Intelligent Falling

For those of you who have been following the developments of the so-called "intelligent design" debate, check out this article from The Onion (I love that rag!). Apparently gravity is just a theory, too; it's called "intelligent falling."

This also falls in line with the beliefs of those who follow Spaghetti Monsterism or have been touched by his noodly appendage.

Steam Heat

After a fabulous Tofurkey day which I shared with Ray & his parents (as per usual) with the addition of my brother, who came down to visit from NYU, I am now trying to get back into the swing of things. Post-Thanksgiving means Christmas season, and Christmas means gigs. Gigs are good, but rehearsals abound, and I won't be having a whole lot of time to myself come Monday.

One thing that's been a little frustrating to me is the state of our bed. We have a waterbed, and a few months ago (sometime in the summer) the heater broke. In the summertime, it was kind of nice to have something cool to lie down upon, a break from the endless heat. But now it is wintertime, and the cold water in the bed is not nice at all. Ray keeps saying he's going to fix it, but he's said that ever since it broke, some months ago, and now I'm starting to get annoyed.

Another unfortunate occurrence is the fact that last week the pilot light in the water heater went out. Not a problem, we thought. All we have to do is relight it, and voila! I can take a hot shower again. Except that every single morning since that's happened we've had to relight the pilot light. Not cool. Actually, not warm, but you know what I mean.

The day after Thanksgiving I awoke with the sensation that I had been sleeping on an ice block. Hoping a nice hot shower would help me feel better, I stepped into the shower thinking the water would eventually warm up, but ended up taking a frigid five-minute shower. I hate being cold. I need some steam heat, and now!

Quickie

Just a quickie to tide you over until I have time to write more...

My 31st birthday was on Saturday, and I got the best present ever. I got my engagement ring.

Suburban Wildlife

Last night, when Scratchy was halfway in and halfway out the door, deciding whether or not he wanted to spend the night outside, he froze, staring at something in the yard. It was a raccoon, wandering about in the leaves. Ray yelled at it and told it to get out of our yard, and after looking around as if it were lost, it scuttled off. Scratchy puffed himself up as if to say, "Yeah! And stay out!"

Ray told Scratchy that he should stay away from the raccoon unless he was with his brother. I told Scratchy that both he and his brother should stay away from the raccoon, because that thing could beat them both down without batting an eye.

We have had some other visits from various wildlife from time to time. There is a possum that waddles, in typical R.O.U.S. style, through the bushes almost every night. Sometimes it climbs the stairs to the sunroom on the second floor where the cats stay, and the cats have a staring contest with it through the closed glass sliding door.

I have a theory about some of our new animal neighbors. There is some construction going on a few blocks away from our house. What once was dense forest just this spring is now laid bare, getting paved over daily to make way for a housing development or a strip mall. Just a few weeks ago, I saw a hawk alight on a tree next door, crying out, perhaps to his family? He has lost his home to the developers, I think, and was trying to relocate. Perhaps the raccoon is also just trying to find a new home, now that he can no longer live near the construction.

In the meantime, we're bolting down our trash.

Daddy Dadaism

Last night I had the most bizarre conversation with my father. I'm still not sure what happened during the phone call, because I think I was transported to an alternate dimension. What I thought was going to be a linear conversation about the logistics of him coming over for Christmas turned into random allusions to the Gila Monster interspersed with Thai epithets. I spent the evening really confused. I suppose I'm used to being confused, but I guess this came at me sideways. My family is really crazy. I'm serious. They're crazy.

Name Change

After lying in bed last night mulling over the secrets of the universe (and after reading Adam875's comments), I have decided that it is actually a bit of a misnomer to call my friend with the creative spelling "Mrs. Malaprop." So I have now dubbed her Miss Spellign. No, that is not a typo; I did that deliberately to honor her typing and proof-reading skills. And this way, you can't confused her with any Beverly Hills 90210 alumni.

Mr. & Mrs. Malaprop Strike in Tandem

Caution: if you are easily offended at people making fun of spelling errors, do not read this post.

I know I'm a snob. I freely admit it. Spelling and grammar matter to me, and I don't care who knows it. I'm the person who finds and points out the typos in menus. I think it's a family thing, because the other day, my brother and I were in a New York deli and snickered together at the rows upon rows of individually labeled "Pumpkin Laof" and "Zucchini Laof."

So when my friend, Mr. Malaprop, sent out another one of his updates, I was once again amused at his witless spelling. Throughout his email, he continually mentions his search for leather "bottels," which, when I first saw the word, figured it was a typo. But he consistently spelled it that way throughout the entire letter, even using different forms of the word, like "bottelmaker." Because he was trying to do some research into the history of bottlemaking, I thought perhaps he was quoting a 15th century spelling of the word, but when he did actually quote a piece of literature, he spelled the word correctly. Go figure.

I have another friend (or, as she would put it, "freind") who throws all spelling rules out the window when she types, and it's almost an art form how she finds new spellings for words. I was recently invited to a party of hers where the subject of the invitation itself reads, "Not having enought [sic] fun?" I am having fun now. Ooh, write something else. Please, please write something else. I haven't had a good giggle since...since Mr. Malaprop sent me something!

Wedding Contest

So in doing some research on our Hawaii wedding, I found a contest out there to win an all-expenses paid wedding in Hawaii. I know it's a marketing ploy, but hey, why not enter? After all, it doesn't cost anything to do so.

Here's the rub: we need to get the most votes online in order to win. That's where I need your help.

Go to http://www.theweddingcontest.com/ and click on the "vote" button. Search under "Maren" or "Ray," and vote for us. Then tell your friends to do the same.

I know this is hokey, but it doesn't cost you a thing either (except a minute or so), and it would be the best wedding present in the world if we won.

Magic Candy Bowl

One of my roommates loves to shop for bargains. He's always cutting coupons and waiting for sales at the supermarket, and when something does go on sale, he buys the whole shelf of that one product. So usually the day after Easter and the day after Halloween, we are inundated with candy bought at bargain-basement prices.

I hate having candy in the house. It sits in the candy bowl, mocking me and my plans for weight loss. Ray is always snacking on candy, which just annoys me more, and sometimes I find myself with my hand halfway into the candy bowl before I realize what I'm doing. And I just had a visit to the nurse at my gym to get my body & strength measurements, to find out that not only have I not lost weight or changed my body mass in the last six weeks that I've been to the gym (and I've been going 5-6 times a week, I'll have you know), somehow I seem to have lost strength. How is that even possible?

So on Halloween I took the evil candy bowl and put it outside the house with a sign taped to it, saying, "Please Help Yourself. Happy Halloween!" When I brought it back inside at the end of the night, it was empty. Hooray, I thought. Finally I am free from the constant temptation of candy.

But when I got home from work a few days ago, I noticed that the candy bowl was full, once again, ostensibly with on-sale post-Halloween candy. I curse you, post-holiday food sales! I curse you, magic refilling candy bowl! You are the bane of my everyday existence!

Hoodlum Hasidim

On Monday, Ray and I had to go home, rent a van, and bring it back to the Ren Faire. The leather shop needed to be packed up, and none of us have cars big enough to bring back all the crap they've accumulated over the summer, at least not in one trip. Thus, it was up to me to keep Ray company as we traversed half the state of Pennsylvania twice in one day.

Luckily we had plenty to talk about, such as setting a date for our wedding (March 17, 2007), a place for the wedding (Oahu, Hawaii), how big the wedding should be (SMALL: only 30 people or fewer, so don't be offended if you don't get an invitation), and if we should have a big reception when we get home for our friends who can't make it all the way to Hawaii (that's a big yes).

At one point, we stopped at a rest stop, and I saw the strangest sight. There were about three or four guys sitting at a table outside the rest stop building, smoking and chatting. Nothing strange about that, I know, but they all had thick beards, those curly locks in front of their ears, and all of them had tassels or tzitzit hanging under their shirts. I immediately pegged them as Hasidim, but there was something incongruous about them: they were all wearing brightly colored baseball caps and smoking.

Now, I'm not Jewish, so if I offend any of you with my ignorance, please forgive me. But my only exposure to Hasidim have been at banks and on the subway in New York. And usually they're dressed in black and white, no colors at all, so the baseball caps were throwing me for a loop. And since I've never seen a Hasid outside a non-smoking area, I have never seen them smoke. I suppose my feeble mind thought their strict religious practices would prohibit smoking, since it's bad for you. So the first thought that came to my mind was, "Hey, these are hoodlums. They're sitting outside wearing colors and smoking! Those are some real bad boy Hasidim!"

Anyway, the thought gave me the giggles. Hoodlum Hasidim are taking over the rest stops on the PA Turnpike. Guard your daughters and lock up your dogs. There's Trouble with a capital T that rhymes with P that stands for Pareve.

Frolicking At Funky Formal

When we got to the Funky Formal, the party was in full swing, with DJ Kiltboy at the helm, playing all the funky music he could get his hands on.

About a half an hour after we got to the party, Kiltboy picked up the microphone and said, "This has been a very romantic weekend. I understand two people got engaged." Ray and I looked at each other, and several of our friends started whooping and pointing at us. I had told Kiltboy earlier that day, but didn't expect him to announce it, and although I don't mind public humiliation, Ray does tend to shy away from the spotlight. Then Kiltboy continued, "Angie and Darren, will you come on up here? This one's for you." Another couple came running up on stage and started slow dancing/making out. Ray and I looked at each other, both puzzled. Angie and Darren? Who the hell are Angie and Darren? Someone stole Ray's idea of proposing on the last weekend?

Well, whatever. We figured maybe Kiltboy would let them have their time, and then announce our engagement next. And sure enough, after a few more songs, he picked up the microphone again and said, "Well, it seems romance is in the air. Can I have your attention please?" Then he handed the microphone to another guy who proceeded to propose to his girlfriend right then and there! "Jeez," I said, "is there something in the water?"

We waited the rest of the night for DJ Kiltboy to announce our engagement. We figured he MUST have it on his agenda, right? No. As they were kicking us out, Ray approached Kiltboy, who smacked his forehead and said, "Dude, I'm so sorry. I was so drunk I totally forgot to announce your engagement." Riiiiight. My theory? Kiltboy doesn't remember my name. But I'm just keeping that one between you and me.

The Quality of an Inn

On Sunday night, we went to the Funky Formal, an annual end-of-season event for the merchants and cast up at the PA Ren Faire. It was being held at a different hotel this time, due to a change in organizers. I don't think anybody really cared where it was, as long as there was music and alcohol, but those of us who spent the night at the hotel cared a little.

The ironically named Quality Inn left much to be desired in the way of hospitality. Our room was difficult to find because the rooms were outside ("Nobody told me this was a motel," complained Ray) and the light in front of our room was out. When we entered the room, we figured the entire breaker was gone because the light switch wasn't working, and we had to stumble about in the dark for a lamp, any lamp, that would turn on.

When we finally had light in our room, I wasn't horrified at our surroundings, but Ray was upset that we had no in-room fridge for his drinks. The shower had mold on the ceiling, and it looked like someone had recently absconded with the hook on the back of the door. When we were ready to go to bed, we heard the people next door having a huge fight, and the walls were so thin, I thought of mediating their discussion through the wall. All in all, we came to the conclusion that just because it's called the Quality Inn doesn't tell you what kind of quality inn.

The ballroom was quite nice, though; much better than the other place. It's as if the owners spent all their money on the meeting rooms and didn't have enough money for the actual bedrooms.

Stay tuned for adventures at the Funky Formal.

Roses

I almost forgot...here are the roses Ray proposed to me with. I had so many that people thought I was the rose seller. I had to put a sign on the basket telling everyone they weren't for sale. Maybe I should have sold them for $1,000 a piece to pay for the wedding. What do you think?

Ending the Suspense

All right, finally I have some time to tell my stories.

This past weekend, at the last weekend of the PA Renaissance Faire, Ray asked me to marry him. I was standing on the steps of the As You Like It/Up Your Kilt booth (where I usually do my spinning) and he came walking up the hill with something big under his cloak. I was curious to see what was under there, so I tried peeking under the cloak, but he wouldn't let me. Finally he pulled out a huge basket full of roses, most of them red, but some yellow, which have significance hearkening back to the first bunch of roses he gave me.

I thought that was the big surprise. Ray's not much for grand gestures or anything, so giving me flowers on the final weekend of faire was big enough for him, or so I figured. But then he said, "I don't have a song, I don't have a poem, I don't have a speech, but I do have a question for you. Will you marry me?"

Well, of course I said yes. And my friends at the booth are so excited that it happened in their shop that they intend to memorialize the event by painting a little red heart where I was standing. Hopefully, they said, this will start a trend.

So after we got engaged, it was up to me to announce to everyone at the faire our happy state. Ray, in true form, didn't even tell the Leatherboys what he had done. The reactions from the people he worked with ran from predictable cynicism of, "Haven't you learned from my mistake?" to "Why didn't you do it at our shop? After all, it is where you guys met." (Strangely enough both statements were made by the same person). Another friend shouted to the entire faire grounds, "Ray has FEELINGS!" And of course, everyone offered their congratulations.

There are more stories, but I'm going to give them to you in piecemeal so you can have something to look forward to later. :)

How Engaging

Dude, I know it's been almost three weeks since I've posted anything, and I have a bunch of stories to tell, but they're going to have to come in installments, since I'm so incredibly busy I can't breathe. This post is just going to have to hold you until tomorrow's installment.

I'M ENGAGED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!