You haven’t seen a Thematic Thursdays in a long time, so you know this post must be important. Don’t worry! I’m not going to ask you to loan me your pig.
I was at dinner with a friend, when the conversation shifted to world travels. She was appalled when she found out I had never been out of the country. She mentioned the opportunity to win a 25 day educational cruise, and I jumped at the idea, because my first thought was I can take Mooch!
I contacted her principal first to see if he would mind her missing a large chunk of December, and he said, “Opportunities like this don’t come along that often. I can imagine several years from now if you turned down this opportunity how you and Hannibal would be kicking yourselves. I believe perspective is needed here. I don’t yet know who [Mooch's] teachers will be, but I am certain they would be saying the same thing. You will work it out with them about a journal she can keep – maybe even a play or performance she can devise – to communicate what her travels meant to her. I for one want to be sitting in the first row when she does!”
I’m so excited! I just thought I’d share. See! I told you I wouldn’t ask you for anything.
I ask Hannibal this at least once per week. We check in. This week I emailed it to him, and his response is pasted below. I think I’ll email the question more often. *blush*
Short answer: yes.
Long answer: There are joys with you that cannot be replicated, cannot
be gotten anywhere else, that would not be worth trading for a billion
dollars, the end of life as we know it or any of my other
non-you-related fondest dreams.
Smoothness of your thigh against mine, skies igniting with merest hint
of your smile, the real one with genuine surprise or joy, not the
ridiculous affectation we both use for emphasis. Hook shots your
brain concocts for even the most everyday of conversations, grandmama
quilt security of your support and appreciation. Whisper of your voice
against my chest or neck after kids are tucked in.
Sure, challenges hang between us like natty draperies in
less-than-favorite aunt’s den. Exhaustion makes vocabulary coarse
instead of common, bare third wire desires scalding sleepless
sensitivities, forcing flinches and recoils at awkward moments. Our
matched nihilism manifests in different ways — me dreaming of
rewriting reality one paragraph at a time, yours retreating into
neatly arranged family function.
Payday makes work worthwhile, rewards of you and pint sized
reflections of your grace far outweigh fleeting burdens of bluster,
dropped calls, late night snores.
You are everything, cosmos of possibility held fast to tedious
firmament by history best left dusty, undisturbed. You are aviation,
dream of cloud tops and scraping sky, wings tracing lines to follow
footsteps of chasing toddler or chauffeuring firstborn.
Would you tell me, how could it be any better than this?
I knew sperm could pop and lock — breakdance, even — but do calculus? This is some all new shit even for Myshell Tabu. Men love to boast about all of the tricks they can do in the bed, but nothing turns me on like the idea of duck butter doing math. Why? Because I like smarts. That’s why. Being smart in the pants is like icing on the … let’s move on.
According to scientists, sperm have to calculate the rate of change of concentration in order to react to it by altering their speed.
How are they doing it? That’s a bit less clear. The best guess scientists have now is that sperm have a pair of proteins to which calcium ions will bind at different speeds, allowing sperm to sort of chemically derive the rate of change. That’s not for sure though. Whatever is going on in there, sperm-speed is determined by something that requires calculus to express.
And why do they do calculus? It’s pretty simple really. The amount of calcium-concentration controlling chemicals increases as the sperm get closer and closer to the egg. When they get really close the amount of chemicals in the surrounding area — and therefore, the concentration of calcium in the sperm itself — is pretty high. By reacting to the change in concentration instead of the concentration itself, sperm can have their speed changed any time, whereas if they just reacted to the concentration, they’d just keep getting faster and faster.
Sharpen up, fellas! If your balls can do it, you can, too! Now that’s an aphorism for our times.
… are just two of the cool things I found on the web this week.
I have always loved the idea of lining a bookshelf with wallpaper. It adds a little extra pizazz.
These pantry labels are soooo cute! I think I’ll design some of my own. I’m not crazy about the colors.
These are more my speed. I like the uniformity of them.
I also found a list of words that will put you on the Department of Homeland Security’s radar if you tweet them or Facebook them. Be careful.
In addition, a friend posted this video on Facebook regarding the CIA from the CIA’s mouth.
I don’t know if I would check my kids text messages unless I felt it absolutely necessary, but it’s good to know that “big brother” isn’t being stingy with rights to access.
The article, “9 Foreign Words the English Language Desperately Needs” offered up a few great laughs with words like “Shemomedjamo,” which means eating past the point of being full just because the food tastes good. Also apropos was, “Kikikomori (Japanese),” and it means “a teenager or 20-something who has withdrawn from social life, often obsessed with TV and video games.” Yeah … I’m pretty sure we call that an self-entitled, couch potato, douche bag in the U.S., but I could be mistaken. Last but certainly not least was “Kummerspeck,” meaning excess weight gained from emotional overeating. It translates directly to “grief bacon.” I can’t take it. You can read the rest by clicking the source link below.
By far the scariest thing I found was the Facebook ID Card. Given that they’re in bed with the CIA like Google, no comment.
… on the internet.
These are the top four things I’m tired of seeing/reading about on the internet (in no particular order, because I’m too sleepy to get that together). I don’t even spend that much time on the actual internet anymore — one to three hours per day max. Some stuff is really getting worn out at an Olympic rate. Here we go.
1. Downton Abbey – People in my feeds talk about this show so damn much that it’s actually playing in the corner of my screen on Netflix right now. I don’t even know how this is happening. The Brits have possessed my “computah.” (Truthfully, I just want to see what all the fuss is about, since I was years late catching up on MadMen.)
2. Pictures and stories from other people’s vacations – This one is largely due to jealousy, so pay me no mind. My last vacation was in 2008, so yeah …
3. Adele – The music is great. She’s beautiful. I’m just tired of hearing about it. Go play your ipod or enjoy your Adele DVD.
4. Real Housewives and Basketball Wives – Really? Is this still happening? You’re punching me in the face.