Twice now, I've seen the same guy on campus. Once in a car, and then again yesterday crossing the street in front of me. He is the spitting image of Marc Blucas, only shorter. When I saw him, I thought, "Look! It's Riley," and I had to smack down the hand that automatically popped up to wave. There are so many things wrong with that, not the least of which is that not only do I NOT really like the guy, but he doesn't exist...


The Senior Associate Dean took all the lowly staff assistants (read: bitches) out for lunch today at a relatively new restaurant on the square. It was astounding - I had a turkey sandwich with avacado salsa and sauted apples with a side of bleu cheese coleslaw. Yummmmm (and one of the ladies said she had their coleslaw recipe, which I am so getting). I don't understand why people do not eat things. Three people got Caesar salads. Not that I am knocking the Caesar salad, mind you, but it was fairly obvious that they were ordered out of familiarity with the dish rather than a sincere preference for Caesar salad over, say, a spinach salad with fried goat cheese. One of the Caesar-orderers changed her order from a tuna melt, because they asked her how she wanted the tuna cooked (I guess she only wanted it if it was coming out of a can). I'm not really a food snob, or at least not in any conventional sense. Ok, well maybe I am. But I don't hold it against people if they just want to order the Caesar salad because it isn't "weird" - I just feel so badly that they are missing out on so many wonderful things.

And speaking of food - I'm godawful pissed that the restaurant that has the most amazing fried pickles has shut down. I have this burning desire to run around and eat at all the restaurants I love so that I get a good fix before I move to the land of "Fried WHAT!?" And damn you, Alicia, for reminding me about Kalo's fried pickles when they are no longer in existence.
  ¶ 4/25/2003 03:12:00 PM

  I'm back from my weekend trip to New Jersey, less a boyfriend. It has begun.

The first thing I noticed when I stepped off the plane and into the Memphis Airport was that it smelled like Barbeque. That smell, more than the familiar dingy beige walls of the airport I've been coming back to for years, was what clued me in that I was home. That was the first moment that it really hit me. I'm leaving. For real.

Brief though it was, the trip was successful. Assuming the application goes through all right, we have an apartment. Move in date is June 20, which is a little later than I would've wanted it to be, but the best we could do. The good news is that I have a little more time to get my crap together and visit people before I get up there (Paris, it seems, is back on). The bad news is that leaves two months of living 5 states away from the Boy. I will perservere, naturally, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. :) I didn't really get to do much job-hunting, but I did make a bit of headway with one place that I very interested in. And we may have conned Ryan's step-dad and uncle into flying down and driving a U-haul back up. My eyes are alight with visions of the new furniture and fancy window treatments I can buy with the money that would save. I am seriously going to have problems trying NOT to have the new place already decorated 8 times over before I even get up there. Bad Mikkie!

Much catching up to do now at work (I don't know what they are going to do when I am gone), and at lunch I go to get the dog out of jail. It seems like non-stop somethings from here on out.  ¶ 4/23/2003 11:31:00 AM