the blog doth protest too much

It is Saturday. Thoughts are scattered. Thoughts have attempted to scatter their random selves from mental to virtual form, however The Blog (and the Photoblog - Brazil pics still loading) has been unresponsive (or The Blog server, rather). But it loves me, I'm sure. It can reject my posts all it likes, but I know that it is merely employing the "if you love something set it free" (set is free, refuse to see it, change your number, whatev) tactic just to keep me coming back. And here I am.

It was a day like any other day. Saturday in The Hague - the mere thought alone sparks FLAMES of excitement, does it not? I'm being facetious; the day was lovely, save for the tropical storm that seemed to strike at the exact moment I was taking my freshly coiffed and labouriously straightened hair to brunch. Damn humidity.

Frankly I was just happy to forget the week and everything and anything to do with the letters PSWC. Talk about FOAD. Further discussion with Boss is essential, as should my professional life continue to be ruled by database entry and heathen Congress Mistresses long overdue for retirement, there be trouble ahead. The uneasiness simply lies in the fact that two publications will take priority next week, and they are attention hogs, like the greedy kid at the birthday party who has three pieces of cake and then sifts through the M&Ms with sticky little paws to find all the red ones.

One month until I launch into another barrage of travel, and COME HITHER I SAY! Frankly I feel more at home not at home; to find my clothes actually hanging in a closet rather than shuffled into some space-saving corner of a suitcase is foreign (pun intended). So, I will venture forth again, back to Canada for the first time in a year, after one MUCH anticipated stopover in NYC to revel in the all-engrossing excitement that La Pomme Grande has to offer. I have been told drinks at the W are already booked; W-me.

But post-Winnipeg those four little afore-mentioned letters (PSWC, for those not paying full attention) will drag me south to the Lone Star State for a fun-lovin' time with the Pharmaceutical Scientists in San Antonio. Not only am I stuck there for 6 days lacking a fun travel companion, I do not look forward to the fried and meaty food ubiquitous to the South. My next task is to scope out the trendy/healthy/FAB-AND-A-HALF San Antonio restaurants to visit, where the walls are all one colour, the lighting is Danish, the furniture is new-age-retro and the champagne is free-flowing (or expense account flowing, deeeelightful).

But I look past October to November, when I will return to Barcelona, one year after my first Return to Barça. And where are we after a year? All the way back? Time will tell. But there will be FAAH GSP-Myr times like always.

And then...CHRISTMAS in Porto, where the SP's of GSP will have a Canadian Foster Child for the holidays, where there is little chance of developing the feeling of hunger during the entire week.

And now my thoughts are getting too far ahead for the amount of work that must come in between. Life is a series of good times strung together by the banalities of survival; one can just hope the strings are short.

(How very pseudo-zen. Do I smell incense? Oh wait that's my toast burning...)

We now return to your regularly scheduled programming. Good night, and have a pleasant tomorrow.