I'm Engaged!

This is one happy girl writing. Raymond proposed on our vacation to Sacramento, Napa Valley and Lake Tahoe. (well, technically, he just proposed in Tahoe, but you know what I mean). The ring pictured above. We plan to marry within the year, but we have yet to figure out how and when! Weddings are crazy expensive. Who knew? I'm a Justice of the Peace kind of girl, myself. I guess we'll see!

Labor Day Fashion

I have it on good authority that you should never wear white after Labor Day. So I did: white short-pants and white open-toe-sandals. I'll be the scandal of all of Cleveland. I'll have to speed through Beachwood tonight so as not to be hauled from my vehicle and made into a public example.

On another purely tangential note: I went to Cedar Point with Raymond on Friday. Top-Thrills Dragster took my breath away, the Magnum tried to take my hat away, and the Millenium Force (we sat at the front) decided to give rather than take. Raymond and I had several dead bugs to show for ourselves on the fronts of our shirts. We laughed ourselves sick. (Oh, and the new ride, the Maverick, is really quite wild. I would have liked it more if it hadn't tossed my head about quite so much.)

And for those of you State-side, what did your weekend produce in the way of entertainment and relaxations?

1864 Baseball with Conan O'Brien

Just a little something to get your Monday morning on track (assuming you have sound/video capabilities and free time at work. I still haven't seen the end of the clip, but the first half is wonderful.)

Speaking of aberrant versions of baseball, just went to my boyfriend's first softball game last night. His team lost, but he looked good. : )

Took my nephew with me. Fed him sugar, sugar, goldfish crackers and sugar, and then my boyfriend took us out for ice cream. My nephew was up all night before puking. *sigh* Can't spoil children like you used to could! (Sorry, D!)

Main differences between baseball and softball as I remember it from our conversation at the ice cream place:

• Softball is bigger than a baseball
• Ball is pitched underhand
• in this case, batters start with a 1-1 count (1 strike, 1 ball)
• in this case, 11 men on field instead of 9
• in this case, no metal cleats on the field

Here's a fun page: See the salary vs performance stats of all thirty major league teams throughout the season.

Senility Now!

You know those moments when you are walking into a room and sudenly have no friggin clue why you're there? Or someone you see daily, whose name you should know, has just entirely abandoned you as you begin an introduction? Me too. In fact, I have those moments on a regular basis. Truth be told, if you wonder why I blog it is probably owing partly to my rapidly evaporating short-term memory pool.

In order to cope with my early-life senility I have devised various elaborate mechanisms to help me remember important things and events. There is first-off "The Vague Notion." The VN is a critical element in my ability to foresee the immediate future. A certain feeling of dread or anticipation proceeds important events and allows me to continuously remind myself of things I need to do in order to make that event a success. This only works, however, if the event causes great trepidation or great anticipation. If a strong emotion anchors the upcoming event, I am times more likely to remember it at regular intervals.

This doesn't work for say, returning movies to the library or getting to work early for a departmental meeting. For these, less awe-inspiring events, I require something a little less subtle: "The Electronic Reminder." The ER consists of either calendar reminders, email reminders or alarms on my cell phone that go off at strategic times throughout the day. These ensure that the uninspiring deadlines of my life are not completely overlooked. [NOTE: this method has been known to fail. The VN is a much more reliable method of memory-recall.]

The last memory aide, but hardly the least is "The Hand Mark." Also known affectionately as the washable billboard or the scrawl spot. (My boyfriend is not a fan of this method. He would prefer I didn't write on my hands and I sympathize, I really do.) Short-term deadlines require short-term messages written on the back of the hand and later washed off after too many trips to the ladies' room. Often this method is used when dealing with small events; usually interpersonal. Friends, family, colleagues to whom I owe a note, a call, a fiver, etc. If I was reminded to bring a pickle tray to a dinner, for instance, I will jot down "pkle" on the back of the left hand. I try to keep it short. Fewest letters possible. Or, if the reminder is to bring the camera over to my sister's house so that she can take a picture of her family to give to the relatives of her Ethiopian daughters,' I will jot down "cam." If the need to call a friend about her wedding arises during the middle of a busy work day (in case you haven't noticed yet, today is not one of them), I make an HM of the first three letters of her name.

This covers most of the bases for my memory lapses. But there is a territory that no device seems to penetrate. No aide can permeate this forgetful recess in my mind, and that is the chasm known as the "Slippery Fish Zone." This treacherous terrain of my brain eludes all attempts to recall bits of information. Once an event, date, name or idea is lost inside the SFZ, I will never see it again. I've lost perfectly good childhood memories in there and have lost countless arguments as well, because I can't remember the exact anything that is being talked about. This causes me concern. Not so much because it stinks to lose an argument or a childhood memory, but because I'm terrified of getting older with this memory grave already dug to such depths in my head. If I'm not yet thirty and so much information can get swallowed up in this sink-hole, what will I act like when I'm antique?

I guess it really doesn't matter. Once I lose half my memories, I can do what other old people do and start making them up! This actually sounds like a lot of fun and I will entertain and confuse my family with the tall tales I'll be telling from the rocking chair. Win win!

Now, if you'll excuse me, I had something to do... what was it?

(picture courtesy of a production of Driving Miss Daisy)

Smile Awhile

My boyfriend sent me a card about smiling yesterday and it prompted me to a) smile and b) blog about it.

Here are the top ten things to learn about smiles today:

A smile is a universal expression of happiness and recognised as such by all cultures

A smile is the most frequently used facial expression. It takes as few as five pairs of facial muscles and as many as all 53 to smile

Smiling releases endorphins and makes us feel better

Even 'faking' a smile can lead to feeling happier

People are born with the ability to smile (even blind babies smile)

Babies reserve special smiles (Duchennes smiles of joy and happiness) for their loved ones

A newborn shows a preference for a smiling face over a non-smiling face

There are 18 different kinds of smile used in a variety of social situations

Human beings can differentiate between the 'felt' smile and the social smile – 'it's in the eyes' (literally)

A person who studies laughter is called a 'gelotologist'

Conversations With My Boyfriend

Me: You know what one of the distinct advantages of walking on water would be?

BF: Are there any disadvantages to walking on water?

Me: Huh, no, I guess not. But one of the advantages is that you can get where you're going without any physical barriers or obstacles.

BF: Maybe that's why Jesus did it.

Me: Yeah, to get from point A to point B.

Diary Minute

I'm just gonna scribble down a few words here, because in an unlikely turn of events, I actually have a minute to do so. A giant storm system is passing overhead and will continue to do so for the evening and night taking our scorching hot and unbearably humid weather with it.

Our office has been quiet today, but in order to restore balance to the universe, this little perk was neatly counterbalanced by the loss of our air conditioning. We were an hour into mugginess before someone stepped to the vent and received a face full of steamy hot air. We promptly shut off the "air conditioning" and called maintainence. They told us the "chiller" had been acting funny. We said, "No s--t, Sherlock." When the cold air came back on, we sank gratefully into our desk chairs again. Only to have it go out a second time. I don't know how you fair in humid weather, but in a stuffy room where no air is moving, I panic and get claustrophobic. It is amusing to watch me rush around the office trying to find a fan or a vent of fresh air. Eventually we opened a window.

The guy with HIV in England called again to see what we were doing to get him back in the country. I know it's stupid, but I'm afraid to touch his file now.

The bf and I had a long talk last night (Too long for Convos with my BF) and settled on short skirts for me and big hugs from him. I think that sounds like an agreement we can both be happy with. I'm going shopping after work.

I had sweet and sour chicken for lunch. And then a bag of Dorito's. And two cookies Dolly made (SO GOOD).

And that's it for my Minute Report.

Segue to a New Week

It's almost the end of my weekend as I know it. I've got a bellyache from too much good eating, a headache from too much good sunning, and a heartache from too much good loving. The man left town for a stich. He'll be back and maybe now I won't be tempted to stay out at parties till three every morning. I seriously need a nap. Think I'll watch a Criterion Film with my brother.

For those needing to learn something, get a load of the Territory of Sealand. No really, I might become a citizen. Joel told me about it.

Conversations with my Boyfriend

Me: I dreamt last night that my room was filled with birds' nests and the nests were filled with eggs, but they were all dead. And then vultures were trying to get into my room and eat them.
Boyfriend: You're just freaked out because your bird went away.
Me: I am freaked out!
Boyfriend: I can tell you where you went wrong with this whole thing.
Me: Really? Where did I go wrong?
Boyfriend: You named the bird.

An Old Baseball Gag

Saw the Indians play (badly) last night with my boyfriend and other friends. We lost the game, but this clip is still funny. Have a great Monday morning.

Conversations with my Boyfriend

Boyfriend: Do non-Catholics cross themselves?
Me: No. I don't think so.
Boyfriend: Why not?
Me: Well, in order to answer that question we'd have to know why Catholics do cross themselves. Do you know why Catholics do cross themselves?
Boyfriend: No.
Me: Well, when we know why Catholics cross themselves we might be able to figure out why non-Catholics don't... maybe.

Question of the day: Why do Catholics cross themselves (make the sign of the cross)?

Caption Contest!

Winner receives a free dinner with me and my boyfriend at a local IHOP restaurant OR a three minute unfettered ramble on the topic of their choice on audioblogger! Good luck! (Oh and my boyfriend doesn't know about the dinner thing, so that may not actually be an option, but we'll see.)