So we go to a bar after work to toast someone who is moving on. Some of us are talking about nerds/geeks/dorks and debating whether or not they are the same thing. One guy (the egyptian sidekick, who says i can even say his name, but I won’t) says (something to the effect of) if a guy is 38 years old and has never kissed a girl, I’m sorry, but he is a nerd/geek/dork. My friend (the funny gay one) says (something to the effect of) well yeah, even I have kissed girls.

sigh

What I wrote to Danielson:

Dear Danielson,
I would like to put your song, Ye Olde Battleaxe, on my blog to honor my mom for Mom’s Day. Do you have this song up somewhere already? If so, can you send me the link? If not, can I be your advertiser for a week or so? I can (will if requested) pull it down as soon as the festivities are complete (sunrise on Monday, May 10th).

Thanks so much.

Love,
A popular stranger.

p.s. you can view the site first if you wish. It’s at http://www.popularstranger.com/

p.s.s. you are amazing

mmmmmmm, scrabble

CPH and I drove about an hour south tonight for a concert (Sufjan Stevens and Denison Witmer). I was greatly looking forward to this, because Sufjan’s new album has become a daily listen for me and Denison has been a favorite of ours for quite a while now.
But, (and here’s where the amazing of all amazings comes in) we became very excited when, as we were walking to the front door of this venue, we hear CPH’s real name being said by someone beside the door.
It was one of our friends from our college days!
So, not only did we get to see a very, VERY (did I say VERRRY) enjoyable show, but we also got to catch up with a dear friend.
Music does make the world go around.

Go here for pictures.

Mister! he said with a sawdusty sneeze,
I am the Lorax. I speak for the trees.
I speak for the trees, for the trees have no tongues.
And I?m asking you, sir, at the top of my lungs—he was very upset as he shouted and puffed—What?s that THING you?ve made out of my Truffula tuft?

I received something at work today that had to be sent right back out as soon as I got it (a time-sensitive issue). We scan everything we get, so I put it in the tray to be scanned. I have a very rational reason for doing this. My thought process goes like this: I scan it, that way it’s in our system. After I get it back from the scanning lady, I send the original hard copy on it’s merry little way. But my sup has another plan. He wants to send it right away and suggests I make a copy of it, have the copy scanned and send the original now.

I call him a tree-killer, but do as I am told. Damned if the printer doesn’t break down halfway through the copying process. Ha, tree-killer, your evil plans have once again been spoiled!

“and your wife looks down and says she don’t know how
he’s been her guiding light for ten years now
and his marriage is over, it’s barely alive
and how in the world will ours ever survive?” michael knott

My mom just called. Their computer has died and they are shopping for a new one. She called to ask me to go online to find out the system requirements for their current internet connection. While waiting for my verrrry slow computer to load the page, she sighed and said, “Well, i have some disturbing news”. Gulp.

Seems my favorite uncle and his long-term partner might be seperating.

Shortly after telling sister-in-law that, even though my bangs needed a desperate trim, I was going to deny the urges because I wanted to grow my bangs out, I went into the bathroom and cut my bangs. really short.
I now look like a vulcan and while I know that this will excite a few of you, I am not sure that i like it. But it’s hair, so what can a girl do? Perform the Vulcan Death Grip on anyone who says something about her hair, of course. And this one won’t just be for show, so watch out, for real.

These are the pictures that (one day soon) will be on my daily reads page and listening to page, respectively

There are currently 18 blogs on my daily reads list (which I will be able to link to as soon as CPH is done with school for the semester). I am absolutely obsessive about checking these blogs. I would say I visit each one at least 5 times a day (if not, quite honestly, more).
Two of the blogs are new to the list b/c I just met the authors this weekend. I didn’t recognize this obsessive disorder until I realized that one of the authors, who seems rather internet-savvy, would probably have a tracking device on his blog (CPH does and is also internet-savvy….wow, I am such a generalizer). I had to email this person and apologize because I was sure that he would think that I was a stalker. And then I realized that by emailing him, twice in two days, I might have helped him to catch on to the fact that, well, honestly I really am a stalker. I am a blatant stalker. There should be rules against that.

Watch out, he’ll get you with that care bear stare.

1. Margaritas are yummy. Oh wait, I already knew that.
2. There really are rational agnostics living among us.
3. I’m too clever for my own good.
4. Perfidy is not something I should strive for, but something from which I should run. I find it funny how that word keeps coming into my life.
5. There are actually people in this world who don’t play scrabble on a normal basis. I know, I couldn’t believe it either!
6. I no more love a womanly endowment than any boy….or girl.
7. I am, in fact, a gum-swallower. I said GUM!

This was my first attempt at a website. I’ve been missing it lately. What I liked most was the anonymity of it all. Now that blogging is more popular, I think I will send the link to my friends once more.
Feel free to join in.

here is a picture of me wearing a scarf that my friend knitted for me. it’s one of the most beautiful things i’ve ever worn, honestly.

I just got off the phone with an old friend from home. She found out last week that she is pregnant (6 weeks along). Their oldest (who is now at three years of age) has declared that he wants to name the baby Apple Pajamas M*. This is the same child who after being tortured to eat a full orange, finished the last section, sighed, and said, “That (pause for effect) was my finest hour”. I am constantly being amazed by the whole M* family. Mr. M* read the biography of Winston Churchill to his first child every night as a bedtime story and Mrs. M* takes her nights off from the kids and goes to a Bluegrass Bar to sing with the locals. Mr. M* was a friend from college who met Mrs. M* while working at a summer camp. Their love story is one of first sight. Mrs. M was dreading making the announcement to me because she didn’t want to make me jealous. Honestly, I am a bit jealous, but very excited for the M*’s, nonetheless.
On another note – I have read this blog religiously for the past month or so. Her entries are 1)fascinating to me because of my recently admitted desire to be with child and 2)breathtakingly honest. Her recent post about postpartum depression has cracked open a door that I desperately hope, when the possible visitor arrives, I will be able to slam shut and keep locked forever.

Saturday was a very full day. CPH and I rolled out of bed around 7:45 am (I THOUGHT THIS WAS A WEEKEND???). I got the lasagna ready for the crockpot, put on some old clothes, fed our sick baby, and headed off to the garden. We, along with some friends of ours, have started a cooperative garden that is about 30 mintues outside of the city. Saturday was a fun day full of measuring a bed, shoveling between the bed, putting hay in the path between the beds and raking the bed. Multiply this by about 50 and you will have a picture of our day. CPH got a nice farmer’s tan and I got a vist from the sneezing monster who lives inside the hay. I realized about an hour before we headed home that I had forgotten to turn the crockpot on and I was looking forward to the Crockpot Lasagna. . . sigh. . ..
Friends were coming to our house around 6pm. We left the garden around 4:30. This meant that we had just enough time to feed our sick baby (see above), take a shower and throw some clothes on before they arrived. If we could have fit in a 15 minute nap, we would have, I promise.
Because the crockpot lasagna was not cooked, we went instead, to a mexican restaurant in our neighborhood. The other two couples got to use their “buy one, get one free” coupons , but CPH and I were last in line and the cashier was tired of us, so he refused us the deal. This didn’t bother us too much, it was only like 6 bucks a plate. CPH had heard from a few people that the margaritas at this place were quite good and I would, now, have to agree.
After dinner, we came back to our house and played a round of Apples to Apples. I won, but it was a close game. After the game, we moved into the living room to watch a few episodes of CPH’s favorite show. I got the nap in at this time because i’ve seen these episodes probably 3 times each. The nap came in handy because after the show, Couple A left and Couple B and CPH and I played a game of our newest board game. (And what a good deal, too)! It was great having couple B stay past 10 pm. They usually cut nights fairly short because, understandably, female of Couple B is in Med School which normally calls for early mornings. But saturday night, they stayed well past their normal 10 pm curfew.
Female of Couple B kept reminding us that we were gathering on the night that Jesus descended into hell. Who would have known that Jesus’ night in hell could be so much fun?

First thing: This weekend, my cutie pie husband and I visited the Eiteljorg for the first time since we moved to Indy. I quite enjoyed the visit, but was disgusted to the point of shaking my finger at our ancestors on a few occasions. First, I was informed how the Europeans, in their quest to move the Indians away from their discovery, gave the Natives cloths from an infested hospital and hoped that the rest would be “taken care of”. Moving on, through the rooms, I found my mother’s family name attached to a young girl who was ripped from her family in the “Kill the Indian, Not the Man” campaign. Lastly, I learned that “Sunday Laws” were, in fact, put in to place to discriminate against Jews. All in all, an entertaining day at the museum, but I can’t help but think that I have been propagandized.
Second thing: What happens if you truly believe (have faith) that something is going to happen, but then, it doesn’t? Have you been misproven? Can it stand to reason, then, that the thing that caused you to really believe in whatever it was that you believed in does not exist? Or does it simply mean that you did not really believe?