I write to you both during a very exciting time: you two may not get a chance to read this missive until you return from your honeymoon to Hawaii, or even until you are moved in to your new home in Iowa… or perhaps, not until after you each complete your first semester of vet school. So many big changes! The entire thing hit me when I was standing at the back of the banquet hall at your reception: you two, just married, walked in for the first time, wearing the biggest smiles I’ve ever seen. It may sound cliche, but there’s no other way to describe it: suddenly, the years past came rushing back, and I swayed a bit, surprised at it all — the magnitude of this most auspicious day. I can only imagine what you two were feeling and experiencing: it must have been orders of magnitude greater.
I’d like to say that I didn’t quite express how happy I was for you both at the reception this past Saturday. I got up to speak, and I knew what I wanted to say, and yet suddenly the gravity of the situation hit me. You see, I’m very used to speaking in situations where I have little emotional attachment to what I am speaking about. It was wonderful (and scary) to speak of and to honor two people so near to my heart. Regardless, I would like to share something from the reception that stuck with me:
The dollar dance was winding down, and Matt found himself partner-less, looking out over the crowd who were watching the dances. A minute or two went by, and Shayla danced with her last pardner. As she walked toward Matt across the floor, he reached out his arms and pulled her to him — it was a simple gesture, but one so full of love, I couldn’t help but smile. I know you two will go through life this way, pulling one another close and savoring the love, friendship, and happiness you share.
Here’s wishing you two many wonderful years ahead.
Give tumbledry the ol’ hard refresh, and you’ll find the newest, very centered, version of the layout. 50% of the people I’ve surveyed love it this way! That’s one out of two!
Evan Ferstenfeld has a home-run of a t-shirt on his hands with this Threadless shirt: I Listen To Bands that Don’t Even Exist Yet. Helps you take your musical tastes less seriously. Again: thanks, Mykala!
This Penny Arcade comic is something I’ve been searching for for a while (how do I get that double “for” out of that sentence?). Anyhow, it summarizes how internet commenting boards make people into completely offensive, babbling retards. It’s completely true.
Here are some random thoughts that, individually, would struggle to make a complete post. Together, they will become more.
#1
I had a #11 Country Club at Jimmy John’s. This is Mykala’s sandwich, and I tried it today. I loved it. Just loved it. It’s made of “fresh sliced turkey breast, applewood smoked ham, provolone, and tons of lettuce, tomato, and mayo.”
#2
I am confident that artists such as Ashley Simpson or *shudder* Paris Hilton really think that their voices sound the way they do on the recording. To them, the endless pitch corrections, post processing, and other electronic magic that goes on after they warble into the microphone is entirely transparent. That is, they figure that what they hear is real, just the way that we subconsciously assume that what we see on magazine covers is real. It’s a sad state of affairs for pop divas… but not for photoshoppers and audio producers.
#3
On my very first long format run a few weeks ago, I had to go to the bathroom so badly, I just barely found a public bathroom before giving up all hope of maintaining public dignity. Incidentally, I had tied the drawstring on my shorts to prevent them from abandoning my waist mid run. This was effective - in fact, so effective, that I couldn’t get them off my waist at all. So there I am, hopping up and down in an outhouse, and I rip the drawstring on my shorts. Thankfully, I was able to keep them up for the remainder of the run, sans drawstring.
Comments weren’t quite working because every time you left a comment, tumbledry tried to send you back a copy of every comment that had ever been left here.
Then it told you that you weren’t connected to the internet.
While cleaning out my inbox, I got a chance to read an email from my Dad about a guy called Willard Wigan. Essentially, he sculpts on a mind-bogglingly small scale: almost all of his work can easily fit through the head of a pin. Wikipedia:
He is the creator of the world’s smallest sculptures, often taking months to complete one, working between heartbeats to avoid hand tremors. Wigan uses a tiny surgical blade to carve his microscopic figures out of rice, and fragments of grains of sand and sugar, which are then mounted on pinheads.
Working between heartbeats?! Good lord. The pictures on his official site are unreal.
Well, tonight I run what is becoming an annual tradition: the Torchlight 5K in Minneapolis. It was rather funny actually, because this year I received a big email advertising the Torchlight, complete with fancy graphics and everything. Now, normally I don’t give a second look to these things (I was planning on running, anyway!), but for some reason I let this email load. Lo and behold, there was a picture of me from last year, at the starting line of the run!
I added the arrow so you would know which one I was. This was probably superfluous. Oh well! Anyhow, I’ll be a’ runnin’ this evening.
