constance | Going to Georgia.

Four things I love:

My coworker R, who, when I spoke up at a meeting this morning saying hey, I'd love to learn to drive a forklift, actually took me seriously, and gave me an hour-long lesson in the warehouse. I can now drive a forklift. No power in the 'verse can stop me!

The barbecue sauce I was given today, consisting seemingly entirely of vinegar and pepper. My coworker J. says I look as though I've taken up chewing tobacco, carrying this jar of viscous brown sludge around with me, but I don't mind, because I know it's barbecue sauce, for one thing, and for another, I think carrying a spittoon-like thing accessorizes my new career as a forklift operator nicely.

Office supplies, which I am reminded of my love every now and then as I go diligently searching for something I need in the catalogs, and then wind up getting so distracted that I can't remember quite what I was looking for in the first place.

This lyric, which my iPod played randomly today: The most remarkable thing about coming home to you is the feeling of being in motion again; it's the most extraordinary thing in the world. The whole song captures that feeling of being immobilized in life, and then set free, and even if it weren't one of the most beautiful songs in an astonishing shall-we-say-oeuvre, it would mean something to me, because that feeling of letting go of the gun, that is how I'm feeling these days, and it really is most extraordinary. The very best thing.

Happy holidays to me. Happy holidays to you.