Pink Feathers

We finished up a fabulous weekend with glitter and spark and a pink feather boa. My very studly hubby bought me a gift certificate to iTunes and set it up for me with his own credit card for further purchases. I tell you, it's really lovely having a sugar daddy, and that iTunes world is pretty suite. We also grilled out in the sticky July heat and clucked as hens do with our good friends, prevailed in the sun on an adventure to the Dairy Queen, led an expedition through an exhausting spin class without air conditioning (that's right villainous YWCA, I am indestructable), and ate at Chipotle like monsters.

It looks like my naked co-worker is heading out the door in less than three weeks, she will be dearly missed. She leaves amidst chaos; soon we may be taking on Crazy Bow-Tie Man (rotating thusly) and High-Pitched Screaming Woman (joining our lab after a show-down with her previous prof). I personally prefer the naked simplicity of my naked co-worker but I guess I will grimace and bear the potential discomfort of my new environment. My naked co-worker will not leave without making her mark; in addition to urinating all over the lab she has broken most of our equipment, personally offended almost everyone (especially Crazy Bow-Tie Man), and outright refused to be productive for several months. Yet we will all be confused and lost without her; the lab may shut down to lament her loss for at least an afternoon while we go to a St. Paul Saints minor league baseball game. Maybe crazy bow-tie man and high-pitched screaming woman will toss in some of their own new flavor and excitement and we'll all be able to recover somehow.

Meanwhile I continue to sweat through this outrageous heat wave and hope that I will someday make it back to Dairy Queen where the heavenly Crunch Cone prolongs my survival.