I whisper your name (ayradyss) wrote,
I whisper your name

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Random thoughts:

...I went to pick up my prescription today, and the pharmacist had it out of the bin and was handing it to me before I said anything. "Boersma, right?"
That was a little freaky. We only come in once a month, and he has a lot of customers...

Today's spam e-mail of the moment:
Don't be embarrassed by your small breast size any longer!
Up to three cup sizes in as little as a month!
You owe it to yourself, You Can Make this year the year you end your embarrassment
Anyone who knows me or has met me IRL. Can you think of anything I would desire less than three more cup sizes on my bra? I'm only wearing an F cup as it is, for fuck's sake.
I hate my breasts. They seriously cut down on my fashion choices.

Daddy leaves tomorrow for France. Everyone pray hard for him - it's a long flight. He's going to see my Michelly, the wunderkind, and spend Christmas with her. Yay! When I was in France, my Angel came to see me. And we went on a little tour of Europe, on trains and staying in hostels and cheap hotels. And on Christmas Day, in the wee hours of the morning, he asked me to marry him. Obviously, I said yes.
And then, for those who haven't heard the story, I discovered that he'd intended to wait until Paris, until New Year's. Which is a whole 'nother tale. I should start posting extracts from my France-Journal here. But anyway. I made him ask again when we got to Paris. He put me up on one of the concrete posts at the end of the Champs-Elysées, in front of the whirligig and the Ferris wheel and the mini-carnival that was going on in the place there, and he got down on one knee in front of a bunch of French People and asked me again. And I said yes, and it was lovely.
We had Christmas tonight, in honour of his going away. And I got new chopsticks and a Wolf Statue. And a new journal for my birthday. Daddy always gets me a new journal for my birthday, something unusual. This year, it had maps of New York for covers, which is ultra-cool. Lynda read my Christmas List, I can tell. Because she got me Miss Saigon and A Salmon of Doubt, which I mentioned by name. Both of which are uber-coolness. I can finally ditch the cassette-tape copy I made of it years ago. I love Miss Saigon.

Today's humour: Santa taken custody by Border Patrol.

Notes from the road:
Seen on the back of a bus-stop bench, the following:
Who's the Daddy?
DNA testing for legal or peace of mind.
I...don't know what to say about that one. $255 for an analysis, and a free sample collection kit...

Seen, green sign, side of the road:
Now entering a weed and seed community.
This one...I don't know. Sounds like an open invitation for the DEA to come in and do some serious crop investigations.

Two signs on a telephone pole:

One Way

And I laughed at that one. Because, apparently, we're all going direct the other way.

A row of identical black mailboxes, evenly spaced, which was odd enough until I looked up and saw that the houses were likewise identical - only changing insofar as they were mirror images of each other, in slightly different shades of grey or steel blue. That frightened me.

Dinner with the family was excellent, at the Iron Skillet in Indy. Then we went back and opened presents at their place. I got my Pan-Optic *dances excitedly* and Matt got his guitar. Now we just have to get him lessons in it, so he can play something besides contemporary Christian music (and not that well, to boot).
I find it fascinating that Angel's family seems to view the pacifism of the Church of the Brethren as something....quaint. I don't think they understand it really. And I don't think explaining it would change much. So I nod and smile a lot, chuckle, keep my mouth shut. His dad's in the Air Force reserves, after all. And he turned out okay.

And then we came home and looped to the beginning of this entry.

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