In Which I DON'T Talk about the Meaning of Life

Hello there.

Hi.

I guess I haven't made an appearance in more than a week. Which, big holiday notwithstanding, is unusual for me. Even lately. When I'd much rather stare off into space than write a blog entry. Not even thinking about anything. Just staring.

In the past week I've wanted desperately to just CHANGE THE FREAKING SUBJECT ALREADY. I'm done with this religion thing on my blog. For now. So can't we talk about something a little, uh, lighter? Like shoes? Or TV? Or, I don't know, hair? Or maybe I'll just post some pictures. The ol' blogging standby. Pictures. Yeah.

My first office party as an office party-planner was a success. People seemed to have a good time, even though there was no alcohol involved. Which, for advertising, is really saying something, I think. But there was food. Oh, there was food. And, my personal contribution, streamers. And although the whole thing had a slight air of self-conscious sarcasm, as in "we really could go overboard here with the cheesy decorations, but I think that we'll do just enough to let you know that we care but not so much that we lose our cynical edge," as in the centerpieces were printed off the company printer mere minutes before the fete, it somehow worked.

Miraculously. (I've decided that if I start overusing the word, it'll start applying more in my life.)

Got off track. No religion. Need pictures.

The party's official name was the Fall Feast Your Face Fest (to be as politically correct as possible, we couldn't even include the word "Thanksgiving"), and its colors, accordingly, were red, orange, and yellow. It verged a little on Ronald McDonald, but I think people respond well to primary colors. Brings out the kid inside each of us. Or something.

The buffet in progress. That's my mac and cheese, there, in the white casserole dish. Later in the day I was called Martha Stewart because of my cooking and, uh, decorating. I think it was meant to be a compliment, but I didn't really take it that way.

And then we feasted our faces. Or I did, at least. Brad just stuck out his tongue.

And everyone really loved taking an extra hour for lunch.

And then I posed with a crayon called Spring Green that someone gave me.

And I'll refrain from saying "A good time was had by all," mostly because I really hate passive voice, even when used ironically. But yeah. You get the idea.

Now. Back to all that staring into space.