ZOMG, this category is so boring and mainly for administrative purposes. I wrote over 1000 posts using Blogger between November 2000 and September 2002, and when I imported them into Movable Type back in 2002, I stuck them all here.
Today I took the first step toward securing a monthly telecommuting freelance gig that would pay my rent (and then some).
Today I went to my second African dance class.
Today I drove for 2.5 hours, travelling a grand total of perhaps 15 miles.
Today I almost got into an accident with a FedEx truck. On my bike.
Today I sunburned my ass. I did not notice this until tonight.
Today I wished my mom lived in Los Angeles.
T. has posted a very interesting article about the French view of women playing soccer. When I was visiting her last year, I poo-pooed her when she talked about how the French would freak out when she mentioned that she’d played soccer for most of her life. “Oh whatever,” I replied. “You’re so over-sensitive, T!”
Then, over dinner with two very fantastic sweet French friends, I watched soccer come up in conversation, and T. said something about having played. Then I watched the conversation become awkward and uncomfortable, both Antoine and Sylvie suddenly becoming very interested in their cous-cous. It was like someone had just made a tres inappropriate joke, and our French friends were trying to graciously overlook it. Very interesting.
Be sure to check out the comments for some great dialogue!
I met two hoopers at Breast Fest on Saturday, friends of friends who’d I’d heard of, but never met. They’re both involved with Hoop Revolution (get it?), and they sell hoops online! I wish their site had more photos of the actual hoops they make, because I had a chance to play with a couple this weekend and they were gorgeous. And they’re having a workshop in LA in a few weeks, and I am so going.
Last night, while entertaining two friends, I went to go step out onto the balcony to retrieve something I’d left there. I opened the sliding glass door, and then walked full-force into the sliding screen, knocking it off its hinges and almost off the balcony completely. It was a moment of shame.
Isn’t she wonderful
Isn’t she precious
Less than one minute old
I never thought through love we’d be
Making one as lovely as she
But isn’t she lovely made from love
Isn’t she pretty
Truly the angel’s best
Boy, I’m so happy
We have been heaven blessed
Want a peek at the first draft of my upcoming blogging article for the Weekly?
Oops. Too late. You missed it. I’ll let you know when/if it’s printed.
Hey there. I'm Ariel Meadow Stallings, a native Seattleite who's written my way up and down the Left Coast. Electrolicious is where I post daily randomata, but I also write for a living. My first book, Offbeat Bride, was published last year.
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