Here’s a few things that don’t really fit into my Amazon wish list:
1) Belt Buckles
2) Scarves
Don’t judge me. I’ve finally gotten a belt that accepts those glorious metal pieces of art that hold your pants on. And we all love scarf weather! (Even if you’re too homophobic to admit it.)
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We had Christmas early for part of my family. My brother and sister-in-law are fixin’ to have a baby, so we all harrumphed down to Memphis for a Thanksmas holiday. Gifts were exchanged, as one would imagine. Then there was this:
Great laughter ensued, as one would imagine. It was horse-laughter really. I mean, what if you pulled Spotted Dick right out of a nicely wrapped Christmas package? The moisture content of my pants will never be the same. Then we all began exchanging ‘fun ways to use Spotted Dick’, and I’m pretty sure it’s the most vile conversation my family has ever been involved in. Join in, it’ll be fun!
Go see a doctor about it!
Get some salve!
Must be named after some factory worker… Richard the Leper!?
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Well, here’s something I never expected to see.
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A principal in Long Beach kicked out three girls–one of them an honor student–after dressing up like Captain Underpants on Superhero Day at the high school.
“Yes, I know they weren’t naked,” Restivo said. “But the appearance was that they were naked.”
Good thing this didn’t happen to me when I dressed up as Quailman back in high school. More here.
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On a whim, I picked up Ben & Jerry’s Oatmeal Cookie Chunk today at Kroger. Wow. It’s making me reconsider my life.
But I don’t really know what else I’m considering…
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I thought the writers of Seinfeld were all absolutely genius before, but this takes it to a whole new level. My buddy Dave calls me earlier today to let me know that he’d been doing some study in the Hebrew language (he’ll be going to Seminary in the fall), and came across a brilliant little jewel. The Hebrew word ‘yada’ is often used in reference to sexual relations between a man and a woman. So apparently, you really can ‘yada yada’ the best part.
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This head cold is about to do me in. (Why do we call it a head cold, anyway? Sure, it’s in the head area, but you’ve never heard anyone say, Man, I just can’t shake this cold. Oh, your head all clogged up? No, no. It’s my hand.)
I made friends with my bottle of NyQuil last night instead of studying. I figured I could just turn in early and do all my studying in the morning. And this morning, on my way to school, I figured it would be good to pick up a pack of DayQuil, despite what my finances said I could do. DayQuil would be a must, a little nugget of truth I discovered Friday afternoon when a quick swig of NyQuil hit me like an elephant tranquilizer dart. That was quite a nap.
I stand there, looking over the options. New formula? Really? I lean in for a closer look. Well, It seems this one’s somehow rid itself of pseudoepheprine. Hmm. Well, that just won’t do. I didn’t want to snag some reformulated crap just because half the Middle Tennessee population can’t control their meth intake. But, no! It seems the pharmacy is closed at this hour! And they’re keeping the good stuff behind the counter these days. Well, I had to have something, so I grabbed a box.
It works surprisingly well. In fact, I might just be more pleased with this new drug, phenylephrine HCL, than with my old buddy pseudoephedrine. For nearly four hours I was relatively sniffle-free, but the bonus to this new drug is that I’m not walking around inside a bubble. There’s not the feeling of everything being surreal anymore. So there it is, I’m happier with the reformulation of DayQuil.
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I sit here, cold in my own bedroom, thinking of what the next month might hold. I honestly cannot wait to get home. It’s not homesickness at all; I do not feel somehow dejected from Nashville. It is this feeling that something–and a most probable something, at that–may be the last of it’s kind for me. In the coming year, I suppose I will have a more intense exploration of that which will be my livelihood beyond May of 2007, and thoughts of the next year have given me an awful feeling of loss for what I’ve had all these years.
At times, I feel very nearly like one might feel entering C.S. Lewis’ Wood between Worlds. I am no longer in the world of my Childhood, though vestiges of that world stay with me. A token count of friends from that world are still with me. And though I carry the green ring around, peering at it longingly, and at times even testing it on my finger, I have yet to fully remain in Adulthood. Sure, at times I’ve tested it out to see how I like it, a bit of self-assurance that I could indeed survive in it, but I always manage to make it back to the safety of the Wood and then to the comfort of Childhood. And I’m sure it’s those comforts that I run back to. I haven’t much of an affection for the physical world of Childhood, and I’m almost certain I would gladly venture into Adulthood if only I could pack along all the comforts of the previous world. Again, not that I haven’t found comfort in Adulthood; I have merely become accustom–and quite fond, if I may say–to those comforts that often draw me back to Childhood.
At this very moment, I can feel the peaceful tension of the Wood, and it is where I will have to remain for the next week. I am only afraid that, once I’ve been back to Childhood for too long, it may not be so easy to reach once again for the yellow ring. But I must enjoy it while it lasts, for the rings may not be here for my pleasure in a bit more than a year’s time.
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