Bob is on his way back from New Orleans tonight and his plane is delayed. He said if it was after 11pm he would take a shuttle home but I told him I knew I wouldn't be able to fall asleep if I was waiting for him to get home so I'd just come get him. Of course, now I'm sleepy.

I have a bunch of random unrelated notes and I'm going to stick them here in one un-thematically linked entry.

This morning on my walk I came up the hill on Walnut and looked up and there was a buck. Well, I guess actually it's called a spike. I'm not exactly a hunter person. It didn't have actual antlers yet but little nubbins and it stopped and I stopped and we stared at each other. It was huge and just standing in someone's driveway. After a minute it took a half dozen slow steps and then jogged out of my sight and probably down the hill more towards the train tracks where there aren't any houses. As I walked the rest of the way up the hill a woman came out of her house and asked if I saw the deer and pointed up the street and said she saw it come from there.

So what is the proper method to style bangs? When Cha does my hair she flicks her wrist and my bangs look perfect. She could be using a pitchfork and a blowtorch and flick: perfect. I use products and hair dryers and round brushes and they end up looking like stunt bangs from Something About Mary every time.

I know I'm not a parent but I don't understand parents and kids sometimes. I saw some lady walking out of the market tonight and her kid looked perfectly normal except a bit fidgety but it was a boy, maybe 8 years old so not outside of what you might expect and here goes the mom hauling off smacking the poor kid in front of the store where God and everyone (me) could watch. And the kid was kind of big so extra humiliation factor. Then I'm inside the store and the most obnoxious, not-cute, whiny girl is screeching at her Dad to push the cart faster and buy this or that -- clearly a moment where a good smack might have come in handy and the Dad does nothing and for next fifteen minutes everyone in the store gets to listen to this. Can he at least try to quiet her?

Bleu cheese -- I though I hated it. I associate it with this nasty smelling salad dressing my mom made on Saturday nights. But when Bob and I were in Tacoma we had this asparagus dish with a sauce of balsamic vinegar and bleu cheese -- try this at home, seriously, it's the best thing ever. So we've been buying bleu cheese and I've been eating it on crackers and crumbling it on salads and this is like the best food discover since brown betty.

I have some more stuff to write about Angel, because I've watched at least three more episodes since I wrote last. But I'll spare you. But really, it's so painful to watch, knowing where they're going, especially Wesley, and again, knowing how they all end up.