Last night I chatted on the phone with Charming But Goofy Lawyer Boy (CGLB) and laughed for the first time all day. I laughed so hard I had tears streaming down my face and could barely talk.



I did laugh just as hard about a week ago, when we were doing our little backroads tour around Lake Ponchartrain and Sexy Blue-Eyed Boy turned the alligator potholder he’d just bought into a puppet and made it dance to soul music.



But we all know how I heart SBEB for exactly that reason, because he’s so damn funny, and plus, I’ve known him for years.



I’ve only been out with CGLB once and still, I was looking forward to talking to him on the phone. Not in an “I-have-such-a-crush-on-him-I’m-so-nervous-kind-of” way, but more in a “hmm, I wonder what amusing things CGLB will have to say?” kind of way.



And he did not disappoint. It was the best I felt after a long hard day, talking to this boy I hardly knew, and am trying not to have any hopes for (but of course, hopes are springing up like mushrooms on a wet Seattle day).



Meanwhile, now that freakin’ Saturn has left my house for the next twenty-nine years, THANK YOU, I am working harder than ever on my writing, training to climb Mt. Rainier, making a monumental effort to become, ahem, “organized,” and, of course, still juggling a variety of would-be amours.



Just last week, for example, I noted, with great delight, that directly across the hall from me works a hunky blonde South African with a charming accent and nice legs. He stopped by my office to chat about the fact that my coworkers had festooned my office with Mardi Gras decorations while I was in New Orleans.



I waited impatiently for him to come chat with me again, or at least look my way, and yesterday he did. After my stoned (I swear I could smell marijuana on his breath) coworker stood in front of my door loudly proclaiming about how, if I went to climb Mt. Rainier, I would “never come back,” South African Boy came over to ask me all about the climb, in the process telling me how he likes to hike and is always looking for people to hike with. AHEM.



OK, you see how boring I get when things are looking up? I swear. The psychiatrist warned me about this. “Country singers write their best songs when they’re depressed, you know,” he told me, before writing up a prescription for more pharmaceuticals to make me less depressed.



Yeah well. I have better things to worry about than my boring prose, like what am I going to wear today? It will be hard to top yesterday’s sex kitten Catholic schoolgirl outfit, which had every developer in sight doing a double-take, so I probably shouldn’t even try.