It's time to
Today, our blithe little tongues will be touching on the snouts of weather, sex with soldiers, wake up calls, and any of a number of other things floating around in my fuzzy head.†
[SUMMARY: Wait, did she say, "sex with soldiers"?]
My car dinged at me this morning. I knew my seatbelt was securely fastened. I was pretty sure it wasn't time to change the oil. But you know that feeling you get -- the dash light goes on, the engine makes an odd noise, something dings at you. It's like when you see those red and blue lights whirling in your rearview. No matter how safe and good and careful you think you are, your heart does that little dive.
I'm a dork.
It's been so long I'd completely forgotten that the car dings to let me know when it gets to 37° because that's where the roads can start freezing and there could be traction issues.
So it's cold this morning here in Denverish. We may see some winter yet.‡
[SUMMARY: Warming up the audience (ha! pun!), talking small.]
Up until last night, I thought the line in the song was, "...living in a pony keg and giving off sparks."
Remember when I did the big book and author list§ awhile back? I found another glaring ommission.¶
If you haven't read Ken Follett's# The Pillars of the Earth, please go get a copy RIGHT NOW and read it.
I'll wait here.
I had read some of Follett's spy novels that were lying around my parents' house, but was largely unimpressed.†† So when my dad handed me Pillars and told me I'd really like it, I trusted, but cautiously.
It remains one of the best books I've ever read. In fact, I don't know how I missed it on my list because it's the one book that's been in my nightstand constantly since I got it.%
It is the story of a town/village (Kingsbridge) in Olde Englande. The characters are compelling, the research astonishing, the story a force of nature. Nine Hundred and Ninety-Two rapidly-flipping pages of history, architecture, theology, sociology, anthropology, knights, monks, sex and violence.
Well, after 14 years, Mr. Follett has brought forth the sequel, World Without End. I'm about a quarter through it. Not as compelling out of the gate as Pillars, but so far, so very good.
I'll keep you posted.
[SUMMARY: Meanwhile, go read Pillars.]
I told Susie I'd make her a scarf for her birthday.
"What colour?" I asked.
"I can do rainbow."
"And I'm allergic to wool."
So now what am I going to do? Even the gay pride weasel has a bunch of wool in it.
[SUMMARY: Be careful what you offer...]
Dad sent this to me last week. I told him it isn't funny at all. It's a fucking documentary. Right up to the baseball bat, this is EXACTLY how my every morning starts.
Usually at 4:30 or 5:00.
[SUMMARY: Every. Single. Morning.]
Last year, before most of y'all knew me, I hooked up with a soldier home on leave for Christmas.‡‡ We had many drinks, a lot of laughs and a nice naked tour of the couch, the chair, the stairs, the bed.^
I was wholly surprised when he called me and we got together again before he left. I figured, "Hey, soldier home on leave. If he doesn't have as many girls lined up for the two weeks before they send him back to the sandbox as he possibly can, he's not smart enough or passionate enough to wield weaponry for my country. It's a NSA romp and I'm good with that."
I dropped him a couple of times in the last year. Surprisingly,§§ he even wrote me (unprompted) once or twice.
Friday, I was muddling through some boxes of work at home,¶¶ and the phone rang. It was a wireless caller, a number I didn't recognise, so I let it go to voice mail.
A little later, when I picked up the message, it was Soldier Boy, back from the war and wanting to touch base and maybe get together.
I called him a little later. We did a quick recon## and he asked, "Do you still go to that little bar?"
"Oh, yes. In fact, every Tuesday."
"Yes. We knit."
"I'm sorry, I still didn't catch that. You...?"
"You knit? In the bar?"
"So you have a couple of beers and see if you can still knit one, purl two? Like that?"
He said he'd like to get together and catch up, I said that'd be dandy.
I imagine he might show up at Drunken Knitting tonight.
He's exuberant, funny, a little wild and he drinks like me.
I shaved my legs this morning.
[SUMMARY: Will wonders never cease?]
Speaking of drinking like Marin,††† that's a phrase Bag Lady Kathryn uses and it cracks me up.
See, when I say, "Drink Like Marin" in that bumper sticker tone of voice, I know what y'all are thinking. However, Kathryn uses it to denote drinking a lot of water. 'Cause I do. 'Specially in the bar.
Hey, two glasses of water for every adult beverage and I've never had a hangover in my life.
So Drink Like Marin!
[SUMMARY: There should be tshirts.]
♪Today you read this com-plete-ly.
You lick the pig so sweetly.
Today the light of duh is in your eyes...
Will there be rug burns tomorrow?♪
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Mostly this isn't a pick-and-choose thing. Mostly this is a "can I remember?" thing.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Says the girl who missed the first snow luxuriating in the sweet, lush atmosphere of autumn in New York.
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Have I mentioned lately how much I dig self-referential linking?
¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): I *knew* this was going to happen. Five years from now, I'll still be saying, "Oh... remember that list? I forgot something..."
#FOOTNOTE (pounded): OK, I just went to the Google toolbar to put in "Ken Follett" to make sure I had the right number of Ls and Ts and it DIDN'T COME UP. "Pillars of the Earth" (along with pillars of the earth sequel, pillars of the earth movie, pillars of the earth book, pillars of the earth review, pillars of the earth summary, pillars of the earth audiobook, pillars of the earth audio book, pillars of the earth: the videogame...) came up just fine, but not Ken Follett. This is a kind of Googlewhacking I'd never dreamed possible.
I put in "seven deadly sins colour" and came up with actual entries and there's no Ken Follett?
%FOOTNOTE (percented): Which has NOTHING to do with the very hot, female-friendly sex scenes that could potentially, if I did that sort of thing, get me through some of the C-batterier of the C-battery nights.
††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Not Mr. Follett's fault. I grow quickly bored with most spy novels. I like them, but I get sick of the playboy-loner-dashing-gentleman-rogue persona pretty quick. As someone whose dated her fair share of self-romanticising loners with overblown egos, I can but take a "been there, done that (heh. done that. heh.)" attitude about the whole genre.
‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Courtesy, Yahoo Personals.
^FOOTNOTE (careted): This is how rug burns are made.
§§FOOTNOTE (sssssssssssss): See paragraph above. Honestly, I don't know why anyone puts up with me: I'm utterly surprised when anybody likes me, then utterly surprised if someone doesn't. Trust me, it's all sincere. I am a dichotomic dork.
(I feel I should also tell you I originally went with "dichotomous dork," which I think sounds like the plucky, anthropomorphised mouse peasant who saves the rodent kingdom in some fantasy novel. Or maybe the new teacher at Hogwarts.)
¶¶FOOTNOTE (little Mickey Mouse feet): I am a dichotomic dork who has a deep-seated need to show you how dedicated I am that I was home sick and still worked all day. Therapy, anyone?
##FOOTNOTE (double pounder with cheese): See? I hang around soldiers. I know the lingo.
†††FOOTNOTE (triple-crossed): Yes, we were.