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Friday, March 10, 2006
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freaky friday redux
One more, for the team, folks...
- What celebrity (not Tom Cruise or Oprah, because done and done) do you actually believe could successfully start their own cult?
- In three words or less, what is the single most profound issue affecting society today?
- If you went to a major awards show tomorrow, who would you want to bring as your date?
- If you could plant any kind of tree in your front yard, what kind of tree would it be?
- What do you do when you need to relax?
- What person in your life offers you the most consistently useful perspective?
- Do you ever ask for advice?
And just so you know... I'm WEARING SHOES TODAY.
6:26:54 AM 
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grinning goodnesses.
I love snow in Vancouver in March. I love how it takes us by surprise.
I love how we panic, even though it doesn't stick one bit. I love how
we stare out the windows of our office as though there were a mushroom
cloud forming in the distance, poised to obliterate us all. I love that
we put on scarves to walk fifty feet to get a latte. But more than
anything, I love that I was wearing silver flip flops when the Great
Storm of 2006 hit. Havaianas should sponsor me for their Extreme Team.
If they have one. Which likely they don't. Though I would be a great candidate if they did. Just saying.
I love the tulip riots that seem to be going on all over the city right
now. Everywhere you look, there are buckets and pots and stands full of
pinkyellowredpurplepinkwhiteivorypeachorange tulips, set in bunches of
five. They cost more at Whole Foods than they do at the street vendors,
but less at Whole Foods than they do at the florists. Cheapest of all
are the tulips you receive from your beloved, which of course I have
not received (not possessing a beloved), but which my roommate did,
since she has a fiance. Apparently, fiances give tulips. And two lips.
I have my own two lips, but no tulips. Perhaps next week, when the
coffers are full once again.
I like full coffers. And coughers, though I tend to offer them a lozenge rather than let them go on hacking.
I love our coffee pot at work, which can never stay full enough, and
somehow manages to shut off at random times -- like just exactly when
you are desperately craving a cup of good, warm java. It is a willful
pot, I suppose, choosing to be hot only when it feels inclined to do
so. I admire that kind of self-determination. Also, with the work pot,
you can tell who has loaded up the filter with the grinds. Rob, who
sits to my left, likes his coffee somewhat transparent. He wants to be
able to guzzle it like Mountain Dew. Theresa, a former Starbucker,
makes it a little more strong, but also adds milk. Me? You can stand up
an Impala in the coffee I make. It's as black as the night and strong
as an ox and gets everyone wired enough that we laugh and laugh at
things that may or may not be funny. But back to what I love about it:
you really never know what you're going to get when you pick up that
pot.
In this way, it reminds me of a man.
12:21:18 AM
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© Copyright
2006
Meg Fowler.
Last update:
4/1/06; 11:43:38 PM. |
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