"Was that a case of tourette syndrome with my name attached?"

And the quotable for Neil's 26th proved to be the gentleman at the bar who had a severe case of tourette syndrome. The key word? Neil.

Every five seconds...his name was shouted. And the more we laughed.

And, we had glo bracelets, margaritas and Annie Lenox...and Wyclef Jean.

Happy Birthday Old Man. (Those are actual balloons en route to Neil's office.)

my day was green and full of happiness

Once a month, in an effort to be environmentally friendly and save some money, our office provides us with a "green day," in which we can all work remotely from our homes. It's so fantastic, I can't even express the happiness it brings me.

And in the midst of working from Neil's green velvet-ish couch, Kate sent me this fantastic article -

Here it is - enjoy.

http://www.thestranger.com/seattle/the-different-kinds-ofpeople-that-there-are/Content?oid=1206006

The slacking MUST stop

Yesterday morning, as I opened my eyes to the bright Arizona sun on Neil's fake velveteen couch, which has become my bed for the past month, I was immediately unhappy...very unhappy. I scrunched my eyes back closed. Owwww, that didn't help. Open them again. Owwwwwwwwww. I was ill.

My head was pounding from the front forehead area straight through to the back of my skull where the nape of my neck connects. My chin burned. My teeth and jaw ached - my ears and nose stung, like brutally so. This was miserable. What was this?

I proceeded to be completely worthless all day long, gruntng and rolling from side to side in pain while Neil waited on me, then laughed at me, poked me, snapped pictures and subsequently posted them on facebook (one picture of which, I've included for entertainment purposes)- capturing my misery every step of the way. Seinfeld provided a steady background noise. Was it a hangover? I think not, as I only had a few beers the night before - no more than usual, at least. Was it a 24 hour spell of every terrible feeling of sickness compounded into one? Meah.

It's over now. I woke this morning, my head still hurt, but significantly less so and enough which I can blog, drink coffee and later, lay out with Meggie at the pool.

I am still baffled, however. By far, in the top 5 sickest ever.

Today will be spent apartment shopping with Neil (we've found several month-to-month that will enable a quick move, say - to Panama - if necessary), poolside lounging and possibly shopping for a new purse...also with Neil.

And tomorrow - green day! Also known as - working from home. Yesssss! So far, 24 has been interesting.

Chronicles of a Homeless Bag Lady. Peculiar Neighbors and Epicurean Delights

I've been back for a little over a week from Panama and I honestly, can't wait to return. Without going into gory detail, work has been busier and simulatenously less engaging than ever. However, while here I have found a way to find joy with my new neighbors.

For starters, there's a blind woman who lives next door to Neil. I find it appropriately intriguing that when she comes home at night, she skillfully slides her key into the lock and marches full speed into her house without turning on the lights. Granted, she doesn't need the lights, but it still strikes me as crazy. She lives her life, literally, in the dark. Fortunately/unfortunately, you can always hear her coming by her belching and determined stomps. Approximately every ten stomp, this woman burps and then chuckles in the direction of her guide dog, as if to blame the dog for the burp. As described by Neil this woman "burps her way to success." The success story, has yet to be determined.

There's also a cave man who lives across the courtyard. He emerges weekly with an unbuttoned flannel shirt, hair to the floor and a bag of trash to take to the dumpster. I'm assuming he's living off of social security?

The most perplexing neighbor, however, is one we lovingly and insultingly call "Slow Mover." I am, every day, more spylike and perplexed by this 200 lb. + African American woman in her mid 50's. It takes her, and I kid you not, approximately ten to 15 minutes to cross her living room. And it's PAINFUL to watch. She has a driver who comes to get her several times a week. It takes no less than an hour for her journey of 100 to 150 feet from her door to the parking lot. I mean, I've run to the store and come back and she's still in transit. All the while, the driver waits by the van with the sliding door open and ready... notably frustrated by the speed.

The other day as Neil was balancing boxes and obviously packing the place up, the Slow Mover popped up behind him and asked in a southern drawl, "Are you moooooovin'?" The first thing about this is that it was obvious Neil was moving and the question was just plain stupid. But the second oddity is that the Slow Mover QUICKLY appeared. Based on previous stalking of the Slow Mover, it would take her at least half an hour to travel the distance she had managed to come towards Neil's door. So it's just perplexing. How did she suddenly speed up?

Surprised, Neil quickly muttered, "yeah," and ducked into his apartment. For the next half hour, Slow Mover made her way back across the courtyard and into her apartment. More to come on the beloved SM.

To top things off, three stray cats reside in the courtyard. One is the size of a lion and hideously orange. Yesterday, it managed to dart into Neil's apartment as we were carrying groceries in. I immediately leaped onto a chair and commanded that Neil kick it out. To my surprise and delight, Neil was eager to kick the monster cat out and in the process, insulted and shook his first at the feline.

So I guess it's bearable. Doesn't hurt that I'm being cooked gourmet meals each night and nutritious breakfasts each morning. Tonight - an incredible southwest salad complete with roasted jalepenos, peppercinis, kidney beans and seasoned chicken. And yes, that's a bottle of Chianti in the background. :)