I've known my friend Donald since we were in 6th grade.
That's 27-28 years now, the quick calculation of which makes me feel old. Oldish. I don't feel old at all until I start doing math, and that's one of a million reasons that I hate math. And I don't care about getting old, lines and wrinkles and such, but I get a little freaked out when I realize how far back something is buried behind me. Hmm...
The topic was Donald, and he just sent me some baby/kid pictures of himself. It's weird to see him so young, 'cause he seems to have been around forever, yet there's solid proof that he existed before we met:
Donald, without even trying, makes me feel rooted to the earth. I've told him he has this responsiblity, and takes this very seriously by writing every week to assure me he's alive, and then he tells me stories about his wife and kids and happy normal home life. Because he goes so far back in my head and still exists and thrives and moves forward, and because we can still talk just as comfortably, and because he's not going to surprise me and become an axe-murderer tomorrow, he's totally necessary for my survival.
By the way, he's the kid in the rabbit story.
Doesn't necessarily look like him, but he was there for that weird time of life, whether he remembers it all or not.
On a completely different note, someone was talking to me the other day about, oh, frogs or something, and it turned into a quiz that I'm most certain was to determine whether or not I would go to hell. It seems there was no right answer---everything I said lead to scrutiny and/or a disappointed shaking of his head.
I just wanna say I'm a good girl.
If my grandma had been there, she would have defended me.
On a completely completely different note, here's a game for you that I play every time I get in the car: Count the blonde women in expensive cars who are chatting on cell phones as they fly through intersections, sitting through the green light, drifting into your lane, never signaling, and almost hitting you in the parking lot. Imagine that you get a $100 for each one you spot.
I don't know about you, but I'd have $1000 a day during my short commute. That might rise to $3000 while these mindless chicks are out Christmas shopping this month.
Ok, I know not all blonde women do this (apologies to the rest of you), but I have definitely narrowed it down to this group being the most guilty. I think it's the particular neighborhood I'm near. Probably 90% of the women living there are blondes in black SUVs...
...AND THEY ALL LIKE TO TALK ON THEIR DAMN PHONES, THAT'S FOR SURE.
I wish they would stop for everyone's sake.
Speaking of Christmas shopping...
Cars as Christmas gifts? Really?
Ok, I guess it happens, but do we really need commercials for it? Yeah, 'cause maybe it hadn't occurred to you yet that A CAR might be a gift possibility, and the ad jarred your brain: Oh, hey, that's what I'll do! I'll get my wife a BMW with a big red bow. I was gonna go with the sweater, but that car commercial reminded me that a car would be a lot cooler!
Somehow I think if you are forking over $20-80K ya might already have something in mind. Or, for crying outloud, the person RECEIVING the gift probably has a preference. A commercial wouldn't even register.
Eh, I'm just being a jerk. People can buy each other cars if they want.
I almost can't even explain why it annoys me... It just seems like surprise cars are for folks who didn't have any car at all, and they are finally getting A car, any car at all. Certainly not a luxury car. And it should be a huge event with screaming and crying and jumping up and down.
Somehow I think if you can afford a Hummer (and the gas to drive it), your wife isn't going to be surprised at all to receive one---she can go get it herself. And come on, you can think of something cooler. I'll bet she wouldn't be expecting, oh, a donkey! That was always the booby prize on game shows, and it was exactly what I really wanted.
Stuff & Things...