When I type, "si" in the address bar, it goes to this page; this format is neither https: (it never logs one out — mailchimp and wordpress do at the drop of a hat or the change of an hour) nor gets cleared during "reset Safari."
Who is silly enough to think that a safari can be undone? That lion pride saw you, those giraffes noted the Jeep, and the birds did not care, as is their nature.
What can I do to receive better? I give what some note is plenty, and, of course, there is more, but I need it for neurotic responses to "laundry monsters," bathroom dust-bunnies, and dried random splatters (we have hard water here, recall), and for sleeping.
Where(as) I hear praise and feel happy, more and more often I mostly see through it to the response-action that I take as a result — and it amounts to my being led along an "I love you but I beat you," go-to-a-shelter-type relationship.
Why shouldn't I be looking for a mere safe-haven, a "screw 'dreams'" secure position … I can think of a number of places I could be fine; it's good to know I've ruled out anything with a G involved in its pay structure.
How they, by the way, want to inform me of whatever is interesting. I suppose I should go pick up the cert. mail … I used to know the tech. term for this on the "inside," tee hee, flushed, yes, unless I go into a trance … (I should go get it just in case it's a real issue and not just a personnel one).
Still, I know they haven't processed my resignation docs yet, and so, I think I shall wait for the next cycle of bureaucracy. It's funny, car or no in the driveway, the postal carrier never knocks, just leaves the pale orange card in with the other letters, catalogs, and junk.
Even if we had had a government shut-down, the mail was going to stay open, they said. Parks, no, too expensive, I'm sure, but the in-debt USPS has its own revenue stream (donates to the Olympics, etc.).
I don't know how the IRS can stop processing mail altogether, anyway (as my former colleagues' jobs would have been furloughed had Congress and Obama, et. al. not come to an "agreement"), since their legitimacy rests in post-marks (and you get 2-3 days' grace anyway); the news is saying 18th, but we were told 19th. Isn't that interesting? Did it change? Still, you get a moment or two after whichever is the date.
We went to the Asian market a half-block northeast of the City Market. The goal was chili-garlic paste, but we got $20.35 (tax included) of sauces and 5 non-American ramen/rice noodle packets … and an instant coconut almond-flavored agar (seaweed/non-hoof gelatin) dessert packet, and some soba noodles.
Then we re-parked and bought $4's worth of cayenne. The Al-Habashi scooper did not question me.
Then we drove to 20th and then Southwest Boulevard to La Esquina so I could take photographs/ see what I was editing about.
A friend of ours was in staffing, so we stayed longer than expected, talking; the Styrofoam peanut volcano was clogged. The motor was running, but nothing was spewing. It was hot in there; an unexpected delight were the found (and framed), generally small and invariably black-and-white or sepia or even silvery (technical term #576 not found) photographs of disasters. Burned houses, overturned stone homes, fires, crashes, people running to under white parasols, and people running from, disasters.
You have to get gardening knee-pads to view them, however; or, if you are a child or don't mind being uncomfortable while you try to rubber-neck (like on the highway, you have to divide your attention), you can crouch and scoot from image to image.
Did I mention that our chair didn't forward an invoice … 3 weeks ago … and now, well, let's just say, "Hmm, I haven't been not-paid in a long time now, it seems. I'm doing my part … why …?"
Anyway, at least I've been flossing for a number of days (a higher ratio than can be recalled; look, no double-dip dental recession for her!).