Saturday night found Miles craving popcorn. A couple of years ago, we spent the smartest twenty bucks that we've ever spent and purchased an air popper. I'm not overly fond of the microwave stuff, so I brought stove-popped popcorn to the table of our relationship. My partner judged it as more delicious than the nuked fare, so we continued on with our popcorn preparation in this manner.

Then I noticed a pattern. Miles would pull...a "Miles". He would crave the popcorn, he would pop it...and then leave the pot for me to clean. This got old very fast, as you can imagine.

So, in 2003, for health reasons of the mental, physical, and relationship sort, we acquired an air popper. It's the handiest thing in the world...idiot proof in every way. (Did you read that, Miles? Idiot proof in every way.)

You throw a half-cup of popcorn seeds into the device, plug it in, and walk away. Easy, no?

Well, last Saturday, Miles sprouted so many extra thumbs that I held my breath every time he approached something somewhat delicate...you know, like me...erm...and the dinnerware. Why I thought he could handle the air popper escapes me.

*sigh*

I've installed weblog software (HAH! Miles installed weblog software) on the server late last night. I keep opening the control panel, poking at with with my index finger and then withdrawing quickly—as if it were a scaly reptile with really big teeth. (No offense meant to the scaly reptile with big teeth owners in the audience.)

So, look for that update over the next couple of days/months/years. Much handier than hard coding—and perhaps I could get Miles to post more often if I didn't have him held at gunpoint to keep the html clean every time that he does. You never know.

My mom gave me a vase, and I have been at a loss with what to fill it with. In the end, it has become a glorified sugar [SPLENDA] holder, as it sits next to the coffeemaker.

Wouldn't is absolutely stink—hypothetically speaking, naturally—if you had a web site, which you updated somewhat regularly and which inspired a somewhat healthy stream of daily visitors, and that domain expired...like 11 days ago?

Furthermore, wouldn't it stink if the domain renewal notices were sent to a less than reliable recipient, say a husband-type character, and he kept forgetting to renew the domain until his wife, the more regular of the site updaters, stumbles to her computer to find her web site gone and her e-mail flooded with friendly notes concerning the welfare of said site? (Thank you for letting me know the situation to those of you who e-mailed, by the way! I appreciate it!)

Now, hypothetically still, I wonder how such a forgetful husband-type would be most properly dealt with?

I savored the blissful, 72° day with a walk around Greenfield Lake. With four miles behind me, I saw two little boys ahead of me. I noted that they weren't very old, perhaps 8 or 9 years old, and thought nothing more of them as I passed by without shifting my pace.

Immediately, I heard whispers—fervent, excited, and curious-rimmed whispers. I heard the melodic tapping of little running feet and then a tug at my shirt. I stopped and turned around.

"Well, hello," I greeted.

They returned the greeting and the shorter of the two inquired, "How come you can walk so fast when you're so little?"

The other added in, "We're little!"

I replied, "Well, I walk lots and lots every day. I built up my gingerbread muscles!" I groaned inwardly. I really have no control what comes out of my mouth! Most of my humor fails by adult standards, what I did I just subject these poor, innocent children to?

While I was heading back into the ring for round 5 of me vs. my idiocy, the boys were looking at me with eyes the size of silver half-dollars. (are those still around?) In a slow motion synchronization, they looked at each other, then to me, and then back to each other. In unison they squealed, "FAST AS FAST CAN BE! YOU'LL NEVER CATCH ME!" and raced each other in the other direction, giggling all the way.

For the entire last mile of my journey, I decided that with the whole of adulthood rolling their eyes and grimacing at my attempts at humor, I've finally discovered my peer group. Little kids totally get me.

Grown ups are so dull.

The lights are much brighter there
You can forget all your troubles, forget all your cares
So go downtown, things'll be great when you're
Downtown — no finer place, for sure
Downtown — everything's waiting for you!

Saturday, Miles and I donated to ourselves. It was a difficult week for Miles. He was splitting his time between work and visiting his mother in the hospital. Emotionally and physically, he was exhausted. Over the course of last week, I finally felt myself fitting into this version of my life again, but it has been an emotional adjustment. Friday was particularly difficult for me as I learned the unhappy results of my mother's latest scan.

Saturday dawned dreary and drab. We breakfasted luxuriously on oatmeal and coffee before snuggling on the couch. 8 hours of slumber later, we felt alive again.

Sunday, with the sun shining bright and the birds chirping, I refused to spend another day inside. I begged and moped and pouted to go walk around downtown. Finally, Miles gave in.

The fresh air freed our captive worries. There's not really much to entertain you with out of this excursion, as all we did was walk and talk and hold hands. But—!

I did manage to restrain Miles from running into Elijah's as we entered the vicinity. Elijah's happens to have some of the very best seafood chowder that I have ever tasted. Carolina Chowder, if you will. We're big fans. You get within a block of the riverside restaurant and that's seriously all you can smell.

He kept groaning, "Honey, I'm so hungry! Chowder would be so good! We'll ask for a table on the deck just as you like?"

"We've got food at home," I replied sternly, thinking all the while, "God that smells good."

One night (long, loooong ago—during my freshmen year of college!), my parents, some friends, and I dined together in La Crosse, WI. The party consisted of my roommate (and best bud) Sarah, my across-the-hall pal Anna (for pronunciation: think fauna, not fanna), her mother, my mother, my father and me. We went to a placed called Edwardo's, and the six of us split into separate parents' and children's' tables.

Being the brilliant young scholars that we were, we immediately flipped over our place mats and reached for the crayons.

We were coloring for 5ish minutes when Sarah made a sound of disgust. She gestured angrily at Anna and me. She said to me, "YOU! YOOOOUUUU always draw flowers! Always a flower! FLOWER FLOWER FLOWER! I'm sick of flowers!" Then, looking to Anna, "And YOU! YOOOOUUUU always draw ponies! Always a pony! PONY PONY PONY! I'm sick of ponies!" Dividing her gaze between the two of us, "YOU TWO have NO imagination! I draw EVERYTHING. Harrrumph!" Sarah is as silly (and as sweet) as a person can get.

Anna has changed quite a bit from that night. I think she still likes ponies best, but now she draws other stuff too. She also sews and knits and does lots of really talented things.

I remembered this vignette as I was walking this morning. I was out to clear my head. I grabbed our camera on the way out, thinking I might capture a touch of spring along my lake. I returned from the exercise much refreshed. I looked through my digital shots and found...flowers. Lots and lots of flowers. Obviously, I haven't progressed so artistically as my good friend Anna.

Erm...and I just caught sight of the post from yesterday. There really is no hope left for me.

I'd have to say that that is my most creative title yet! In short, we were walking downtown yesterday when I saw a flower. Let's hear it for my titling skills! Woo!

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