save the date:

10.31.09

Banqueting Table. Invitations to follow.

(Photo: Vogue December 2003- Alice in Wonderland series)

And then the wolfpack of one was a wolfpack of two.

While I am on the subject of popular fiction, I need some answers. Why do you think Stephenie Meyer named all the Indian's in La Push after Old Testament figures? No, you say. Yes, I say.

Let's name the wolfpack:
1) Jacob (son of Ephraim Black)
2) Sam(uel)
3) Seth
4) Paul (oops.. NT)
5) Leah
6) Rachel (sister of wolfpack)
etc etc etc etc etc (Quil and Embry almost throw this all off)

Tommy tried to shut down my impromptu literature discussion by saying SM is a Mormon (oh, and he can talk Twilight). Anyone out there half working on Excel half reading this that wants to share their keen insight?


I don't even need to take a Twitter quiz to tell you that I am:

Manifest Destiny (or the most romantic phrase since Santa Maria Novella)

Have you ever been pissed bc someone stole your idea? And did it better than you? Well, I am looking for someone to read this book so we can hash it out. Please. Tommy will eventually, but listen, I'm talking like now!!! OK? (He hears this kind of thing enough already.)

Synopsis: Oscar Schell's Heavy Boots, Boy Cartographer, dancing around talking about feelings by mapping things. Hoboin' on a train from Montana to DC. Endless illustrated margin notes.

I heard about this book and my heart ached 1) to read it and 2) bc I was pissed I didn't create it.

In the spirit of the Jewel, there are a few parts I would like to rewrite. But no one asked me. But I am asking you: Please read this book so we can discuss it before it becomes a blockbuster flop!

While you are deciding if you can commit to my challenge, check out the book's site.

O' the Bros Wagaline

Well, we've had a big weekend. On Thursday night Tbone got backed into, smashing up the front of his car in the Tau Togs parking lot. On Saturday night he got rear-ended coming off an exit in Charlottesville. On Sunday Mike Weiglein got married. And at some point in the midst of all of this, Mike got new glasses. Tbone is pissed.

Mission control, are you tweeting?

I've been trying to get obsessed with Twitter the past couple weeks. What? Yeah. It started when my cousin Becca moved to Nicaragua for the summer and announced that she would be tweeting about her adventures on the farm. Times have changed. In a moment of desperate hysteria I tried tweeting about the giant roach that had me hiding on top of my bed in hopes that TBone would some how read the message over Becca's shoulder, but blahhhhh, that roach is still hiding out somewhere.

So yeah, I have been trying to get into Twitter. I started following Spidey and LC, a little Mariah Carey too. But what has really gotten me nearly hooked is this.

In between now and Monday (the moonwalk's 40th anniversary) they are tweeting a "live" play by play of Apollo 11 Lunar Landing. This way those of us who never sat around Kevin Arnold's black and white screen to watch it ourselves can READ the dialogue between Mission Control and the astronauts from our slow office desktops. And wow, it's been beautiful in 140 characters.

(click to enlarge)

For more over the moon tweets, follow me. Or don't, I got enough weirdos reading about my roach problems.

brace yo face

for an upcoming entry by a guest writer. this writer has been teasing me with his/her entry, as he/she often does. stay tuned.

The Best Party I've Ever Been To!

BridePac Shameal was born ready to party like a bachelorette! The real question: Was Rehoboth Beach ready? Or the kind boy in the bottom left who let a gaggle of girls pile into his red jeep like a Barbie commercial come true? Probably not.

I am so excited to not only have one of my best friends enter the sacred world of marriage, but enter it in with a introverted, red-head man!

The woolly mammoth is melting, Shameal!

NURTURERS BE NURTURING

Another post for Spencer:




This weekend I was told I wasn't welcomed in Rehoboth unless I brought Bobito. Good thing he is in constant orbit of my ankles. He had the time of his life--- his life that was almost finished when he ran in front of a car that only stopped because I was hysterically crying in the middle of the road.

My point is that Alice, I can't wait to meet your new puppy!!! You will be a great planet for a tiny dog to orbit- all morning, work day and night.


Dave Curtin also loved "The "To" as he affectionately named him. If you are support Alice's new puppy say Heyyy Gurlll Heyyyyyyy!

King David and The Computer Screen

or, "We want to focus on beauty"

It was Christmas Eve at Joyce Hatcher's house when Mariah leaned in close to my ear and whispered, "Can you keep a secret??" I slapped both hands over my mouth and exclaimed (in a muffled tone, I guess): "No!! No, I can't!!"

By the look on her face I could tell that was not the right response. Luckily she decided to tell me anyway.

And so it began: 6 months of wild anticipation.

Mariah and Andrew were married on June 6 at Sajo Farms, a place so untouched by the rest of Virginia Beach that I thought I was in a Ralph Lauren ad. Everything about the event, the ceremony was beautiful and inspirational. Good thing there was a cocktail hour because it gave KW and I a good 45 minutes to twirl around gushing and being
proud of ourselves for attending such a lovely affair.

When Mariah's secret finally materialized, it was worth the wait. Andrew's reaction made me feel like a billion bucks, and I had nothing to do with it.

I wish I had a glass to raise right now to the newlyweds, who are lovely and full of visions of peace, creativity and community.





On a more melancholy and full circle note, I mourned the end of their wedding evening, much like that awkward early evening time of Christmas day-- when you know you must savor every last moment because what you've waited so long for is almost done.

Cheers to Andrew and Mariah Miller!

Beware of Crazy Ramblings:

12th grade AP Literature stands out in my memory as being pretty traumatic. Actually, as I type this up instead of studying for my Final tomorrow, I realize how I am displaying my own irrational cognition. Blah blah. Anyway, besides the fact that I loved every second of English class, I just remember my teacher Mrs. Linz pounding one fact into my brain: MARRIAGE=DEVASTATION. Gee wiz! Why would we talk about that? I have no clue. Must've been those books they made us read.

I digress. One thing that horrified both EP Playa and I was when Mrs. Linz went to great lengths to describe how your high school lovers will soon slip out of your conscious and by spring semester of your first year of college, you won't even remember their names. Now, I believe the direct quote from her was: "many soft caresses I felt and lips I brushed up against in dark cars at night and while I remember the sweet touches, their names have long since slipped my mind."

My point is, I am married now and I am not devastated.

But my real point is that I bumped into this poem the other day in the ODU bookstore and it is to blame for the flooding memories of AP Devastation (as we took to calling it). Ted Kooser is a jerk for stealing my imagery, but I will forgive him because it is clunky at best. Also, cool poem.


TECTONICS - Kooser


In only a few months
there begin to be fissures
in what we remember,
and within a year or two,
the facts break apart
one from another
and slowly begin to shift
and turn, grinding,
pushing up over each other
until their shapes
have been changed
and the past has become
a new world.
And after many years,
even a love affair,
one lush green island
all to itself,
perfectly detailed
with even a candle
softly lighting a smile,
may slide under the waves
like Atlantis,
scarcely rippling the heart.