The Craptastics

I spent the afternoon helping my father haul all our large pickup garbage items to the curb.  We’re finally getting rid of some choice items that we’ve been moving from house to house without actually ever using.

My dad has trouble throwing things away.  My mom instructed us verbally and in writing what needs to be tossed while she’s abroad, but I still needed to walk my dad through it.

For example, the trampoline.  Purchased in the late eighties, was quite popular until we grew old enough to be self-conscious of being seen by all the neighbours.  Hasn’t been used for about 10 years.  My dad said maybe the new baby would enjoy it.  Only if she enjoys tetanus.

Anyway, a couple of squatters have already set up residence in the large pile of junk.

Is there anything shameful in driving around looking for garbage to own?  Dan would say no.  But as I was still adding to our junk mountain, a woman got out of a van and started rummaging through the computer department, disassembling an old printer.  I leaned on the dolly I was using to transport worthless material possessions to watch her when her husband called from the van, “Are you throwing away that dolly too?”

Thankfully I don’t have to go to any effort to dispose of his body cause I just threw it on the pile.

Is anyone looking for a large desk or a large pullout-couch?  If so… some free ones are sitting at our curb.

After work tonight I met Thea at Square One to get sized for a wedding band.  This little jewellery store was having a sale so… there you go.  I dislike wearing rings or watches and such knicknacks… but this is a symbol of undying love or something so I’m going to go along with it.

So I had it measured… and the consensus is short and fat.  I should have opened with that line.

Thea has lovely slender woman fingers… and I have fat little sausage fingers.  I’m ring-size nine.  Thea… 3¹/².  As I looked at my melted mozerella fingers oozing over the sheen of white gold, I was reminded of when a woman’s bra digs into her fleshy flesh and the “backfat” (Kate Dias‘ vernacular) bulges over the straps.  I have backfat on my ring finger.

So now we have wedding rings.  Just four more months till we wear them.

I just talked with Dan on the phone.  This was my half of the conversation:

But I actually feel a little better.

I have lots of stuff to write about for a change, but I don’t feel like it.  But I think I can squeeze out something, I guess.

Last night, for some reason, as I was driving home after dropping Thea off I remembered this girl that I worked with at Indigo Books in Burlington about three years ago… Carly.  She was about 15 or 16 at the time and typically teenager-unhappy (she wanted to move to France or something).  Over a couple conversations our personalities clicked and we had some fun chats in the break room.  For whatever reason she looked up to me… I was a little wary of it because I wanted to make sure she didn’t develop a crush or anything… The last time I saw her was the last shift I worked there… She made me a little card-note thing saying she was going to miss me.  I told her I’d drop in to the store again from time to time but the only time I went back was this past Fall when I was out with Thea and Dan while doped up on pain medication for my wisdom teeth so I don’t remember much of the occasion.  I don’t think she was there, anyway.

I don’t know why I suddenly thought of her.  I remember at the time wanting to find a female mentor for her because I didn’t think anything more than fun chats in the break room would be appropriate for us… but knowing that someone solid to look up to could really help her.  I don’t know.  Last night just found myself hoping that everything turned out alright for Carly.

It’s weird how you can forget about someone for three years and then they pop back into your head.

I watched Signs this afternoon.  I saw some of The Sixth Sense on TV with friends last night, and it reminded me that I had borrowed Signs from Paul and hadn’t watched it.  When it originally came out all my friends went to see it without me (not bitter) and hated it so I never bothered trying to see it.  But I thought I’d give it a try today.

I liked it.  I remember my brother complaining about a shot of an alien strolling down a street… and admittedly that scene is cheesy.  But I see what the director was trying to do with the movie on a whole.  And I think people didn’t like it as much as The Sixth Sense because people are more ready to pretend to believe in ghosts than aliens.

Anyway, I liked it because of the whole “coincidences” theme going through the whole thing.  To be honest, I tend to be cynical about the whole Christian-coincidences thing.  It seems like we can find miracles in just about anything if we look hard enough.  Doesn’t seem all that miraculous to me.

That being said… sometimes it does feel like there’s a connection between things… an invisible web stretching between events and people.  And once in a while we sense the caress and whisper of The Plan.

The scenes with Mel Gibson and his wife really touched me too.  Now that I have somebody with whom I intend to spend the rest of my life… I have a fear of that gaping hole of vulnerability… and how badly I would be wounded if I lost her.  Part of me is ashamed of this fear because I’m embarrassed of how far I’ve come from my comfortable aloofness.

My glasses broke this morning.  The ravages of time… and the full weight of my body… crushed them.

I bought these glasses four years ago.  I was waiting for the unbeatable prices of  Korea to buy new ones… but fate, it seems, has stepped in.

So… off to Lenscrafters, I suppose.