"[my name here] was not a miracle. She was not an adventure. She was not a fine and precious thing. She was a girl."
The Book Thief
God this blog is so damned daily that had it been published in 100 BCE, ancient Romans would have ditched their sundials and used my blog to keep time.
Progress continues on An Abundance of Katherines. It’s slow, but it’s progress. I’m typing more than I’m deleting, which is hopefully a good sign. But this blog is not about my daily adventures in second novel writing. It is, of course, about weddings.
Weddings, as it turns out, require quite a lot of planning, particularly if you are having a big Southern wedding (which, so far as I can tell, is the only kind of Southern wedding you can have). So Sarah and I are deeply engaged in the process of planning our wedding. A lot of people complain about wedding planning, but so far I have found it absolutely delightful. It’s a great way to spend time (and money!) with Sarah, and we have a pretty good sense of humor about the whole thing. Also, I haven’t really had to do much yet. The other day I had to IM my brother (who writes a great column for a newspaper in Boulder) and ask him to be my best man, but that was really pretty straightforward:
birdlives1: Hey. Will you be my best man?
Hank: Doesn’t that question warrant a phone call?
birdlives1: I don’t have any minutes right now.
Hank: Yeah of course I will. I’ve been writing my toast since you started dating Sarah.
Hank: Hey, do I have to buy anything?
birdlives1: You have to rent a tuxedo, I think. Mom and Dad might pay for it though.
Hank: Can the tuxedo be hilarious?
birdlives1: I sort of doubt it.
Hank: Can it have sparkles?
birdlives1: You’re ruining the moment. This is a moment of deep love between brothers who love one another deeply. You’re supposed to say you love me and you’re proud of me.
Hank: I love you, Sparkles McHomecomingDance.
(Side note: “Sparkles McHomecomingDance is a reference to the tuxedo I wore to the 1993 Winter Park High School Homecoming Dance. The tux featured a silver cumberbund and bowtie covered in fake diamonds. What can I say? I thought I looked disco fabulous.)
This though. I mean, god, they haven’t changed.
I really kinda feel like I’m stalking John but this is online for the world to see, sooooo
I want to buy my boyfriend a drawing tablet or graphics tablet, whatever it’s called, for his birthday next month but I know nothing about drawing or tablets.
What would you recommend?
Seeing all these posts about people breaking out jackets and leggings and drinking coffee all bundled up outside is really weird
Like, it’s september still
We have a high of 93
"When you’re trapped at sea, all you see everywhere is a flatness that is very unsteady. You float along, not knowing whether you will be rescued or starve to death. Then you find the island. The island is small, but it’s ground. There are trees here, and some grass. But everywhere you look, you see the deep blue-green unsteady flatness. You sit on your island with fires lit, day in and day out, looking at the seemingly infinite sea that stretches to the horizon, hoping someone will find you. You have a source of food, and you have taken shelter somehow, so you stand a chance of living. And then that plane flies over, or the passing boat floats by, or whatever it may be finds you. They radio the coast guard, and within hours, you’re saved."
"Now imagine being on a moon mission, in orbit preparing to head home. You don your space suit, tether to the outside of the ship, and hop outside. Then the tether breaks. Your fellow astronauts see you float away, and they can do nothing. You float away from them as they leave you to head home, to safety from the vastness of space. You look around as best you can as you hurl through space. You look around. There’s no blue-green unsteady flatness. Now, it’s in three dimensions, not just two. And now, it’s black. So black. Devoid of any color, in all directions. Well, except one. The Moon. And, well Earth, but that’s very far away. You float in orbit, wondering if you’ll run out of oxygen, or just die of shock. Then you realize you’re falling. You’re coming out of orbit. You may or may not die upon impact, who knows. After all, the Moon has light gravity. So you fall to the ground and get very bruised up, but surprisingly, you still live. You stand up. There’s no trees on this island. No grass. No food. No shelter. Nothing to build a fire with. Just you and the moon. And if you’re lucky, the planet you came from might be staring at you. You stand there. You know this is it. The ultimate alone. No one is coming. Not for years at best. And you’re at 8% oxygen level.
A series of two impromptu text messages from my significant other.
My best friend.