:-o

I officially suck at writing in my blog.

The end.

Out-of-the-box

So, my roommate Kathy was madly clicking on her "stumble!" toolbar last night and happened upon the cutest date ideas ever. Now, at this point in my life, I don't exactly have opportunities to use these ideas, but I will remember them for a later, more relevant time.

1. Go on a search for as many good climbing trees as possible, climb as high as you both can in all of them, compile photo evidence

2. Go to a major chain bookstore and leave notes to future readers in copies of your favorite books

3. Have her dress up as a ghost and you dress up us Pacman. Walk around downtown holding hands, and whenever anyone sees you two, pretend to be embarrassed, and run off screaming “wocka wocka wocka.”

4. Create photo evidence suggesting that you went on an adventure that didn’t really happen

5. Dress up as superheroes and stop at least one petty crime (ie. jaywalking, littering)

6. Build forts out of furniture and blankets and wage war with paper airplanes.

7. Try to visit as many people as you can in one night and turn as many things inside their apartment upside-down as you can, without them noticing

8. Go to the airport, get the cheapest, soonest departing flight to anywhere when you show up, and stay there for a weekend.

9. Write a piece of fiction together. Outside at a cafe. Ask strangers when you get stuck.

10. Dress to the nines, pretend to be married, and test drive very expensive vehicles at an auto dealership.

11. Do the lamest tourist thing in your area that you have both secretly wanted to do forever. Have an unabashed good time!

12. In the middle of the night, drive to the beach, so you arrive just as the sun is rising. Have a breakfast picnic, then fall asleep together. Bring a sun umbrella.

13. Drive somewhere unknown and have dinner in a city you’ve never been to. With fake names.

14. Go to a minor league baseball game under the stars. Tell each other stories about how bad you are at athletics. Randomly cheer for both teams. Eat lots of Cracker Jacks.

15. Go around the city with sidewalk chalk and draw hearts with equations inside on random things

16. Walk around a city and perform short silent plays in front of security cameras

17. Walk around the city all night and find a place to eat breakfast at dawn

19. Go to a restaurant and convince the cook to create something completely new for you.

20. Rent a movie you’ve never seen before. Set on mute and improvise dialogue.

A reason to be grateful

Today was a great day. I got up early as usual. I took Max and Grace to school as usual. I spent most of my day babysitting, with a few hours of free time interspersed. As usual.

So, why was it a great day, might you ask? I went to Bible study. I went there and was struck with the single thought that, here in Seattle, I have finally found a community. A community of mature, 20-something women--plus our wonderful leader, Megan. A community where I can be open and honest and REAL. That said, I don't always feel comfortable being open and honest and real, but I'm working toward it. I want to be that way so very desperately. I'm realizing how deprived I've been in recent years without weekly fellowship with a specific group of people. And now I have it. What a blessing.

Uh-huh, so true

Cupcakes

Cupcakes make me happy. I saw this photo, and I got a happy feeling inside. Then, I got the urge to go to Cupcake Royale here in Ballard.




And then I saw this and laughed:

Horrendous

I came across these "bad student metaphors" while using my stumbleupon toolbar (love that thing) and couldn't resist posting them. Don't ask why certain words are larger and in color. That's just the way it happened.

Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two other sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.

His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.

She caught your eye like one of those pointy hook latches that used to dangle from screen doors and would fly up whenever you banged the door open again.

The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't.

McMurphy fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup.

Her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after a sneeze.

Her eyes were like two brown circles with big black dots in the center.

Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.

He was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree.

The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.

Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.

The politician was gone but unnoticed, like the period after the Dr. on a Dr. Pepper can.

They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth.

John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.

The thunder was ominous sounding, much like the sound of a thin sheet of metal being shaken backstage during the storm scene in a play.

The red brick wall was the color of a brick-red Crayola crayon.

He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant and she was the East River.

Even in his last years, Grandpappy had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long it had rusted shut.

The door had been forced, as forced as the dialogue during the interview portion of "Jeopardy!"

Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.

The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.

The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while.

He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck either, but a real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.

Her artistic sense was exquisitely refined, like someone who can tell butter from "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter."

She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.

It came down the stairs looking very much like something no one had ever seen before.

The knife was as sharp as the tone used by Rep. Sheila Jackson Lee (D-Tex.) in her first several points of parliamentary procedure made to Rep. Henry Hyde (R-Ill.) in the House Judiciary Committee hearings on the impeachment of President William Jefferson Clinton.

The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.

The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM.

The dandelion swayed in the gentle breeze like an oscillating electric fan set on medium.

It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with power tools.

He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up.

She was as easy as the "TV Guide" crossword.

Her eyes were like limpid pools, only they had forgotten to put in any pH cleanser.

She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was room-temperature Canadian beef.

She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs.

Her voice had that tense, grating quality, like a first-generation thermal paper fax machine that needed a band tightened.

It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to the wall.

Every minute without you feels like 60 seconds.

The horizon swallowed the setting sun like a dog sucking an egg, but not quite.

Happy day

I found out a few days ago that I got into the ARC Masters and certification ed program at SPU. This is how I feel about it:

Love this

Photography scavenger hunt. If you've got a digital camera, you can make a date out of taking pics. Pick a theme and objective. For instance, go to the park and take pictures of the 10 most obese pigeons you can find.

~Courtesy of the stumbleupon toolbar and a website I can't recall the name of

I want to be an Irish dancer when I grow up...

Learning to Irish dance is my new life goal. I took Maslyn, one of the girls I babysit, to her dance practice today. This was the second time I had done so, and each time I'm more and more enamored of this kind of dancing. It resembles ballet in that it has hard shoes and soft shoes, but otherwise it is much harsher and regimented than ballet is. But still, I love it. I love how it looks, and I love how I feel when I do some of the steps.

Rainbow cake

I will make this cake one day:

http://omnomicon.blogspot.com/2009/01/how-to-make-rainbow-cake.html