A Week for the Books

Today starts a very hectic, tumultuous time of my life. Daddy is arriving tonight. As we speak, he is somewhere over the Atlantic. Here, to be exact:



On Thursday, I am finally graduating. Ten years after beginning my higher education. I'm trying to stay calm, and focus on the fact that it's less than 48 hours away. The truth is, I have this irrational fear that I will never be graduating. It's ridiculous, I know. I'm just fearful that because it's taken me so long, maybe it's never meant to happen. So focus, Lisa: 48 hours.

Saturday is party time, celebratory drinks galore. This past weekend, we hung out in New Hope at the Triumph with some of Barbara's school friends: Nora, Christine, Amy, Kim and Mike. It was a complete riot and I fell so in love with raspberry wheat beer that I brought home 3 flagons of it. So that is definitely on the cards this week, for sure! Oddly enough, I'm looking forward to the party. I'm not much of a partier, but this should be relatively small with the best people money can't buy.

Then, of course, comes Monday. Ah, Monday. The day I officially start work. I'm excited and terrified all at once. I need to impress the BossMan enough to get him to sponsor me, and I'm afraid I can't do it. Because, y'know, what's life without a little pressure, right? I'm sure it'll all be fine, but if you don't hear from us in a while, that's because Barbara's busy slapping the nonsense out of my head. Salut!

Feeling Soppy

"Fidelity": Don't Divorce... from Courage Campaign on Vimeo.

Honestly, I don't know what good any of this is going to do. It's like watching a tennis match:

"Yay we have rights!" *serve*
"Boo, I'm offended" *volley*
"Huzzah, we have rights again!" *lob*
"I'm still offended..." *backhand*
"Don't Divorce Us..." *half-volley*

I'm hoping, hoping, and hoping some more that this new administration does what is needed for LGBT rights. I, for one, am not about to stop fighting any time soon. My sister will be a legal permanent resident of this country before I am because of all these games. I don't begrudge her in the slightest. She deserves to be happy. So do I. I just want what her fiancé wants: to marry my wife.

But Which KIND of Robin?

American or English?



Seriously, folks, I mentioned before that Robin gave us a boatload of material. Here's another two of her gems.

(While talking to a particular friend of ours, who happens to be decidedly Christian, Robin decides that dating advice is in order...)

Robin: At the end of the date, if all else fails, grab his junk.

M: Wuh?

(Later, as people are getting up to leave)

Robin: Enjoy your date, and don't do anything I wouldn't do!

M: Oh, I probably won't...

Sex On The Brain

Sunday morning, my beloved Father-in-Law stops in for coffee on his way back from church. He does this most Sundays, occasionally accompanied by his lady wife. He wanders about, shoots the shit, and finds something to pick on in our house.

"The dust bunnies under your TV are multiplying."

"Do you plan on ever using your dining room table for eating again?"

"How many SHOES do you need?!"

And of course, this Sunday morning's classic was:

"What on earth is that hanging on your bed? A camera? What are you guys DOING in here?!"

(It should be noted for the record that the camera he thought he espied was in fact the booklight my father bought me for Christmas, so that I may read into the night without disturbing my sweetie. Only my Father-in-Law could make that about sex)