subject. In Okinawa, I am not that lucky. The library is tiny. The video rental places are lame. My husband took Pulp Fiction to the desert with him (selfish!). I think the thing with Tarantino is that he is just so smart and so bizarre. I love smart and bizarre. Well, okay, I've probably worn out everyone's interest in that topic.
Wow. That's really about it.
