Just Another Day in Paradise

Ragweed. I'm allergic to it. Because it's so dry here in Oxford, the ragweed is growing like... a weed. Go figure. I sneezed eleven-seventy times this morning before lunch. Then I took a Chlor-Trimeton and it made me feel a little loopy, causing me to throw my already-chewed piece of bubble gum into the toilet instead of the trash can. But, the show muts go on. And while I can't promise you this blog post will make a lot of sense, I'm trying...

The cement has been poured. As of suppertime yesterday. Here are the pictures to prove it. We are finally getting somewhere. Eventually this whole thing will be more houselike, I'm told. Patience, darlin', patience.

Here in O-town, school is just about to start. The city is slammed with Porsche SUVs from Dallas and Atlanta and Mississippi counties I've never heard of, much less visited. I huddle in my apartment, trying to stay cool, avoiding the traffic whenever possible. For those who haven't been here in a while, the population of the city more or less doubles when the students roll into town. Once again I'm feeling old, since this year's entering freshmen were born in--gasp!--1988. Holy horseraddish. I was twelve. Around that time (actually, a couple years earlier) 626 was the setting of my first and only slumber party. Here's a picture for proof. Check out that awesome TV. I remember when that thing got struck by lightning when Dad was out playing boure and Mom and I were watching Murder She Wrote.

I had a ball at the sumber party. Dad rented Harry and the Hendersons from Video Library for us to watch. "Great" movie about a Big Foot this dorky family adopts and tries to teach how to behave a normal human being. Sort of a Griswold family-meets-Chewbacca type deal. Slim pickins in Hollywood during those years, I must say.

Well people, it's Thursday. If it were up to me, I'd start my weekend now. Adios muchachos.