May 2004

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Oh dear. I got a laugh today when I checked my referrer logs. There's a website called Savvy Cooking. Within the site, there's a page called Cooking Tip, which looks to be a page of links.

And the very first link on the page? To me. More precisely, to the current entry page for this site. If you were to go there while this entry is the current one, it would bring you right back here. (I'll wait while you try it...)

The text on their page, which presumably shows their readers what they'll get when they click a link, is the first bit of an entry from September of 2000, about the time my mother was fixing dinner and accidentally grabbed the grits instead of the cornmeal.

That entry is titled, "A Cooking Tip." I can easily figure out how they got there.

And not confusing the grits with the cornmeal is good advice. Too bad they didn't do an exact link to the entry.

May 9 - later

Joys of the day:

Waking to find e-mail from a friend that was so beautiful and so loving it made me cry.

Realizing the tears were washing away a lot of frustration, and not trying to quell them.

Getting to a much calmer place inside myself.

Taking a few minutes to find exactly what I needed as I ran errands.

Getting late afternoon e-mail from same friend, this time making me laugh.

A peaceful evening.

Remembering the joys.

May 9

I was thinking about something this weekend---why it is that I haven't named a name the times I've complained about a woman who I think may be the next best thing to Kaycee Nicole. The reason is actually quite simple. This woman doesn't have a website. She's only telling her tale to a fairly small group of people, all of whom are capable of analyzing it on their own.

Rereading the entry linked above reminded me of something a friend said a few years ago. My friend was working in Washington, DC, as a waitperson in a restaurant on DuPont Circle. The shift manager was a new person to the job, and was trying his best to intimidate those he was to manage.

My friend got particularly tired of the tactic, and, as he told me, he said to the manager, "You don't scare me with your bitchiness. I know the biggest bitch on the east coast---she's one of my best friends." He was, of course, talking about me.

I was flattered. And the manager got the hint.