A quest to make sense of it all. Or a sense to make a quest of it all.

Tuesday, October 04, 2011

Memphis Reunions/Monkeys Riding Dogs

Pretty much everything since Thursday has been an overstuffed satchel of sweet.

Thursday night, Brett and I were supposed to leave Corinth around 6:15. He was *SHOCKER* running late from work, so I sat at his house while he sped through, Roadrunner style, and managed a shower and change of clothes in about 18 seconds. We left at about 6:35 and made it to Shiloh before 7:00. Don't ask how fast I was going. We made it just in time for Marcus's presentation about owls. He kicked it off with a clip from Bambi (the scene where the owl explains what "twitterpated" is). Awww. The presentation was really informative, and Marcus was funny and at-ease. I got a kick out of my overzealous companion, and got to stock up on chops-busting ammo when he yelled out the wrong answer to a question Marcus wasn't really asking the audience. (By the way, owls are forward-facing, and all owl eyes have pupils.) There was another couple there, and they were clearly not united in their desire to be there. The guy slumped in his seat and silently shook his head while his girlfriend asked questions like, "Do owls mate for life?" and "Well, what if the girl owl just gets fed up with the boy owl, can she leave him? What if the boy owl dies? Does she get another mate?" Then he asked a couple questions like, "Are owls endangered? I mean, can you shoot them? Can you eat them?" Great stuff. I kept feeling an elbow in my ribs and I had to look the other way to keep from busting out laughing. Afterward, we went to The Broken Spoke for a late dinner. I hadn't been there in awhile, and had almost forgotten how great the food is. It's a little pricey but definitely worth it, not just for the food, but for the atomsphere.

Friday, Brandon and Brett came over for Scrabble. Scrabble never happened. Instead, I made dinner and we all sat on the porch. Brandon entertained us with funny stories of the E.R. and I sat, watching. The guys I've dated have felt threatened by Brandon. Not in a romantic sense, but they've felt somewhat excluded, and sometimes jealous of the closeness. (One flat-out said he wouldn't "play second fiddle" and asked that I distance myself from my friend.) So I was interested to see how these two would interact. They've met briefly, but hadn't actually hung out. It went really well. They seemed to get along great, and I was relieved when Brett jumped into the nonstop banter and kept up. Later they both separately confirmed that they really like the other. I can't convey what a big deal this is. Sweeet.

(To any dude I may date, ever: Don't whine about competing with Brandon. If I'm spending time with you, there's something about you that I like. I hang with Brandon because he's hilarious. If you want to make me laugh like that, be that funny. It's not like some stupid competition, and it's not my fault if you're not as interesting as you thought you were. If you want my time, be worth my time. You don't just have a right to it upon meeting me. Knock my socks off and bring the funny.)

Saturday morning, I shamefully slunk out of town and toward Memphis as the Rotary Club's 5k commenced. About 300 people participated. I know, I was supposed to run it. BUT it happened to be the only weekend Lindsey and I have been able to work out for a visit. She's due in six weeks, and something tells me she's going to be a little busy after that, what with suddenly being a mom and all. The shame didn't last long, and I very happily pulled into LT's driveway. We had a lovely time, lunching at Slider Inn and kvetching and catching up. I couldn't stop looking at her belly. It's so amazing to me that my awesome friend is creating this awesome son who's about to be joining us out here in the daylight and oxygen. She had me touch one side of the belly and then the other, noting how one side was way harder because there's a human bottom/haunch on that side. Omigah. I don't have words for how trippy and stupefyingly cool that is. It was soooo good to see her again.

After I left Lindsey's, it was time to haul it home and get ready to meet up with Brett for the Tupelo fair. (He came in second place in the 5k, btw.)And what is so special about the Tupelo fair, you ask? Only this:

Yeah. Not a chance I could pass up something like that. We had a ridiculously good time, eating french fries, riding rattling death traps, and spending a truly embarassing amount of time in the petting zoo. I like cows, ok? I like their big cow eyes and their long cow eyelashes. If I have the opportunity to pet baby cows, I will grab that opportunity and hold onto it as long as I can. I have some moral objections to petting zoos, but I'm not a strong enough person to remind myself of those objections when someone asks me if I want to feed a goat, because I DO WANT TO FEED THE GOAT. So there was that. We rode the ferris wheel, which I believe to be the scariest ride on the planet. The other rides are too fast for the rider to really process fear beyond a fleeting, adrenaline-ish feeling. The ferris wheel? Nah. You've got a loooong time to think about how loooong the fall down would be. I was getting a little nervous up there at the top, looking down at the now-tiny cars and the now-tiny goats and marginially tinier freaky fat fair people (you know the ones). Luckily, Brett grabbed my hand and started singing the chorus to "Dancing on the Ceiling," so I was too busy being simultaneously impressed/horrified to be scared. We finished up at the fair, listened to Tool on the way home, went back to his house, and wrapped up the evening with a viewing of some disturbing Mr. T video from 1984.

Sunday, I cooked ribs and Indian food while the Lions beat the Cowboys. We watched tv in a near-comatose state of fullness and exhaustion. I thought about painting my nails. Didn't happen.

It was an exquisite weekend.

This is how people smile when they've just seen monkeys riding dogs:

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