Okay, so it is a cheesy play on the fact that today is February 29th, but I've got to give it credit, as this post really is about something rare.
As I was driving home from work today, I was listening to some public programming when the host made a quick announcement, "This is a test of the emergency broadcast system. This is only a test."
What came over the airways next was not the trying brone (that's a buzzing drone) that we've become familiar with, but instead, a long, silent pause. The pause was long enough for me to shift in my seat, then, adjust my seat belt, next, look down at the glowing clock, and finally, start to feel a bit uncomfortable.
"Apparently, it is not working," the surprised and concerned host said with an underlying sense of humor as he broke the silence. He continued by semi-confusedly reporting the news. You could tell he'd never been faced with the situation before.
And I'm glad that he'd never been faced with the situation before, but now I understand why they do test these things out every once and a while. Ya know, maybe there was a glitch in their computer program, and it didn't work because it was February 29th. Maybe something like this does only happen every 4 years!
But Ash, you've got it wrong, it's the 6 degrees of Kevin Bacon or 6 degrees of separation, not 5. Well, of course, but I've got a theory that with blogging you can link to anyone, with the exception that they must have a blog, in at least 5 links. So, if we assumed that everyone had a blog, I would say that you could link to anyone in a maximum of 5 links. I've decreased the number because people can link to a blog without the other knowing it, that is you may not know the person or have never seen the person, but if you like his/her blog you may decide to link to it. Okay, my theory really isn't all that scientific and I haven't really run any tests to prove it. My point is that when you get going in this world of blog, you can link from you to your friend to her brother to the kid you sat by in math class and then to Mr. Bacon. It's crazy how it seems to be that way at least.
We live in a small apartment and it ain't bad, not bad at all. In fact, it's nice for me because I don't like to be alone, and with a small apartment, you always feel like you're part of the action, whether you're playing a game or doing the laundry. With that disclaimer, I give you, "you know you live in a small apartment when...":
- Your bathroom is smaller than the largest stall at work.
- Your head touches the air vent (which serves as the ceiling in the kitchen) if you stand on your tippy toes.
- You are never outside of conversational tone earshot.
- You open your fouton and the extra floor space is cut in half.
- Your box spring will fit inside the doorway but can't clear the turns in the hallway.
Here's a book about ultimate friendship. A book that plays off of the belief that when you make a real friend, a friend you respect, a friend you love, you can make a connection with that friend forever. H.L. Mencken, an American critic commented that, "No romantic novel ever written in America . . . is one half so beautiful as My Ántonia.” I enjoyed this book because it is different in the way it is written and I liked the style. I haven't read a lot of modern books lately but I have read some, and it just seems that this kind of novel is not written anymore. The style of writing is unassuming and not straightforward, which requires the reader to insinuate some things. I like that. Does it discuss the open prairie, the expansive Midwest, the bitter but peaceful winters, and the vast, clear sky? Yes. And I understand that hearing this in combination with the word "romantic" may cause you to dismiss this book altogether . . . or draw you to it. Here's my suggestion: let all preconceptions fade away and give it a chance. It's worth the read.