I have to be honest. I just don't know what to write about. Thoughts swirl around, ideas I want to flesh out.

I could be topical:

I'm glad Elian's with his dad. Things should never have gotten so out of hand. The Miami relatives need to get over themselves.

Now will someone please tell me why the first I heard about the shooting at the Washington Zoo was from the journals I read and not the news? I know I pay little attention to mainstream news (preferring to listen to KPFK), but that is absolutely ridiculous. And very sad.

I could talk about my plans for the weekend:

Driving up to Fresno tonight with Mom, sis Teresa and nephew Ryan for sis Lisa's baby shower tomorrw. We're going to share a really nice hotel suite with two double beds and a sofa bed, for which I paid only $89 through Travelocity. I'm looking forward to it very much.

There's always little mental deitrus inspired by things that surround me:

I know that I spend too much money on lunches. I think that I'm being punished for that. Why? Because every time I walk the few blocks to my favorite lunch place (which is way too often) I'm confronted by the glowering visage of John Travolta on a bus shelter.

Hell, I could even talk about the kitties, if I felt like driving anyone away:

Damn if the boys aren't costing me money. Because the kittens were born with ear mites, I've had to pay over $500 this last month and a half in vet bills for shots and cleaning and medicine (dollar amount also includes fixing the little ones). I still need to take all four cats back for follow-up shots and Noel's teeth desperately need to be cleaned. That'll be another few hundred. But at least I don't have to go through the hell that Risa and Joe did a couple of weeks ago when their cat Gracie got sick very suddenly and died within a day or two after they took her to the vet for tests. Very sad.

Instead, I'll talk about my birthday. I know you've all been dying to know how it went...

It started with promise. The night before I had spoken with Risa and she wished me a very happy birthday. Over the weekend I had lunch with a friend, who gave me a lovely vibrating neck pillow. Damn, does it ever come in handy! (Though the tiny little car accident I got in marred the weekend a tad. Don't worry, no damage or injuries, though it was my fault. But after the nice scalding I got from very hot coffee that morning while my adults kitties were at the vet's being treated for ear mites, well, the accident fit the day nicely.) I also spent time with most of my family.

The morning of my birthday Linda sent me a wonderful e-card with the cast from Providence gathered around a birthday cake. We chatted for a few minutes on ICQ, then off to work I went.

I wasn't really expecting anything at work, since I hadn't told many people about my birthday. Besides, I was thinking only about my 1:30pm lunch appointment: meeting Mike Farrell at his office.

Let me backtrack a bit: about a month or so ago I got an e-mail from Linda asking me if I could bid on a M*A*S*H book on eBay for her, since I was already registered and I think (though I'm not sure) that it may be harder for folks overseas to register on eBay. Of course I agreed. Linda then told Mike (no, I don't think we're pals, I just don't feel like typing out his full name) that I had this book I was going to send her and would he mind it if I stopped by his office again and have him sign it? No problem, he said.

Yea! I was going to meet Mike Farrell again, thanks to Linda. Woohoo! So I bid on the book, we won it, and it was delivered to me near the beginning of April. I hunted up Mike's office number and address and called, leaving a message on his voicemail. We ended up playing a bit of voicemail tag, but eventually we set a time. Or I should say that I set a time: he mentioned in his latest voicemail that I could stop by anytime this week and he would probably be in. If he wasn't, then I could leave the book and he would sign it. Well, if you think I would just leave it at that, you obviously don't know me very well. Besides, it's not like I could show up unannounced, now could I?

So I called his number and a man with a familiar deep voice answered.

Me: Hi, may I speak to Mike Farrell? (pretty sure I was speaking to him already)

Deep-Voiced Man: I'm Mike Farrell.

Me: Oh, hi, Mr. Farrell, this is Carol C--. How are you?

Mike: Fine, how are you? (I hear amusement in his voice)

Me: Good, thank you. I was just wondering if it would be ok for me to stop by on Tuesday?

Mike: Yes, that'll be fine.

Me: Around 1:30?

Mike: That's fine. (voice is now fully bemused)

Me: Great, see you then. Bye!

Mike: Bye. (Bemusement shoots from my receiver. Do you know how hard that is to clean up?)

Oddly enough, as the date to meet Mike drew closer, I wasn't all that nervous, unlike last year. It wasn't until I actually got in my car to drive to his office that I was overcome by my usual nervousness (I tend to get nervous very easily). I parked in front of the office building about five minutes early and checked my make-up and actually-styled-hair.

So I get the book and a card that Linda wanted me to give to Mike, go into the building, and take the elevator, doing deep-breathing exercises the whole time. Quite nervous, but not as nervous as last year. Exiting the elevator, I walk down the hall, see the women's restroom and decide to duck in there real quick, but it seems to be locked. I think the world is telling me not to stall any longer. I look at the water fountain that is right near the office door and consider taking a sip, since my mouth is dry, but decide against it (a good decision, as I later find out). And I open the door, which says Farrell/Minoff Productions across the front.

Peering around the door as I open it, I see Mike sitting on the other side of a waist-high room divider, at some sort of table. I know it's not his desk and I wonder if that was there last time. He looks up and smiles. As I enter, I catch sight of a nice-looking young man with blondish close cropped hair and some facial hair. (Do I remember if it's a Van Dyke or just a goatee? Of course not!) The young man is sitting where M. sat last year and wearing a white t-shirt with some design on it and jeans (I think, it could have been shorts). YM looks a little startled to see me.

Be aware that the order and exact wording of some of the dialogue may be a little off. I really suck at this.

Since I don't know if YM knows I'm supposed to be stopping by, my gaze jumps from YM to Mike toYM. Mike stands up. YM looks back at Mike.

Mike: Good, thank you. (Aren't we just so polite?!) Is that Linda's book? (holds out his hand)

Me: Yes. (I move as if I'm going to hand him the book, then I shake his hand instead. Smooth, that's me. Then I take the book out of the protective covering and hand it to him.)

Mike: (reads title) M*A*S*H: The Exclusive, Inside Story of TV's Most Popular Show. Updated to include the final episode. (sits at desk and gets a pen, then flips through book)

Me: I'm so glad the summer hiatus is here. I've been doing far too much paging and I'm looking forward to the rest. (He smiles, stands up and hands me the book. I realize I might have been hovering. Damn, why'd I do that?)

Mike: Thank you. (he glances at the envelope, then places the card on his desk, most likely to read when the goofy girl that is your heroine isn't hovering like some freak fan.)

Me: Yeah, in [Department]. I deal with a lot of invoices, financial stuff. (mock excitment on my face) Really exciting. (Mike smiles.)

Mike: (motions to YM) This is my son, [son's name]. (I turn to YM, who is still sitting at the desk near the door.)

YM: Hi. (He may have said more. I don't remember. Yes, I know, I suck. Apparently the ginko hasn't helped my memory much.)

I take one last look at Mike and smile. He smiles back and says, "Bye." I reply, "Take care," open the door and exit.

After closing the door behind me, I decide that it would be a really good idea to take a sip of water from the water fountain. I bend down, depress the lever (or was it a button?) on the side, and water shoots forcefully from the fountain onto my nice ironed-and-starched-within-an-inch-of-its-life white shirt. Good thing I waited until after the meeting to have some water.

After that, the day kinda went downhill. I was pretty jazzed from the meeting for a few hours, but as quitting time at work neared and I realized that I was just going to go home and spend my birthday night with my cats, I started getting depressed. I thought about calling some friends, then got all defensive, thinking, "If they don't care enough to call me, especially when I always try to keep in touch with them and remember their birthdays, the hell with them!"

I went home, fell deeper and deeper into my cozy little depression and e-mailed Linda with my thoughts and feelings, even though I knew she would probably be sleeping. Then I just watched TV and surfed the net, crying off and on, until about 11pm, when I finally went to bed. Self-pity party at Carol's house!

The next morning someone called my place at 6:30am, but there was no way I was going to answer it, since I was still asleep when the phone rang. When I checked my voicemail later in the morning, I discovered it was Teresa apologizing for not calling me the night before (she was having serious sinus problems). I decided that I would call her after I got to work. I also received a wonderful e-mail response from Linda which made my morning, as well as a quick ICQ chat..

Once I was in my cubicle I saw the message light on. Turns out my friend that I had lunch with on Saturday called to wish me a belated happy birthday. Then A., the owner of my fave coffee place, gave me a free coffee and some advice (he and I have always talked very easily) and my friend L. also called later to wish me a belated happy birthday and suggest we get together next week for dinner and/or a movie. Mom also called me.

There are some other people I wished I had heard from, but all-in-all, not too bad. I've just got to be a bit more patient. I mean, I don't always call on others' birthdays. I try to remember, and I'm usually pretty good with dates, but I've been known to call a day or two later.

Next time I get like that, just smack me, 'k?

It's now time for...

Rob has a new obsession. It's a good thing he works in the mental ward of a university.