My Home Is Not a Place

I’ve been meaning to post this literally for years, but I haven’t done a good job of posting anything lately. Anyway, this is yet another post related to our wedding. Really, I think it’s the last one. Probably.

As my home continues to grow larger, I find myself thinking of it again.

At our reception, we were toasted warmly, comedically, and all-round brilliantly by the Best Man and Best Woman. Despite having such a hard act to follow, I took the mic to say the following few words.

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Those toasts are certainly a hard act to follow. So I promise not to be funny or heart-warming.

They say … you know … They … Them … the ones were always quoting when trying to spout conventional wisdom. They say that “Home is where you hang your hat.” But that’s never quite rung true for me. That’s just geography. However, in the somewhat confusing nature of conventional wisdom, They also say “Home is where the heart is.” That seems closer to the truth for me.

But I really like what the Roomie Pastor said at the end of the ceremony about finding a home wherever we’re together. That seems right on, because it seems like maybe Home is about the people who are there.

I’m fortunate to be able to think about so many people as Home:

My amazing, incomparable parents.

My big brother. My grandparents, aunts and uncles.

My friends from high school. Their parents.

My college friends, and some of their parents. Hmm. That seems like a lot of parents. I’m thinking maybe I needed a lot of guidance.

My friends from FUN and the beach. People I’ve worked with. My softball friends. The Girl’s family and friends.

And, for the past few years, more than anything, the woman I’m so fortunate tonight to be able call my beautiful bride.

I look around this room and see so many of those people here, and I can’t help but raise my glass to all of you. Because I’ve never felt quite so at home as I feel right now.

Thank you all for being here to welcome us home.

How We Did It: the Ceremony

A couple of folks had told me after the wedding that they wanted to read our vows or get a copy of a reading or whatever, and I thought, “If only I had some platform I could use to publish information to multiple people at once …”

So I’m going to post the ceremony here on the Chronicles. Besides, if that ceremony isn’t part of the Chronicles of Abs, I don’t really know what is. It’s not exactly what was said, in that I’ve changed some names, and I think the officiant made a couple of last-minute tweaks for better deliverability, but it’s pretty much what we came up with ahead of time. All the talking is from the Roomie Pastor (it’s not just a clever name – he was actually my roommate for the last three years of college) unless otherwise noted.

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[Guest Seating. Jazz playing.]

[Music switches to Forrest Gump Theme. Step-mother of the bride is seated, followed by mother of the groom , then step-father and mother of the bride.]

[Music switches to “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” by Israel Kamakawiwo'ole. Roomie Pastor, groomsmen, and groom enter. Bridesmaids process. Music stops.]

Welcome. I am the Roomie Pastor and I have the privilege of performing this marriage ceremony today.  On behalf of Abs and the Girl and their parents welcome and thank you for being here. They are delighted that you are here today to share in their joy during this wonderful moment in their lives.

By your presence, you celebrate with them the love they have discovered in each other and you support their decision to commit themselves to one another for the rest of their lives. Abs and the Girl would like to see this day as an affirmation and celebration of their commitment and not the beginning of it.

Today their relationship changes. All of us know it will grow, and become stronger and better. Indeed this day is a day of hope. A day in which Abs and the Girl demonstrate their commitment, devotion, and mutual respect, as well as their faith and love in themselves and one another.

You who are gathered here as witnesses are called to continue your support and encouragement as they unite in marriage. You are not here to simply hear words uttered in ceremony, or just to witness the first kiss between husband and wife. Your participation in this ceremony is as important as your participation in their lives. So, we ask for your active participation in this ceremony. You should feel free to clap and cheer and laugh when it strikes you.

One more thing. It’s an unusual situation, but some of you may know Abs by the name his mother calls him or a shortened version of it. After 20 years, I can’t bring myself to call him anything else, so I’m going to be calling him Abs during the ceremony. But if you know him as something else, you should remember that I called him that.

We are about to start. Everyone, please stand.

[Pachelbel’s Canon in D plays as the bride processes, escorted by her dad. They walk to the front, dad kisses his daughter on the cheek, shakes Abs’s hand, and takes his seat.]

Please be seated. 

We all know marriage is more than two people standing up here repeating vows. There is an art to any creative activity. So too in marriage.

• Part of the art of marriage is finding room for the things of the spirit.
  So to you two I say continue in your search for the good and the beautiful in this life.
• Part of the art of marriage is being flexible.
  So in your marriage cultivate flexibility, patience, understanding, and a sense of humor.
• Part of the art of marriage is to comfort each other and strive to be each other’s best friend.
  Most important, develop the capacity to forgive and heal your differences day by day.
• Always remember that your love can prevail. It can be the miracle that invites you to learn, to blossom, to expand your horizons.

From your new marriage relationship can come the nurture and strength you two need to face the world.  Only from this moment on you will face the world together in a new way.  Today a new family is born and our world will be the better for its birth. For this we all celebrate.

Now, the Girl’s sister-in-law, will do a reading.

[The Girl’s sister-in-law]:

From The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams

"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."

"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in your joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

"I suppose you are real?" said the Rabbit. And then he wished he had not said it, for he thought the Skin Horse might be sensitive. But the Skin Horse only smiled.

"The Boy's Uncle made me Real," he said. "That was a great many years ago; but once you are Real you can't become unreal again. It lasts for always."

[Roomie Pastor]: Now the Girl’s step-sister will do a reading.

[The Girl’s step-sister]:

“I Wrote a Good Omelet” by Nikki Giovanni

I wrote a good omelet...and ate a hot poem...

after loving you

Buttoned my car...and drove my coat home...in the rain...

after loving you

I goed on red...and stopped on green...floating

somewhere in between...

being here and being there

after loving you

I rolled my bed...turned down my hair...slightly

confused but...I don't care...

Laid out my teeth...and gargled my gown...then I stood

...and laid me down...

to sleep...

after loving you

[Roomie Pastor]:

This is the part, in a traditional ceremony, where the wizened holy man offers sage words of advice distilled from the ages.  Well, I suspect I'm too young and handsome to be wizened, and I'd like to think I'm here today as your friend.

So as your friend, what I offer you is something maybe more valuable: a promise. I am here for you.

So are we all. Look around you.  Many have come from far and wide, not just for a great party, which we'll have, but to pledge their support for you, to say not only "yes, I am here for your wedding", but also "yes, I am here for your marriage".

I am your parent, your brother, your sister, your dear friend. I'm here for the both of you. If you need my advice, a different perspective, or just someone to listen. We are all here for you.

And, let me speak for everyone here today, when I say, I love you both.

And now that we have pledged our support to you, it is time for you each to declare your love and promise to each other.

 

As you share daily life,

do you promise to love, honor, respect, and cherish each other,

to celebrate life's joys together and comfort each other through life's sorrows?

Do you promise to help each other discover and follow your own true path in life,

to try to appreciate your differences as a source of richness,

and above all to do everything within your power to permit each of you to become the people you are yet to be? 

[Abs and the Girl]: I do

[Roomie Pastor, repeated by Abs]: I, Abs, choose you, the Girl, to be my wife.

I promise to be a partner to you,

to lean on you when I need strength,

and to hold you when I am strong.

I promise to create with you

a home filled with love and peace,

balance and freedom,

healing tears and laughter,

friendship and compassion.

I will strive to be slow to anger

and quick to forgive.

I will respect you as an equal,

knowing that we do not complete,

but complement each other.

I will love you deeply and truly

for all the days of my life.

[Roomie Pastor, repeated by the Girl]: I, the Girl, choose you, Abs,

to be my husband.

I promise to be a partner to you,

to lean on you when I need strength,

and to hold you when I am strong.

I promise to create with you

a home filled with love and peace,

balance and freedom,

healing tears and laughter,

friendship and compassion.

I will strive to be slow to anger

and quick to forgive.

I will respect you as an equal,

knowing that we do not complete,

but complement each other.

I will love you deeply and truly

for all the days of my life.

Exchange of Rings

  May I have the rings please.

Abs, place the ring on her finger and repeat after me:

This ring I give you
as a symbol and pledge
of constant faith
and abiding love.

Do you, the Girl, receive this ring as a token of your pledge to keep and perform these vows?

[The Girl]: I do.

The Girl, place the ring on his finger and repeat after me:

This ring I give you
as a symbol and pledge
of constant faith
and abiding love.

Do you, Abs, receive this ring as a token of your renewed pledge to keep and perform these vows?

[Abs]: I do.

 

By virtue of the authority committed to me by the law of the state, I now declare that you, Abs and the Girl, are husband and wife.

Abs, you may kiss your bride!

[Smooches. Then faces crowd]

Ladies and gentlemen, it is my privilege to present to you for the first time, Mr. & Mrs. Abs.

[Crowd: goes wild]

May your hearts be united in love, and your lives intertwined forever in tenderness and devotion and may you find a home everywhere on earth where you are together.

[Newlyweds literally skip down aisle to “All I Want Is You” by Barry Louis Polisar]

I’m No Boy Scout

The first time I proposed to a girl was via email.

Shockingly, she said no.

I suppose I should provide a little more detail. This all happened several years ago, when I was youngish, had a much fuller head of hair, and still sported the goatee. I met the girl in question, whom we will call Pomona, on a free trip to the Caymans, courtesy of the Pretty Boy. I know you’re probably thinking that I was a fool to let an island encounter get me carried away and lead to a marriage proposal. OK, there’s a large percentage of you who don’t believe there was an island encounter in the first place, and, sadly, you are quite correct. Many of us on the free trip hung out and partied on and in the white sand and blue, blue water of the Caymans, and it was a magical week. But not quite so magical as to lead to a semi-random hook up for me.

Nonetheless, a number of fun people from that early December trip – most of whom lived in the Philly area – decided to try to have some more good times together by coming to D.C. to ring in the new year with those of us who were clever enough to already live in the D.C. area (i.e. me). Many emails flew around (this was before IM really caught on), and I traded several with Pomona. In one exchange she divulged 3 highly unusual things:

1. She and her dad had season tickets to Temple basketball games, not because they had any connection to the university at all, but solely because it allowed them to see some college hoops in person.
2. She happened to know off hand that UNC had lost the night before, but was bummed that she was unable to watch the game.
3. She liked Bobby Knight. (As a speaker. Mainly, anyway. She was trying to book him as a speaker for some event she was coordinating. I point this out not because that makes her right or smart but it’s such an unusual stance for anyone other than an old school IU fan to have.)

That was quite a lot to take in all at once, and I couldn’t help but be more than a tad shell shocked. I decided to go with some email flirtation, and I concluded my response with this gem:

I have to admit that I am fairly disturbed by many of your comments.  A woman who likes college basketball?  What?  She pays close enough attention to know that UNC lost last night?  She likes Bobby Knight?!!  It's a crazy thing.  I can't really explain how the existence of these things turns my world on its ear.  This may sound a little forward . . .  I mean, I know I don't know you that well . . .  but, um . . . well . . .  will you marry me?

Those of you who know about these things will know that my efforts at flirtation are doomed to fail because, as a middle reliever, I’m actually incapable of flirting. And, seriously, that could have possibly been just scary enough to scuttle the whole New Year’s Eve outing. However, my email wasn’t really about marriage. It really just meant, “I’m impressed by you, and I’d really like to date, or at least shag, you, and I’m going to attempt to convey that desire in a possibly creepy and definitely opaque manner that I misconstrued as charming, funny, and flirtatious.” As it turned out, Pomona wasn’t outwardly creeped out (or she at least hid it well), given this response:

I'll have to say no to the marriage proposal today...though, if you present me with a really big ring tomorrow night, I might reconsider.

That was actually somewhat funny and definitely cleverly deflecting of the whole issue. I suppose it could be summed up as, “I’m not particularly interested in shagging you, but I see no reason not to keep my options open for the time being.” Of course, I took it at the time, as was my wont, to mean, “I’d get wit cha if you were rich.” (I believe Kanye had a song about that sort of thing.)

I wrote something back, inevitably about how tough it was on an Abs in those days, and let the whole thing drop.

Right?

Wrong! At least about letting it drop. Yadambetcha I wrote about how tough it was on an Abs in those days. Because it was. However, instead of letting it drop, I opted to respond in a clever, charming, and witty way, even if doing so made me risk going a bit over the top. I decided to buy her that big ring and give it to her the next night.

So, when we met up at the hotel where we were crashing to head out for the New Year’s Eve festivities, Pomona surprised me by immediately asking, “Did you get me a big ring?” I wasn’t expecting her to continue our little joke, especially in front of our whole group of people, and I was more than a little perturbed by her stealing my surprising and charming move’s thunder. Still, there was nothing for it, so I somewhat reluctantly reached into my pocket and handed her a big, red ring pop. I suppose if I were being especially clever, I would have gotten down on a knee or something, but I was too put off of my game. She said, “Thanks,” smiled and we all headed out for the night.

An hour or so later, Pomona had a brief moment to chat, and, as she looked at the big sucker on her finger, I asked her about it: “So you were expecting me to give you a ring pop?”

“Yep.”

“Really?”

“Well, it was the obvious response.”

Sensing my distress at the utter failure of my charm, at being so “obvious,” she opted to be nice: “I liked it though. It was still funny. I would have liked it better if it was a green one, though.”

She was borderline stunned when I reached in my pocket and pulled out a green ring pop. I hadn’t been able to decide between the red or the green, so, big spender that I am, I bought both. “I definitely didn’t expect that,” she told me.

It was dumb luck that I was prepared for that situation, and one might think it was looking good for the Kid right there. What happened next, you wonder? Did Abs shock the world and manage to ring in the New Year with some fireworks? Did he capitalize on this unprecedented show of suavity?

Absolutely not. The details are a bit fuzzy, but at that point, some of our friends came over with shots, I proceeded to get famously drunk, and she went home with one of the guys she had traveled down from Philly with, which was really her plan all along, unbeknownst to me.

So what’s the point of this, you ask? I’m not exactly sure, other than that I was recently thinking about this story and how that second sucker ring made me so prepared. And it just didn’t matter because she just wasn’t particularly interested.

The next time around, I wasn’t nearly as prepared. I only got one ring for the Girl. Lucky for me, she didn’t say she would have preferred a green one; she just said, “Yes.”

So let those boy scouts “be prepared.” Maybe sometimes it’s better to just get it right.

Best Text Ever

So what's the best text message you've ever received? I remember being out at a bar with a quasi-random assortment of folks one night when a guy showed one the females hanging with us a text he had just received from a woman he knew (before you ask, this text was not from his wife or girlfriend or anything of the sort). The entirety of the message was, "Sex?" You might laugh and be inclined to answer with an Austin Powers like, "Yes, please." Or even, "Grr, baby! Yeah!" But the thing is you would be right on point. That message wasn't inquiring about whether the guy was currently in the clutch; it was an invitation, and you have to love the casual, if-you're-not-doing-anything-else-how-about-helping-a-girl-out sort of tone. I was impressed and astounded. Unsurprisingly, that guy exited stage left, with a quickness even.

You, being the swave and deboner type that you are, have probably received dozens or even hundreds of those types of texts. (Or should I call them sexts?) I, on the other hand, am not nearly as cool as you, and I have never had such an experience. Realistically, I can't quite fathom it. So it leads me to wonder, in the absence of such cell phone delivered prurience, what the best text I've ever received is. Even though I'm not good at superlatives, I think I have an answer. Last week, I received a message from cancer battler Shawn, and it has to take the cake. It simply said, "NO SIGNS OF CANCER!"

He gives more of the dets in a blog post (I especially like the text from his uncle that he included), but I say goodonya, Shawn! Excellent work and excellent news! That's the kind of news we should all get more often. Maybe we should all start telling each other we're cancer-free, just to remind ourselves of something to be thankful for.

A Newer Perspective

The Chronicles started out way back when as a follow-up to an email about me shaving off my goatee. Since then, I've talked about all sorts of random things, and linked to stories I found amusing and generally bumbled my way about. Sometimes I struggle to come up with something to write about.

Now I have a new piece of news that undoubtedly belongs in the Chronicles of Abs. Not long ago, I talked about how I had played a bunch of different roles in weddings, and I had just added Officiant to the list. Well, it looks like I'm going to able to add the role of Groom at some point because the Girl officially agreed this past weekend to add the Wife to her list of sobriquets.

You read it right; I am engaged! Last Friday, as the Girl and I watched the first exhibition game of the IU basketball season (streaming online because it wasn't on actual TV) in our living room, as the band played the William Tell Overture and the cheerleaders streamed all over the court with flags (this sequence is one of the Girl's favorite things in the entire world), I brought out her favorite dessert from the restaurant where we went on our first date, and I asked her to marry me. As you might expect, trumpets heralded, the clouds parted, we were bathed in a shimmering light, the band was muted behind a Hallelujah chorus, laurels and wreaths and nosegays floated through the air. Perhaps all of those things distracted her, because she said yes!

We are excited! And thrilled!! And I am clearly overdosing on exclamation marks! I just had to share that with you, because you are my one and only, most favoritest Internets. Have a marvelous day.

My Kind of PSA

The Pretty Boy recently pointed me to a PSA that Dave Barry wrote. Despite the fact that I actually wrote one once, I'm not really so big on PSA's. Jenny, eat something. Johnny, go to school. Jeremiah ... why the hell do all these kids' names start with 'J'? It's ridiculous! But I digress. The point is that Dave Barry had a message to send out, and he did it in his inimitable style: by talking about his fear of having things shoved up his butt. I love this kind of PSA. It made me laugh out loud more than once. It had a sweet side to it. And, best of all, it is currently not even the least bit applicable to me. Good times.

Given the subject, it seems a good time to give a shout out to a guy on my softball team. I've been meaning to post this for a long time, but I just haven't managed it. Last December, I got this email from Shawn. Needless to say, it wasn't good news, but I told him I was definitely not betting against him, and his attitude about the whole thing was both inspiring and refreshing. That's been true ever since he was diagnosed, and I'm glad to say that he's still playing softball with us. That in itself is impressive, and his story has been a repeated source of goodness over time. But it's this particular post that I think sums it all up. Sometimes, the Good Guys win.

Have a great weekend!

Madness On Demand ... in HD

In case my last post didn't clue you in, March Madness is very nearly here.  And to make it even better, it looks like CBS is working with cable companies to make HD game highlight packages (along with some other stuff) available on demand for free (yes, free!) during the tournament. That's good work. Now that I'm a DirecTV customer (just so the Girl and I can watch IU games), I've signed up for the Mega March Madness package, but I would have been excited about this if I just had cable.  And if I didn't have my TiVo Series3, which won't do video on demand. And if I had a cable company HD box.  And if my cable company was one that did a deal with DBS.  Still, it's a Good Thing.

Luck be the AbsPod

Here's a follow-up on yesterday's post explaining once again that not only am I an idiot, but allowing myself to be irritated only leads to bad things.

All day yesterday I was wondering what the possibilities were that I would get my iPod back. When I filled out the Lost Item Form at the airport on Sunday night, I asked the woman working there what she thought my chances were of me getting the AbsPod back. She said, "Well, if it's still there and our people find it, they'll send it back. But if someone else found it, it's pretty much gone." That was an impressive non-prediction from her. So I calmly fretted about it for much of the day yesterday, willing myself not to call early and often. Instead, I waited until about 3:30 to call, at which point no one answered. I got a voice mail box indicating that I could leave a message. So I did, but I felt very sure that no one would call me back.

The hours crawled by without a return call, and I tried to decide whether that meant that they didn't find it in Michigan, or whether they just didn't have it back at DCA yet. Surprisingly, I wasn't able to work that out, but I thought about it any way. After 3 hours, I decided they weren't going to call me back at all. Still, I decided that I would not inundate them with phone calls, as that would drove both them and me crazy. So I waited.

I was talking with the Girl around 7:40, and I got another call from a phone number I didn't recognize it. I quickly answered to find that it was the woman from Northwest Baggage Services, and she said, "You know we got your iPod back." What?! HELL NO I DIDN'T! "You can pick it up whenever you like."

So I scooted over there and picked it up without much trouble. Rather than having to replace it, I had to worry for a day, make two trips to the airport, and pay $4 for parking. That's not a bad reclamation fee.

I happily left the airport without even asking if I would be credited with frequent flier miles for the round trip to Grand Rapids.

College is So Two Days Ago

Seriously. I'm over this college thing. I'm done with it. Finished. Finit. QED.

Oh, wait. That last one doesn't fit. Still, I just couldn't help but inform you all that I'm done with college. I know many of you out there are saying, "Abs, you're an idiot. You graduated from college 10 years ago! If it's taking you this long to figure it out, you probably didn't deserve a degree in the first place." And those of you who didn't know that I graduated 10 years ago are getting with the whole "Abs is an idiot" thing. And I may be an idiot, but this pronouncement isn't really more evidence of it.

See, way back during my final Spring semester in high school, I was confronted with a Decision. Where would I go to college? It was a daunting call, as I didn't have any particular place that I had dreamed of going, I didn't have my heart set on any place, and I just wasn't sure what to do. The fact that more than one place was willing to allow me to sully their reputation was a Good Thing, but that I had to choose between them was not. I've mentioned before that I struggle with hard decisions, but this one came up before I had developed my oh-so-effective system of asking a lot of uninvolved people what they would do and lamenting my predicament. Instead, back then, my system was far simpler: I avoided the topic entirely. I didn't claim this was an effective system; it was just simpler. Really, it was easier, too. It involves a lot less effort than asking people what they think. And lamenting. Lamenting is a bitch! The Decision could wait, I thought. All of these colleges had deadlines for notification, and I didn't have to sweat it until then. If I happened to miss a deadline, well, I guess my system had effectively eliminated one alternative. So I was cruising along with my If You Don't Think About It, It Will Go Away method of decision-making and generally enjoying my senior year of high school.

This system wasn't all Goodness for everyone, though. Mama Abs didn't like it at all. This Decision gave her a tremendous amount of stress for some reason. It was very important to her that I pick a college. It didn't matter which one I picked. She didn't care if I picked the one in Ohio or the one in Illinois or the one in Virginia (recognizing the the ones in Indiana were right out). She just wanted me to Pick Something Already! I have no idea why the Decision stressed her out, but it did. She did a very good job of hiding that stress from me. For about 13.5 minutes. Then, she began to ask me where I was going to go to school. I would always truthfully answer, "I don't know," after appearing to ponder the question for about 10 seconds. I wasn't doing any pondering, though. So complete was my dedication to the IYDTAIIWGA method that my mind just filled with a mild buzzing whenever I even thought about thinking about the Decision. I figured each time I answered that way we were done with that topic, that my mom wouldn't ask me again for a while. And that was true, but only because I typically left the house or holed up in my room for a while immediately after she asked me. But she would ask the next time she laid eyes on me. This was her subtle way of suggesting to me that she thought it was High Time I Made Up My Mind. My IYDTAIIWGA method was too complete for her subtle prodding to sink in, though. I thought she couldn't possibly care, as it was my Decision, my education, my ... buuuuuuuzzzzzzzzzz.

Finally, the stress became too much for Mama Abs, and after asking me on a Thursday night where I was going to school and getting the standard response, she told me that I was not going on my scheduled weekend trip unless I made a Decision. Can you believe that shit?! I was outraged! I was shocked! I was in denial! I was leaving in just one day, and she couldn't just go cancelling my plans! I was going to bitch, I was going to yell, I was going ... to the University of Virginia.

And it was over. Decision Made. I don't know that I like the way it came to be, but it did. And I went there, and I had an Experience, and I got a Degree, and things were Generally Good.

So why am I just now done with college, which I am just remembering was the question you asked me in the first place? (OK, fine. You didn't ask me that question. But you would have if I had given you that piece of the dialogue. Work with me here.) Because the University of Virginia has been the Place that Keeps on Taking for the last ten years. And today, it is done taking. I have finally finished paying for it. My student loans are over, and that is, without question, a Good Thing.

For now, I'm just basking in the glow of being done with college. I should probably decide what to do with the money each month now that I'm not giving to the school or the government. And I suppose I could ... buuuuuuuzzzzzzzzzz.

Brain Power

No joking here, the brain is an incredible piece of equipment. Or organ. Whatever, it's a damned impressive thing, what with the way it recruits cells to do things that were broken via a stroke or traumatic brain injury or disease, or just the way it manages to keep us breathing and circulating blood all the time. Dilbert creator Scott Adams has his own example of just how impressive the brain can be. Check it out.

At the end, he asks people to comment with the happiest moments of their lives, which is very nice in a warm fuzzy sort of way. Interestingly, I have no idea what the happiest moment of my life is. That's not because my life is lacking in happiness. Far from it. It's just that I find I'm not good at picking out superlatives. It's hard to pick one "best" out of thousands of happy moments. Heck, I have a hard time calling to mind the moments that would even make the final cut. It's like my brain is giving me a busy signal when I try. But I'm thinking there are worse things one can spend his brain power on. So I'm going to think about that some this weekend. You have a good weekend, too.