quarter century + 1

Today, my beloved Seastar turns the big 2-5...for the second time.  It seems like it was just yesterday we were celebrating her 13th birthday...gathered around in a circle playing spin the bottle, slow-dance version. Now, our prudish ways have long gone (perhaps a more accurate statement for myself and not her...) and we can no longer depend on a bottle to choose our partners for us - no, that's what Universities are for.

It's always on my Seastar's birthday that I reflect on our age.  I often have to think about how old she is to remember how old I am.  In any case back to my train of thought; when did we get so "old"?  I know that in the grand scheme of things, we're actually in the prime of our lives.  Mid-twenties?  Pfffft!  We're practically new borns!  But seriously...thinking about the age as an abstract, numerical concept...or thinking back to how I perceived people in their mid- to late-twenties when I was younger...I feel I should have accomplished more by now!  Or at least feel different in some way...no?  In many ways...I still feel like I'm 18...

Alas...I must accept the fact that the years are just going to keep on coming and keep on adding...well...unless you live in denial like my lovely...who will stay 25 forever...

In any case...I digress...partly because I don't want to think about it anymore, but mostly because I'm running on 2 hours of sleep and I'm quite certain this entry is rather incoherent.  

On that note...adieu...and good night.

Additional qualifications: wedding bands

"We have spoken of marriage and plan on it, however marriage is not financially nor logistically possible between now and August"  Mr. L, in correspondence.

Korea seems quite adamant that Mr. L and I tie the knot.  As though one of my relatives has infiltrated every possible foreign/international school, time and time again we are met with the same "Christian Biblical values" that beseech us to walk the aisle.  

Mr. L is currently in an "e-mail-off" with a director of human resources, explaining our unmarried cohabitation rooted in our "conscientious Catholic faith."  This was in reply to the director's e-mail informing us that although couples have formed and consequently married in their school faculty, if we are "intimately partnered" already, we may not be a strong fit to their school.  An eloquent writer, Mr. L is not having much difficulty drafting up a well articulated, concise rebuttal - though, he toyed with the idea of ending with an "if you were wondering if I know her in the Biblical sense...the answer is yes."

Update:  The director's reply is in; a roundabout "no."

Despite our pleading, the lack of jewellery on our fourth fingers bars our entry to yet another school.  

curses to cereal

...I'd never thought I'd say those words.  But today...oh today...CURSES I say!  Context?...

I was famished after my workout considering I had a pretty meagre breakfast/lunch today...and it was well into the evening when I had wrapped up.   Mr. L explicitly said that we weren't going to have left over pasta tonight and that he'd cook something.  Oh sorry - I should have prefaced this post with a bold Ms. L DOES NOT COOK. I'm not one to cook up a frenzy when I am upset.  In fact, I am not one to cook when I am hungry.  I will wait hours on end until someone *Mr. L* comes home to feed me, or will snack on no-preparation-needed foods.  No.  Ms. L does not cook.  In any case, so I raced home (sadly to an empty house) to eat my favorite snack: a full bowl of oatmeal crisp (of the Almond variety) with a little bit of bran...to you know...keep it regular. ("eeeeeeuw" says you.  "shut it - it's biology" says I).  I was trying to eat it in a hurry though.  Mr. L has a vendetta against cereal.  Something about preservatives?  Anyhow, no matter.  Point is that Mr. L does not like that I eat cereal at the frequency and amount that I do, particularly before dinner....something about spoiling appetites.  Anyway, so as I'm hurridly shovelling the wonderfully delicious flakes of goodness into my mouth, Mr. L walks through the door.  I froze like a deer caught in head lights and was immediately met with the all too familiar "you're doing something you shouldn't be" gaze from Mr. L.  After a good scolding, Mr. L made me cook dinner as punishment.  Okay he didn't actually say "punishment" but that's what it felt like to me.  Needless to say, I was not pleased.  Curses to you cereal, CURSES!

... yes I am aware that I am deflecting my blame to an inanimate object.  Listen you; nobody likes a Captain Obvious.

Private, home concert

No no no. It's not what you think - this post is not an adjunct to my fornication post...

It's Friday night and I'm just tinkering away on my Mac in bed as Mr. L strums away on his guitar.  There's no other place I'd rather be than right here, listening to him play his heart away right into mine.

Melted Snowflakes

"I watched as the words fell off his lips
 like dancing snowflakes off my eyelashes
 in an instant they were gone
 leaving me dazed
 wondering if they were ever really there"