Wow, here I am just sitting at my desk and something smells GREAT. Not in the warm cookie or roast chicken sense, but like a very pretty lady. Its origin is a complete mystery, but one that I can live with for sure ... much better than the pit-toilet thing going on over by the stereo. (If this were a sidebar, about odors in the office place?, the title would be "Dollars and Scents!")

All last week I was away in Yosemite. Not camping or anything like that -- we stayed in a cabin with sheets that got changed by nordic maids every day, swapped for CLEANER sheets, and we had our own bathroom with our very own shower. The only vaguely "roughing it" element was the mouse, dubbed by Jill as "Mousey McTurd", who scrabbled and sorted and twanged the box springs of our beds every night. He also bit things! Here is a list of the things that he chewed his way into:

- A bag of walnuts.
- One applicator-less tampon, found totally denuded of all plastic wrapping, lovingly fanned out and fluffed like the well-tended hair of a troll doll.

It's hard to accumulate hot gossip in Yosemite, so I don't have altogether too much to report, other than we hiked to the tops of many weepingly scenic things, we saw shooting stars and fat Mars, and I wore with a vengeance a truly hideous hat every single second of the day. I also stepped on a chipmunk, but both of us recovered immediately and were able to squeek and run spryly onward.

For some reason it feels like I've been gone way, way longer than a week, I'm totally out of it. Jennifer and Ben broke up? What? I just feel like I would have known if something like that had happened, you know, in my heart? Maybe that's what the crippling calf-soreness of Tuesday through Friday was all about. Clearly I need to listen to my body more. (Shh. Do you hear that? Right now it's admiring the incredible tautness of your berries.)

Anyway I'm back, and last night I went to see Lost in Translation, which really is so good -- a pretty and sensible string of cleanly captured, completely self-identifiable moments. I also laughed harder and out-louder than I have in a long time for just a movie (that's right, not since American Pie). Then I came home and caught the second half of Eight Legged Freaks, a slightly lesser entry in the oeuvre of Scarlett Johansson, though a potent display of her versatility, I think.

And now we're all caught up! Oh, except I just ate some wet sliced turkey that smelled like cat parts. ("Scentsational!") Okay now we're done.

(PS: My diary has officially moved over to my official evany.com website. Let's meet up over there!)

(PS: My diary has officially moved over to my official evany.com website. Let's meet up over there!)