Barefoot in the Park/Kitchen or How I Came to be a Big Winner!

I'm getting married, and much like Optimistic., I have nothing clever to say about it. This is probably due to the fact that my head has exploded. Several times over in fact.

I met the family. Optimistic. fake won the lottery. We got engaged, though fairly unofficially. He called his family. I called my family. I went to convocation with the family. They expressed how excited they were, very unofficially. I got a phone message from H. We went out to eat and got rub on tattoos. We went to L'afro's party. Our friends expressed how excited they were in many rib-crunching hugs. I ate a ring made out of Twizzlers. I was tired out of my mind. We went thrift shopping with most of the family. A 1995 swimming trophy, a Charades game, a pair of old man slippers, half a game of battleship, some clothes, and a hip flask purchase later we were back at his Grandparents' for a family celebration. He announced. We celebrated. I ate strawberries. We're getting married.

Give Said the Little

It's been three months, and the string around my finger is still holding on. It's a little frayed, but I wouldn't be surprised if it made it another few months.

Also, I received a fourth piece of sock mail yesterday. It's from Auntie J, the aunt of my coworker Minerva, who sent me my third piece of sock mail. The whole thing makes me incredibly happy.

Life is good. Terribly, horribly busy, but good. I've taken note of at least 17 things I've wanted to post about, but I haven't had time. I need to write about my Easter in Rexburg as well as some of my fondest Easter memories growing up, and tied into that is the story of my Easter/laundry basket. I have pictures from the Festival of Colors. I have everything I've been thinking from the last few weeks rolling around in my head and nothing to do with it. I have posts eking out my ears and it won't be until after classes are out that I can even attempt to write them all down and do them justice. I have pictures and stories and nonsense waiting to come forth. Wait for it...wait for it...

A magic wishing lamp

I got to use the lift all day today at work. I was 30 feet up in the air cleaning windows and it was amazing. My coworkers and I also decided to plant clues in various places around the building, sort of like a treasure hunt, but much more intense. There will be codes, secret hiding places, and bribery involved. I love my job.

How to read (my face)

Announcement time! The Maoist got in to Boston College. Woot! I just wanted to say how immensely proud of her I am. She was getting a Jamba Juice, saw one of my coworkers, and asked her if she knew where I was. She was then led back to the bathroom I was cleaning, where she told me the good news. I'm excited for her.

I also wanted to say how much I love running into people I know when I'm at work. If you see me you should holler at me and get my attention. It's happened a few times that I've be talking with someone and they mention that they saw me sometime earlier that day or week, but didn't say hello. They usually say it's because when they saw me I looked very busy, very angry, or both. I always have to explain to these people that I'm rarely either of those things, and that that's just the way my face looks. Apparently I look severe most of the time. I think it's the face, coupled with the way I walk, which is quickly.

When my face is at rest the corners of my mouth turn down slightly. I'm not upset, and I wouldn't call it a frown exactly, but that's the way it stays when it's at rest. My smile consists of my lips pulling themselves up into a straight line, taut across my face without allowing my teeth to show. So my neutral face is a frown and my smile is really rather neutral looking. I am not a tooth smiler. It's only within the last few months that I've even attempted tooth smiling for pictures. It's unnatural for me, and therefore requires a great deal of thought and preparation on my part. I may just have to get used to it. The world expects us all to be tooth smilers, but I like to think that all good smiles start in the eyes somewhere. There's a crinkling that occurs when something truly tickles my fancy, and it's after this that I throw my head back and laugh.

And if none of this helps you in reading me, there's always the Helen Keller approach, but I don't think you should start feeling my face unless you've already tried the approach I've delineated above.

I found it delightful

I read this today and wanted to pass it along - it's a poem by Jay Hopler from his book Green Squall. The form will be a bit off, but oh well. Either he'll never know, he'll forgive me, or I'll get sued.

MEDITATION ON RUIN

It's not the lost lover that brings us to ruin, or the barroom brawl,

or the con game gone bad, or the beating

Taken in the alleyway. But the lost car keys,
The broken shoelace,
The overcharge at the gas pump
Which we broach without comment - these are the things that

eat away at life, these constant vibrations

In the web of the unremarkable.

The death of a father - the death of the mother -
The sudden loss shocks the living flesh alive! But the broken

pair of glasses,

The tear in the trousers,
These begin an ache behind the eyes.
And it's this ache to which we will ourselves
Oblivious. We are oblivious. Then, one morning - there's a

crack in the water glass - we wake to find ourselves undone.

Everybody plays the fool

Anyone else pee blue this morning? I'm hoping so, otherwise that last sentence might make things a bit awkward. Dimmi and Lavish, I'm shaking my fist at you right now, even as I type. Just know that I don't forgive pranks without some form of pranking in return, and by some form I mean that it's probably not safe for you to fall asleep. Ever again. And by forgive I mean hold a grudge and enter into a war to the death making all involved regretful, as ultimately they're left empty shells of their former selves, wasted and morally debauched with no hope of pursuing a useful, normal, or satisfying life.

Also, as I shake my fist I'm doing that pointing with two fingers stare. How am I doing both of those things while still managing to type? I'm simply doing the pointing while I shake the one hand and typing with the other, which doesn't look as menacing as I would have hoped, but rather more like a disgruntled elderly person with the shakes has it out for you.

When I noticed this morning that my pee was blue, do you know what I thought? Of course you don't, but I know that you're dying (ha!) to find out, so I'm going to tell you. My initial thought was, "I'm not M-Lite."

You're thinking this is a conclusion I probably should have reached fifteen or twenty years ago.

Bear with me. I do have a reason for thinking this, and it's because Wednesday at the hospital they injected M-Lite with the same stuff that would make her pee blue, so when I discovered that my pee was also blue I was a bit confused. It was also early in the morning. Ah well.

Also, just to guilt trip Dimmi and Lavish, methylene blue does have side effects, aside from just the blue urine. Yeah, the abdominal pain, chest pain, and dizziness makes sense now. Maybe because you're not supposed to use it on people who are sick.

I don't think either of them read this blog, so someone pass it along to them to watch their backs. Shakes fist again while pointing.