More bullet-dodging

Spring photos by yours truly, take 2.

Now with 50% less smart-ass

Here's Hannah's recent phone conversation with a school-mate (translated into English):

Hello. This is Hannah.
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Hannah!
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Han! Nah!
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I'm calling to tell you I can come to your birthday party on Saturday.
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I can come to your party on Saturday!
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On Saturday! Your party! I can come!
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Okay. See you Saturday.
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Saturday! Bye!

It seems there was a lot of background noise on the other end.

I like reading other people's blogs, but it feels kind of weird talking about them on my own blog. I mean, slightly voyeuristic or something. Usually I just plop them onto my blog roll and let people find them as they will. But today I am making a special case for Julia. She has been blogging (in addition to other things) her infertility problems, and although my heart breaks for her, you have to admire how honest and straightforward she is about her experience. So a little background on her for anyone who wants to click the link: She just had her 10th miscarriage after finding out through CVS that her baby had genetic abnormalities. She has a little boy who I think is 3 or 4, but she had miscarriages before and after she had him, I believe.

You guys dodged a bullet this time

Rather than subject you all to more of my photo-worshipping of Spring, I high-jacked John's yahoo photo album. So browse if you like.

Back in the Saddle Again

I was talking to John over breakfast about buying M-Day cards for our "mom-people" (my words; aren't I an elegant wielder of the English language?), and Hannah chimed in "people-heads." Apparently, "mom-people" is not generic enough for her.

On the bus, I sat across from a woman wearing the ugliest argyle sweater EVER. I couldn't even find anything through the power of Google to compare it to, so just imagine: argyle. hot pink. baby pink. acid green lines. I am afraid looking at it might have melted my brain just a little.

Now that the semester has started back up, I can entertain you all with my endless people-watching.

I was walking between 2 classes, and I saw a guy wearing one of those nylon caps? hats? that I guess are supposed to look gangsta. (Pardon me—it's a du-rag; how did I not know?) All I could think was, "Boy, you've got a panty on your head!" Then I stepped off the curb weird because I was looking at his head instead of the sidewalk and almost broke my ankle. Stupid panty-wearing stupid-head.

Le Marriage Royale had a really rockin' dress in their window for a while. Hannah and I both totally dug it. It was off-white with gold lace, and the over-skirt was artfully pulled up and tucked here and there, leaving bits of net sticking out. I can just picture Cyndi Lauper getting married in it.

But now they have a couple of dull dresses with ruffles. *yawn*

At some point in my work and school career, I became *that* audience member. While most of my classmates are staring and drooling (even on the first day!), I'm smiling and nodding in encouragement. I hope I don't come across as deranged. Oh, well; it wouldn't be the first time.

The girl who sat directly across from me in my American novel class has the exact same zombie smile as the infamous H. R. from high school. (Big hint if you need it: she was our valedictorian.) Scary!

I "taught" my first class (meaning I was along for the ride), and attended 5 of my first 6, and my head hasn't even exploded yet. Go me!

I *heart* Spring! 

Spring! Glorious Spring!