Since my last post most of my free time at home has been devoted to finishing video games. I haven’t actually finished any others as of yet, but I am diligently applying myself to the task. At the moment I’m focusing rather intensely on a single RPG that I borrowed almost two years ago. I’ve decided that it is most important for me to finish it ASAP so that I may return it to it’s rightful owner… who probably thinks it’s never coming back, or at this point may not even remember that it’s missing. I’m doing my best to finish it before I fly north in about 17 days, but if I don’t manage by then the console will probably be making the trip with me.

Today I finished a game that I started more than a year to go.

This is good news.

Now I have at least half a dozen that need to follow suit.

Twice now, within the past two weeks, I’ve been mistaken for being of high school age. Now I’m aware that my family has excellent genetics and that none of us look our actual ages, but there is no possible way I look that much younger. I’m not really complaining, because it could be worse: I could look older than my age. So I just hope that my youthful appearance lasts through more than my twenties. Still, I think the universe has hiccupped because I do not look like a teenager.

So I’ve decided I’m going to start adding descriptive words to all the dishes I cook. I’m going to start out small, with names like ‘Killer Spaghetti’ and ‘Toxic Soup,’ but I’m hoping to slowly work my way up to BIG ridiculous names that don’t actually describe the dish accurately and will make the majority of people cringe.

Driving around Richardson I noticed something peculiar … lots of 2 ft. tall white poster board gingerbread people hovering around street corners. It’s a little creepy. When I saw the first two I really didn’t think much of it at all, but then I noticed three mingling together while stopped at a traffic light. They were everywhere! There were so many of them I really wished I had thought to count them. Whatever the number it definitely seems like we’re being taken over. I’m considering staying indoors while the chaos reigns outside. I just hope I don’t wake up one morning to find both Paul and Chester replaced with the two-dimensional-slightly-festive creatures, or worse yet, walk outside to discover I’m the only real person left in the whole of Richardson.