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That's what I do all day. I be writing. Of course, the websites I'll be writing will be professional, but this is what I want to write. This is what I will think of in my head while I'm trying to capture the personality of your firm.

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It was a good, long weekend. Since weekends are now blocks of time for me that will bring pure joy instead of just another day off, I'm trying to live them up. I've decided, for sure, that they should be three days instead of two days long. That would only be fair.

Shannon, Henry, and I watched the Twins get their asses handed to them on Friday, but I had a good time in right field just because the drunk men behind us decided to harass the Nationals right fielder Ryan Church. Poor guy committed an error and dropped two fly balls. Drunk guys responded with That's gonna be on Sports Center, Church! And If that was a softball you would've caught it, Church! And I laughed so hard I think a little dome dog mustard came out of my nose. Before long our entire section was like WOO! CHURCH! Love you! It just made us feel better since our hometeam sucked it up.

On Saturday David and I finally finished putting our house together. Boxes are no longer in the living room, but in the garage. The kitchen is full of unpacked utensils. We still don't have cable, because somehow calling seems like too big a chore, but we've been stretching out on his long, comfortable couch to watch movies. We drove around the area a bit, finally found the lake, a better way to get to Target. And while driving, David made me pull over the car so he could chase some geese, including little furry gray goslings that ran in circles while the bigger geese hissed through their black beaks and spread their wide wings. It was cute for a number of reasons.

On Sunday we drove up to Albertville Friendly City Days, which is exactly like the parade scene in Drop Dead Gorgeous: people lining a street for the parade, the humidity and heat seemingly lifting the black tar off the ground and into the thick air, cigarettes, candy in the street, You betchas as far as the ear can hear. Trashy chic. We visited the carnival, where the ferris wheel was broken, walked down to my dad and his cooler of MGD Light/Pepsi/too much ice, and watched my old marching band do the exact same routine they did seven years ago, when I was in the band. Awesome that I remember that, huh? I said Here comes the horn flare! And then it came.

I got sunburned. My shoulders are red and stiff.

And today I went back to work for my first full week. The days, fortunately, go by fast. I write and format and write. I get feedback from my editor. It's like workshop, except I don't know as much about what I should be doing, so I have to rely on the comments of others instead of thinking the others don't know what they're talking about. So then I just ask Matt.

This morning on the radio I heard, seriously, about a bomb that the army almost created regarding a gas that would make the enemy fall in love with each other. No, no, I said seriously! In forcing the enemy to fall in love with each other, the army felt they could more easily defeat them. The 7 million dollar budget was not approved and, as I understand it, never will be. But I plan to do some research on this bizarre warfare, and if it's legit, writing a poem about it. That's the only reason I'm telling you. So I don't forget.