suspend

It's me! Your old friend Jernal. I think you'd have to be a constant and close reader of my blog to catch any of these not-that-funny jokes. But all obscure joking aside, hello. Good morning. I am giving it the old college try and attempting to quit caffeine. So it will be a slower morning, which is preferred. Especially with this fog. It is so foggy outside right now. Grays and browns and creams. The whole world/Orem looks like an Andrew Wyeth painting. Except for that whole eye sore known as State Street. If Wyeth had painted Orem's State Street, however, it would have turned out haunting and iconic. Just like me. Jernal: Haunting and Iconic. <--- Joke. I am not Jernal, I am not haunting (yet), and I am not iconic. But I am caffeine-free.

Other things I am: I am determined to eat more bananas. You'd think I eat plenty of them due to banana phone pics or whatevs, but I don't. ALTHOUGH if I look at the environmental impact of bananas, maybe I shouldn't eat more/any of them. I ate a banana phone yesterday and felt like a superhero. My hands/fingers also seemed to hurt less, which may have had nothing to do with the banana, but it also could have had everything to do with the banana. I could just take potassium pills. Pills for every meal. Caffeine pills. Wait, no! Scratch that!

Two paragraphs in and all you know is that I am attempting to drink less caffeine and eat more bananas. I am nothing if not wildly fascinating. So that I do not go on and on and on about other trivial matters, let me quickly get them out of the way in the form of a list. A short list.

*I am reading Rebecca and it is so indulgent and addicting and a perfect book for this foggy Wyeth day.
*No more dreams about my exes, okay subconscious? It's been quite the gift, but I don't want to accept anymore of your gifts. Give me back my dreams of Woody, please.
*I have a freakin' cold sore and I feel like a freakin' leper.
*Will be going to the bookstore in less than an hour. Will spend money I do not have buying books I do not need. Well, I do need the books, but there is this little socialist place around the block that lets me check out any and every book I want. Even the ones with sinister housekeepers and mysterious predecessors.
*I should go make myself presentable for the sales associates at Barnes. Please excuse me now while I attempt to cover up this cold sore with a banana phone.