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Oh, good. I need a movie to look forward to! I miss the anticipation of the Harry Potter movies so much. People in my area always seemed to dress up for them, so I'd sit in a theater among many young wizards and witches dressed in black robes and eagerly clutching wands beside adults wearing Hogwarts House scarves.
I have nothing to do at the moment so I will open up one of my Harry Potter books to read. And take some pain medicine because I had very energetic dreams last night about serial killers and woke up with my neck in a bizarre position. I dutifully performed my PT exercises, to which my neck cried, "HAH! I laugh at you and your ancestors!" and continued to hurt. It makes me want a neck transplant. Medical science should be able to do those in 2013. It isn't like your neck connects to anything important.
I think I need to write some happy books next year. Or at least some not-so-sad ones. Zombies is depressing me. It's funny how you can start out a book with a certain emotional tone in mind and it totally gets away from you. The Rune series was supposed to be very, very dark, and it didn't turn out that way. It was funny and I hadn't anticipated that. The original concept of Zombies was as rather mindless teens-in-peril fluff, and it didn't turn out that way either. This has so much more darkness. After a certain chapter in Volume IV, I had to take a break from the series for my mental health. Now I'm finishing up Volume V and I think I need another one.
Maybe I'll spend next week writing only demon erotica, in which the demons are harmless sex fiends and nothing bad ever happens to the main characters. My friend says she can't read any erotica I write because we sat together in junior high (seated alphabetically in several classes) and know each other far too well. That makes me wonder if I could read erotica written by someone I know far too well. And what do people do when their family members are the writers? I wouldn't want to read Hot Sexy Time by Mother Panda, or Spanking The Bear by Father Panda. That just gives me a squicky feeling.
And now I've given you a squicky feeling. My work here is done.
I have a terrible habit of letting my characters run waaaaay deeper than they were ever supposed to. A fun little space fantasy turned into an exploration of humanity and everything that entails possible trilogy. All because of a freaking side character I gave a little too much screen time. FML. Not really.
Gay Panda has a bad solution for when the same old recipes start to bore. I simply stop eating. I'll graze on walnuts and bacon when the situation becomes dire and otherwise ignore the fact that my soul is in a body, and a body has to eat in order to retain the soul. That is very annoying indeed. And it makes the people in my life nuts, because going for too long on too little makes me crabby and dizzy. And because my body isn't very reliable at employing its hormones to signal hunger, I often don't connect my bad mood and general malaise to lack of nourishment.
Lady Friend once yelled, "ARE YOU HUNGRY?"
Gay Panda said sulkily, "No."
Lady Friend then yelled, "HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN SINCE YOU'VE EATEN?"
. . . crickets . . .
Gay Panda submitted with no grace. "Fine, then."
But today I am trying to be a mature panda, and thus Googled 'primal recipes' in the hopes that something would catch my eye. I knew nothing would (see previous statement about crabby) and the screen is vaguely swimming, but I stumbled into recipes for BACON PANCAKES and MINI BREAKFAST MEATLOAVES and other good things. I have made my grocery list and now I have to check out my bathroom window for paparazzi before I strip down for a shower so that I don't offend everyone at Whole Foods. And even though it is closing in on dinnertime, I will shuck conventions and make the meatloaves for dinner because I want to put the hardboiled eggs in the middle like the picture shows.
Or I will do that tomorrow. It depends on if the Whole Foods Hot Bar has a tub of its infamous Crusty Yellow Potatoes. Half of me wants to see them there. Half of me does not. I don't know why I flinch at touching a cart handle yet I eat food from a Hot Bar that fifty people could have stuck their nasty, germy paws in before I arrived at the store. I love you anyway, potatoes.
I hope the meatloaves turn out well. I need to be strong for the weekend when I have to do one of my least favorite activities: hike. This is when my work sucks, because research requires it. I already bought snazzy* hiking boots and Lady Friend wouldn't let me buy bear spray.
* Snazzy = the Grimmest Pair of Hiking Boots you ever saw. They are dark. They are a grumpy shape with a petulant tongue. And I love them dearly because they reflect how I feel about what they will be for.
Lady Friend also got boots, but hers have a cheerful, grating orange streak. She loves hiking.