All right, then. I'm out of "Melrose Place" rehab and ready to resume blogging. I no longer care about the Jane-Michael-Sydney-Kimberly dynamic or the Allison-Billy-Amanda-Jake-Jo ripple effect. I will simply live now like Matt, who pretty much kept out of the whole mess. Except when Michael got him the job at the hospital. Shooo-wheee.

But I digress. And confess. I can't blame "Melrose Place" for my lack of blogging lately. That mostly gets chalked up to the fact that very little has been happening. Also, the only reason I haven't watched MP lately is because Geoffrey's parents have been in town and providing much more wholesome things to do. What I'm saying is I might not be completely cured.

Today's theme, I've decided, is waste.

Waste of time and energy: Trip this morning to the New Zealand embassy to get our marriage license paperwork filed. Involved waking up super early, lest we be late, and wandering around a lot, since we were walking from a distant Metro station and Mapquest's directions suck. Despite our best laid plans, we got lost and were late (only a little), but it made me very stressed, since we all know how much I loooove being lost. And late. Once we got there, they weren't terrifically friendly. The lady shoved us toward the nearest table (not even in an office) in some corner, whomped her stamp on the bottom of the form, and handed it back. Apparently the embassy, despite what we believed, does not deal with the paperwork from there, so our hope that this trip would save us one to some country courthouse in New Zealand the day before the wedding was for naught. Not sure what the purpose of going to the embassy was at all, come to think of it, as they couldn't even answer the few little questions we had about some blanks on the form. As we were leaving, wise old Geoffrey saith: "It's good to know bureaucracy is alive and well everywhere." Amen.

Waste of breath and brain cells: Dealing with the following conversation with a co-worker:

ME (talking to to a different, less annoying co-worker): Yeah, so anyway, turns out the Embassy was on a totally different part of Observatory Circle than where Mapquest led us.
HER: What Observatory Circle?
ME: Um, the circle ... around the Naval Observatory.
HER: There's no circle around the Naval Observatory!
ME: Um, yes.
HER: No there's not!
ME: Um, yes. I was there. For most of the morning. It's there, trust me.
HER: On Massachussetts Avenue?
ME: Yeah, Massachussetts Avenue is kind of part of it for a while, and then there's an actual street that bends off called Observatory Circle.
HER: No there's not.
ME: Um, yes. The British Embassy is on it ...
HER: Yeah! I drive by that every day on the way home.
ME: Well, yeah, Observatory Circle is right there.
HER: No it isn't. I've never seen a circle there.
ME: OK. Yes, you must be correct. Maybe I was not there after all.

Why do these conversations happen, I ask you? And you know they happen, we've all had these arguments. Usually not since preschool, though. Most people just either realize they must be mistaken about the lack of existence of something the other person quite credibly experienced, or they continue with their doubts but just gracefully keep their doubts to themselves instead of making the person feel like a liar. Or crazy.

Oh man, I had one more installment to this theme, but now I've forgotten it and am feeling sheepish because perhaps it is too strong to call two items a theme. But I've done it now, and you'll just have to accept that this is the theme.

In other, non-waste and far better news, Geoffrey's parents were in town this weekend, lots o' fun. They are genuinely good people, in addition to being fun and nice, and we had a really good time. I took Geoffrey's mother to the Library of Congress, which has this beautiful -- I mean, really breathtaking -- ceiling that is all mosaic in this elaborate scheme that incorporates the names of authors, scientists, philosophers, etc. After spending time there, we grabbed lunch and a drink. I hadn't gotten a chance to spend much time, certainly not one-on-one, with G's mom before, so that was lots of fun. I got lots of dirt -- in the form of stories from his childhood -- on him now. Pay me one American dollar and I'll tell all.

EXTREMELY IMPORTANT MUSIC NEWS: Lyle Lovett, my husband, is coming out with a new CD. Of new songs. I'm having chest pains I'm so excited. This has been rumored a long time (considering his last album of orginal stuff came out in 1996, the rumors have had plenty of time to be born, get old, die, be reincarnated, born again, saved, delivered and die again), but it appears real now. Billboard says so. It's going to have the best album name of all time, which is "My Baby Don't Tolerate." It comes out Sept. 30. Which is 64 days away.

In related news, I'm going to see Lyle in concert tomorrow night. It will be Geoffrey's first time to go with me, so I hope he's not to alarmed when I jump onstage and start humping. It's just what true fans do.

LISTENING TO: Have rediscovered my HOT HOT HEAT CD. Very fun songs, but with some substance, too. Hooray for Hot Hot Heat.