A Christmas conversation in the Hughes' car:

A screech from the back seat quickly followed by a second screech
Dan:What?!
(third screech)
Dan: What’s wrong!
Sarah: It pinched me!
Dan: Why is it out in the car?!
(sobbing)
Sarah: I was holding it, I didn’t know it would pinch me!
Dan: That’s why I told you not to take it out!
Sarah: I forgot! (sob, sob)
Dan: You forgot? I just said it when we got in the car!
Sarah: I know you said, but I didn’t know- I forgot! IT PINCHED ME! I HATE IT! (sob)
Ayesha: (burst into tears)
Sarah: I hate it!
Dan: Did it pinch you too Ayesh?
Ayesha: (sobbing) no .. .
Dan: Why are you crying?
Ayesha: It pinched her! And Sarah hates my crab!!
Sarah: Stupid crab!
Dan: It’s not the crab’s fault.
Sarah: I hate it! I hate it!
Ayesha: I’m never going to touch it again!

half hour later:

Ayesha: Daddy?
Dan: Yes, Love
Ayesha: Thank you for giving me my crab, I love it.
Dan: Yes, I knew you would.
Sarah: Stupid crab

What is painful to one generation is insight for the next.
-- Eli N. Evans

"The optimist proclaims that we live in the best of all possible worlds; the pessimist fears this is true." - James Branch Cabell

I was the youngest grandchild. My brothers and cousins were two to seven years older than me, and to indulge me as a toddler they called Santa Claus "Ho-Ho" because Santa Claus is kinda hard so say. However, I couldn't say "Ho-Ho" quite yet either, so I called him "Who-Who."

my brother: "Shannon, Who's coming on Christmas to bring presents?"
me: "Who-Who!"
brother: "Who?"
me: "Who-Who!"
brother: "Who?"
me: "WHO-WHO!!"
my mom: "Stop it! Leave that baby alone!"

I was just reminded because Ayesha was singing about the "partrige in a bare tree."
Merry Christmas

The other night I was playing 20th anniversary trivial pursuit until 5am with an inebriated bunch. I won. I also ended up with an indelible marker drawing of a cigar smoking swamp chicken on my arm. Quite the night.

Two Towers was so good . . . I got a head ache. I need to see it five more times! I can't wait for The Return of the King! Mmmmm . . . the king . . . see December 10 for visual. :0)

I put some baby pictures on Princess Shannon Group under 'family.' I don't know who I'm telling these stories to, I guess I'm enough for now.

Last night was beautiful. A white sky midnight, an April wind December. The city shining to hastening northern clouds and a veiled moon- shy sky lover. Last night was beautiful, but I was alone.

The reason for the season: To dress "little angels" in still creased pillow cases, misshapen wire wings and pipe-cleaner halos.

Groove is in the Heart

Whether picking up white go-go boots at a second-hand store or rounding up the troops for dinner at the chicest sushi joint, you've got psychedelic diva written all over you. People like you make it cool to be groovy again, which is why "Groove is in the Heart" is your theme song. The bubblegum-meets-techno melody of your signature song gets you to jog that extra mile, or take on extra work with a jive-y cock of your head. Deee-Lite's dancehall fave never gets old playing in your head after each successful interview and promising date. Yes indeed, this is the soundtrack to those dee-lovely days and delicious nights when you've got an audience, and your phone number keeps coming up in conversation. But you'll only share your number with that special someone who can figure out "the depth of your hula groove," dig?

Learning about other cultures:

SHE says: will you guys send me a little explanation of what it is you do on boxing day and why?
Manxett says: Sure
Manxett says: It's traditionally called St. Stephen's Day
SHE says: good, religious themed parties are the best
Manxett says: and its basically used to recover after Christmas Day!!! lol
SHE says: recover!?
Manxett says: Christmas Day is all about overeating, drinking, the Queen's speech, chocolate, etc!!!!!
SHE says: okay, we'll drop the queen's speech and keep the drinking and the chocolate
Manxett says: I like that idea!
SHE says: and chips,
SHE says: and salsa
SHE says: cause it's texas
Manxett says: why not! lol

This is how my brain works

I was reading a story about Marco Polo and how he chronicled his adventures through the east. He told a story recounted to him in the Persian city of Sevah about the wise men who went to see Jesus.

As I was reading the story of the wise men according to Marco Polo, I remembered I should get out my Christmas decorations, because even though I don’t have room to put up my itty-bitty tree, I could at least display my nativity set.

While I was pulling out my Christmas stuff, I found a snow globe the Manx gave me a few years ago. Seeing the snow swirl around in the globe made me think of winters in PA, and how I never liked snow.

Thinking about not liking snow made me think of this story my mom told me.

When I was a baby, about a year and a half old, I experienced my first snow. My mom dressed me up in my snowsuit; boots, hat and scarf, but she forgot to put my mittens on my hands and left them hanging on my “idiot string.” (That’s what my mom called the string she crocheted connecting my mittens to each other. The string ran through the sleeves of the coat and the mittens hung about an inch outside the sleeves so only an “idiot” could possibly lose one or both of her mittens.) She dressed me first and sent me out to the porch while she grabbed her coat.

She said I put my hand on the railing, which was covered in snow, and I just started screaming like someone was killing me. I had never touched snow before, and I didn’t like it.

After that she said I would cry every time she got out the snow suit, because I knew I was going to have to go outside and that cold stuff might get me again.

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ummm. . . .yummy!

Ft. Hood, the largest military base in the free world. (Which of course begs the questions, “where is the bound world and who has their largest military base?”) I forgot to ask, I was distracted by an airfield full of $18 million helicopters, and lots and lots full of sandy colored jeeps, hummers, trucks, tanks and other unidentifiable to me vehicles.

I went to Ft Hood this weekend for a visit with “any soldier” as in, during the Gulf War you could write a letter to any soldier and maybe someone would write back. He did and we’ve been pen pals since 1991. I suppose once you meet a pen pal, he’s not your pen pal any more, just a regular old pal. Drat, I don’t have any pen pals left.

I learned ever so much about tanks and helicopters, about military structure and funding. I found out that the stuffed mushrooms at Olive Garden have meat in them, remembered why I stopped watching scary movies years ago and realized that “Grease 2” has a really funny soundtrack. :0) I found out my soldier pal is sci-fi geek. I love sci-fi, but I’m no where near as geeky as he is. (Geekiness is in the details.)

I reminded myself of the importance of relationship over life’s details. This is finals week, were I a “responsible” student I would have stayed home to study all weekend. But how often does one get to meet a friend she started to know years ago?

As females we constantly carry the weight of wariness. It was encouraging to know after all these years that he wasn’t an ax-murderer who wanted to rape and pillage me. I’ve heard all the horror stories about meeting people though the mail and on the net, but I was lucky enough to find another really nice guy. (I think) I’m a pretty tough judge of character, and he minded his manners so well. Of course before we met I may have mentioned the fact that if he “messed with me” I would have to stab him. That may have figured in. It’s hard to say. He may have thought I was kidding, but sufficiently threatened I believe I am that close to the edge of insanity. Thanks mom, I got that from you.

something my coworker said to me: "I like you because you are always interested in something weird." Maybe it was the siamese twins, maybe it was the psychic tests, maybe it was the "God as an alien" discussion. I don't know.

"The reason for time is that everything doesn't happen at once." - Albert Einstein

A girl just walked in who smelled of toilet paper. Not used toilet paper (don't be gross) but that smell when you open a fresh 6 pack of Charmin-- that smell. How does one go about getting that smell? At first I thought it was my imagination-- I mean who smells like fresh toilet paper? But then she left and came back, and there it was again- the tp perfume in the air. I suppose there are worse things to smell like.

"She was nice, whey did you dump her?"
"She smelled like soup."
"She smelled like soup? You dumped her because she smelled like soup?!"
"Yeah, she smelled like tomato soup!"
So I married an Ax Murderer

I went to the used bookstore this weekend, just to look. I was looking, minding my own little used-bookstore-business in the atlas section, finding great pleasure looking at the pictures in a pretty little book called “Atlas of the World’s Highways” when someone behind me started talking.

I figured he wasn’t talking to me, so I flipped the page from the “Friendship Highway” which runs from Katmandu though Tibet to the “Scenic 101” which runs along the California coast.

The thing was, the guy behind me kept talking, finally he said, “Excuse me” and reached around me to get an atlas I was sitting in front of. Then he proceeded to inform me of the most intimate details of atlas publishing and cartography.

Mind you, I had asked no questions, but he proceeded to tell me not only were these atlases overpriced, but that they weren’t even the quality ones he was looking for. “Quality ones like the Rand-McNally 1978 Gold Medallion edition, which has county specific maps of northern Canada . . .” As he was talking I was thinking:
1. I’m trapped in the not-so-much-frequented atlas section of a used bookstore by a gregarious cartophile.
2. I wonder if cartophile is really a word? English is cool because you can just make up words and people still know . . . Wait! I’m trapped!
3. This man has an immense amount of knowledge about atlases and map-making in his brain.
4. He thinks I care.
5. His head is shaped just like an egg.
6. I wish I did care, why don’t I ever come across these kind of people who know stuff when I want to know stuff?

(30 minutes later)

7. He looks weak, I could probably take him.
8. I bet he would never approve of this Highway atlas, the pictures are superfluous, the maps are undetailed and probably (gasp) computer generated.
9. If I start easing my way toward the self-help I can escape into the fiction section—Here’s my chance!

I was just trying to mind my own-little-used-bookstore business.

I went to the geology building today. They have cases of rocks on display all down the halls. It was the first time I had been there, and it reminded me that I miss my rocks. My box of rocks that (when I live in facilities larger than a shoebox) I like to sit on my bookshelf.

A box of rocks? I can hear you—“That’s dumb as a . . . box of rocks.” I don’t care. Rocks are cool—if geology didn’t involved chemistry, and chemistry didn’t involve math (“Do you think anyone will love a girl who doesn’t know new math?” Sally from the Peanuts) I’d be a geologist. Exploring strange new rocks, new minerals and new formations (okay old ones, but new to me) boldly going where no geology girl has gone before!

Or I can just be an English teacher.