Some things have occured.

Song of the blog: December_ Collective Soul

Yesteerday. Food was among the gracious blessing that came upon Jacob and I. We were very thrifty I think, and it gives me hope for a good time grocery shopping with him for the rest of my life. Full of it I gather. =)

I have nothing witty to say, nor anything smart, nor anything other than contentness and a little bit of anxiousness. I am still waiting for my boss to call me and tell me when I can start working. A phone call I have been expecting since Monday evening. (Blasted long background checks. I hope they don't look into that vacation I went on to Mantigue....) But today I watched Mansfield Park (BBC version), and it was a fairly good production of it. I never get tired of Jane Austen. How can anyone? She is genius. And I work at K-Mart. Ah, life.

But Jacob had some exciting fun taking random turns last night and going everywhere but where we wanted to go. We do get to talking he and I. :)

Snapshot Worth Blogging Of:

I was standing in the kitchen, doing something insignificant. Jacob comes in and begins to dance with me. There is no music and I giggle like an idiot. Good thing though, I am marrying a man that will never think me an idiot. Good choice Heaven. Good choice.

Moments like these I wish I could capture and show my daughters when they come to me one day, "Mom, how do I know he loves me?" "Well darling, he will dance with you in the kitchen when he darn well feels like it."

Quotes.

When you jump for joy, beware that no one moves the ground from beneath your feet.
    Stanislaw J. Lec (1909 - 1966), "Unkempt Thoughts"

ICONOCLAST, n. A breaker of idols, the worshipers whereof are imperfectly gratified by the performance, and most strenuously protest that he unbuildeth but doth not reedify, that he pulleth down but pileth not up. For the poor things would have other idols in place of those he thwacketh upon the mazzard and dispelleth. But the iconoclast saith: "Ye shall have none at all, for ye need them not; and if the rebuilder fooleth round hereabout, behold I will depress the head of him and sit thereon till he squawk it."

     Ambrose Bierce (1842 - 1914), The Devil's Dictionary

It usually takes more than three weeks to prepare a good impromptu speech.

     Mark Twain (1835 - 1910)
Walking isn't a lost art: one must, by some means, get to the garage.

     Evan Esar (1899 - 1995)