BTW, don't try to read a Jen Lancaster book in order to go back to sleep. It doesn't work. Too amusing. I should have picked up Whitman or The Selfish Gene. I can't get through those two books more than a page's worth before I'm out. I'm reading Lancaster's Bitter is the New Black. Since Trish and I spent four hours in a bookstore when she was VERY pregnant and the two of us nearly completely read through Lancaster's entire Bright Lights, Big Ass, I decided last night at Border's that it was time to read her other two books. Bitter highlights Lancaster's fall from Prada and Trader Joe's to Target and Jewel. I'm not too far in yet, but she's so snotty at the beginning of the book, I can barely stand to read it (good thing I know she's hilarious), and wish to slap her. Up until the part where she goes into the salon to get her hair colored and, it turns out, I'd rather slap the vacuous "girl behind the counter" that they have propped up at the computer. I heart Jen. I'm glad to see I'm not so out of touch with fashion that I don't recognize things like Lacoste, dupioni, cashmere, grosgrain, Neiman, and Michigan Avenue, so I can follow right along with her obsession with the finer things (though financially nutso in my eyes).
The sucky part is it's 52 out right now (heat wave!) though rainy, and I've been itching to get back on the bike after a week of car-driving. Since I can't tell when the insomnia will run out, four wheels seemed more prudent than two; even though motorcycling is what refreshes and enlivens me. No club ride yesterday because, of course, it had to start raining 20 minutes before I would've left the house...and then was rainy and cold the remainder of the day.
My brother installed hand warmers under his grips on his R6 this weekend, and of course, after making me test-drive them, now I need them. If my hands are warm, there's no stopping me.
Anyway, I give me about till sunrise before I'm sleeping on the keyboard. Good thing the keys are flat...