Olympia - it's not just for the Olympics anymore

I spent the past week in Olympia, or "Oly" as we WA State types like to say. Vic's parents were on a romantic getaway, but we were on an unromantic getaway to said Vic's childhood home to take care of the 17-year-old cat that they call "cat" because her real name, Garfield, is so distasteful to everybody. This cat ain't eating lasagna. We had to feed her Catlax to keep her, uh, regular.

I imagined, as I do, hopelessly, that the time would be a wonderful renaissance of creative activity for me. That I would not be distracted and would barrel down and get some last minute writing going. Not so. I did study the four-act structure of the hour long drama, however, watching episode upon episode of '24' season one and wishing that David Palmer's wife would D-I-E. No matter what I do there is no escaping who I am. I long to be an artist but I just can't seem to rise above. Poor Jack Bauer.