Monday Morning Quiz... I'm afraid this quiz may be wildly inaccurate, based soley on my results, but What color crayon are you?
Talk like a Pirate day is just over 200 days away; plenty of time to stock up on grog-flavoured pirate mints
. Knitting scarves is so ten minutes ago, I dare you to attempt a Classic Nintendo-themed cross stitch sampler or to whip up a couple of crocheted deviled eggs. [ Craftzine]
I thought I was pretty clever building a replica Stonehenge. Anchor Stone building sets for all those budding Cathedral architects out there. [Everything Isn't Under Control]
In Kenya, the bookmobile has only one hump. I work in a library surrounded by books no one wants to seem to read; while on the other side of the globe, people gather around a bookmobile that can spit hoping to get a battered copy of a John Grisham novel, Green Eggs and Ham, or that Astronomy text gathering dust in your attic. [boingboing]
While I'm on the topic of literacy (or at least on a topic that could be tangentially linked to literacy) here are some humorous points in the Wikipedia discussion for "spatula."[ found on The Good Reverend]
Many many, many thanks to Cheryl for this Monday Madness post. The floor is open to any and all. Send your posts to email@example.com
Or maybe it is more of a Monday Morning Madness type of post. Every now and then I hear something on the news or see something on the internet and I think. 'Sarcasmo would have posted a link to that.'
So to lighten the mood around here a little, I offer you the following. I know it's not the same. But I think she would appreciate the effort:
Instead of Bridesmaids You Have Bodyguards- I don't even want to think about the shoes to go with it!
Say Cheese- Hey look. They still have dials on their tv's in West Country
The Pen is Mightier Than the Sword- and a bit pricier too.
Hurry up and Pass Go - Sorry . I can't find a link to this one. But I heard on the local news that a new Monopoly game is in the works. This one can be completed in 20 minutes. I think the Sarcas-family still has a game in play from 1997.
I'm Comin' Out- Well, I'm not. But if yu know someone who is there's a card for that.When you care enough.
Okay- so that's what I've got. And you should know that this does not imply I'm going to do this on any regular schedule. ( Was that a sigh of relief?) Should any of you guys have some links you would like to share, please send them my way. Please also provide you own witty commentary.
A couple of random memories about Star. Star was a great game-player. She always did well at any game she played, and usually in the first go-round. I remember the first time she took on the board game my bro and I have been working on (sinceforever, it seems) she won pretty handily. It was a stealth victory,too, one of those where you suddenly wake up, look at the table, and say, "Holy crapÂ?we're getting slapped around like a rubber doll at a sadists' convention!" She was always gracious in victory, though,although she was not above some restrained cabbage-patching when success was particularly sweet. Whenever Dan and I wanted company for dinner, Star was the first person we'd call. She always insisted on bringing something, usually a sweet and chocolatey thingie from the local patisserie. One time she brought these volcano cupcakes that, after a brief microwaving, would erupt in chocolate when they were eaten. Oh yes...she knew what was good. A few weekends ago, I was thinking about how we had too much food for just two of us, and I was just reaching for my cell phone when I remembered that no one would answer the call I was about to place.* No voicemail either.*Yes, her number is still in my phone, where it will remain until either my phone gives out or I do. Naturally, this made it difficult to add Star's mom's number, so I used "Sarcasmom", which by the way is possibly the most delightful identifier ever to come up on my phone.***
I guess I should get introductions out of the way. My name is Michael, and I'm Star's boyfriend.
A good little while ago Star's mother asked around for people to write things about Star; communicate tales of her and the way she impacted others lives, funny little stories, adventures, what have you. Reading everyone's stories and memories has been great. Amazing, really. It's been comforting to read everyone else's thoughts.
So it's only right that I tell a story in turn, and I've wanted to, but it's been hard. I've been fighting with it for a while now, as I'm sure all of you have done before me. I've rifled through my memories of her, of us, and found so much that I love. Every moment of our time together, to tell the truth. But picking one and reliving those memories in order to write them down has not been easy.
This is what I have; or at least what I'm sharing for now.
93. I'd still like to be any of those things, except maybe a back-up singer. Now I'd like to front the band.
94. I don't sing well enough to front the band.
95. This does not stop me from enjoying karoke with friends.
Our first date was to a Karaoke night. Well, our first-first, as we would later have a second-first that involved a Rowan Atkinson movie and cheese and coffee, but the first was Karaoke.
Star and I had been emailing back and forth to each other for a couple of weeks. We both had developed some pretty intense crushes on each other while sitting at the gaming table together at our mutual friends' Dan and Neil's. We would talk about this time together later, and how we were both nurturing the kind of crush where you immediately think that "No, that person can't be in to me. They are simply too amazing."
The gaming led to the exchange of email addresses, which in turn led to emailing, which led to flirting, which led to Star asking me if I felt like coming to her friend Tom's birthday Karaoke bash at Moriarty's the following Saturday. I was jittery, but I needed to say "yes".
Saturday came around and I was still nervous. Even more so, really. I'd been on dates before; plenty actually, but there was something about this woman that, well... she made me excited and nervous and daydreamy all at once. And these were things that I patently did not do.
I took the train down into Center City and walked from the thirteenth street station over to the bar. I went up the stairs and there she was, sitting with her friends, smiling and laughing. She was wearing a tee shirt with the one-word statement "Pirate." emblazoned along the front in a swasbuckle-y script, simple blue jeans, and those cute little strappy shoes that she wore most of the time. She got up when she saw me and we hugged. We talked for a minute and she told me how happy she was that I came. I've got to tell you, I was, too.
We sat down next to each other and ordered drinks. The bar was loud, filled with the sound of college kids singing off key, and I kept trying to think of things to say so that I had an excuse to lean closer to Star. I babbled, cracked jokes, asked questions, and generally rambled on.
A couple of songs in and it was Star's turn at the microphone. Tom had requested that she perform "Brass in Pocket," by the Pretenders. It was his birthday party after all, so Star was honour-bound. Star weaved her way through the crowd and up on to the stage, grabbed hold of the mic, and the music came up. And I was fixated.
I should point out here that I was fixated from the first second I saw her. But her, on stage, singing a song about how she was going to make me notice her, and she was going to use everything that she had? Well, yeah. Completely unintentional bit of kismet there, but amazing nonetheless.
And she could sing. She had a great voice, high and clear and with just a little bit of attitude. They would have called it "sass" in Motown. So I sat there and I stared and couldn't even think about holding back the smile she put on my face.
She came down off the stage and walked back to the table. We hugged and I told her how great she was and she smiled and brushed off the compliment like she would so often do. We sat down and laughed and talked a little more. There was more flirtation, obvious to everyone but the two of us. So obvious that her friend Jeremy had to lean forward and ask "So, are you guys dating?" I stammered and stuttered and couldn't get a response out. And then I noticed that Star couldn't respond either. We both looked at each other from the corner of our eyes and smiled nervously.
Later that night I would suggest that I walk her back to her apartment. We would walk back together, playfully arm-in-arm. I would ask her out while we were sitting around together, just the two of us, in Rittenhouse Park. We would also kiss and, for the first time ever, I would understand the meaning of the phrase "take my breath away". Which she would do over and again.
But boy, could my baby sing.