Thursday, March 31
Why Georgia? Why?
So I just discovered, sadly, that some 16-year-old chick has named her blog "WhyGeorgia". I feel cheated!, robbed!, (immature?). At least my blog was named after something other than the John Mayer song. So there. NAH!
Wednesday, March 30
The Birds & The Bees
Spring. Is there really any need for another season? In my rarely humble opinion, Winter is just an excuse for two things: 1) Christmas and 2) enjoying the first breath of Spring that much more. And here, Spring happens to coincide precisely with the equinox. Come March 21, the weather changes from 20 and icy to 65 and sunshine sunshine everywhere. And just as suddenly, I feel as ripe and blushing as a perfect dewy tulip.
Yes, that, and a little randy. In fact, catch me post March 2-0, and I think you'll find me in love with half the world.
Even the "slender" (that's my nice word for "a bit skinny") and somehow unexpectedly young, hip, male shopkeeper at the birdfeed store took on an appealing quality today. (Why a young, hip, male would want to work at a birdfeed store serving what seemed a primarily female clientele only just hit me.) And before "mmmm...." could finish crossing my mind, I was back in the car (birdfeed in tow) with one eye on an airbrushed John Mayer gracing the cover of my "Room for Squares" CD -- wow, was he ever appealing at the ripe ol' age of 22, even wearing what appeared to be a caramel colored lip gloss. Later, replays of English professional soccer matches were more about English professional soccer mates in all their sinewy splendor - lipgloss free I should add. What is it about soccer player legs anyway? Go Arsenal!
When I admitted both my state of mind and my first schoolgirl crushes on a pop star and a professional athlete (believe me when I say I'm not the type to fawn over the famed - innate egalitarianism I suppose) , not to mention a skinny shopkeeper (there's that egalitarianism again), my self-described not-jealous husband promptly sent me less than flattering Grammies pics of poor John. But I find myself unabashed. I remain as game as the bunnies.
And after all, birds do it. Bees do it. Even educated fleas do it. So let's already, shall we?
Yes, that, and a little randy. In fact, catch me post March 2-0, and I think you'll find me in love with half the world.
Even the "slender" (that's my nice word for "a bit skinny") and somehow unexpectedly young, hip, male shopkeeper at the birdfeed store took on an appealing quality today. (Why a young, hip, male would want to work at a birdfeed store serving what seemed a primarily female clientele only just hit me.) And before "mmmm...." could finish crossing my mind, I was back in the car (birdfeed in tow) with one eye on an airbrushed John Mayer gracing the cover of my "Room for Squares" CD -- wow, was he ever appealing at the ripe ol' age of 22, even wearing what appeared to be a caramel colored lip gloss. Later, replays of English professional soccer matches were more about English professional soccer mates in all their sinewy splendor - lipgloss free I should add. What is it about soccer player legs anyway? Go Arsenal!
When I admitted both my state of mind and my first schoolgirl crushes on a pop star and a professional athlete (believe me when I say I'm not the type to fawn over the famed - innate egalitarianism I suppose) , not to mention a skinny shopkeeper (there's that egalitarianism again), my self-described not-jealous husband promptly sent me less than flattering Grammies pics of poor John. But I find myself unabashed. I remain as game as the bunnies.
And after all, birds do it. Bees do it. Even educated fleas do it. So let's already, shall we?
I (Really Do) Heart Nerds
My theory is that it's the nerds who get all the hot girls.
Nothing gets me more infatuated with science than a man at a lab bench. Two weeks ago, I heard Brian Greene on the radio discussing his self-proclaimed noble pursuit of revealing the universe's secrets. Last week, my request for his (first and therefore not exactly news to you) book "The Elegant Universe" was granted - a 31st birthday gift from my very sweet, very sexy, very brilliant (read nerdy) molecular biologist husband. And ever since I got it, I can't put it down. Nor can I get the idea out of my mind of keeping Brian Greene in my basement, as a sort of sexy human pet with whom I could ruminate about string theory.
But in the end, it's not the oh so cute scientists that make me resonate like a superstring to physics (and properties of physics). Indeed, it finally occurred to me that my lifelong and hardly satisfied thirst for understanding of the relative world is actually a strong desire for a respite from the things in life I can't order or make sense of. It's my way of escaping small mindedness, violence, cruelty and hate. Of understanding the why of life and the inevitability of afterlife.
And so, my idea of heaven is not an (after)lifetime of sipping mai tais in a Bahama cabana with a bespectacled nerd, although I wouldn't complain about that exactly. But instead, having this and the next and the next universe's secrets laid bare. To know how it all works, and why it all works, to me, is to be one with god.
Nothing gets me more infatuated with science than a man at a lab bench. Two weeks ago, I heard Brian Greene on the radio discussing his self-proclaimed noble pursuit of revealing the universe's secrets. Last week, my request for his (first and therefore not exactly news to you) book "The Elegant Universe" was granted - a 31st birthday gift from my very sweet, very sexy, very brilliant (read nerdy) molecular biologist husband. And ever since I got it, I can't put it down. Nor can I get the idea out of my mind of keeping Brian Greene in my basement, as a sort of sexy human pet with whom I could ruminate about string theory.
But in the end, it's not the oh so cute scientists that make me resonate like a superstring to physics (and properties of physics). Indeed, it finally occurred to me that my lifelong and hardly satisfied thirst for understanding of the relative world is actually a strong desire for a respite from the things in life I can't order or make sense of. It's my way of escaping small mindedness, violence, cruelty and hate. Of understanding the why of life and the inevitability of afterlife.
And so, my idea of heaven is not an (after)lifetime of sipping mai tais in a Bahama cabana with a bespectacled nerd, although I wouldn't complain about that exactly. But instead, having this and the next and the next universe's secrets laid bare. To know how it all works, and why it all works, to me, is to be one with god.
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