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the latest waddle:

good morning, wordpress - 10:36 a.m. , 2009-07-03

elaborate murder attempt - 2:56 p.m. , 2009-07-01

building a tractor in the basement - 10:42 a.m. , 2009-06-19

ask no questions tell just a few lies - 3:17 p.m. , 2009-06-09

my long lasting flavor really lasts long - 1:10 p.m. , 2009-06-04

2001-09-26 ... 11:07 a.m.

To follow up on yesterday's advertising theme: there is yet a third category of names/slogans that falls under the heading of "I See Where You're Coming From, But..." LT and I went out to dinner yesterday, and on the way I saw these two signs: Unique Insurance and Creative Property Management. I think that insurance and property management are two areas where it may be best to be neither "unique" nor "creative," but rather "dependable" and "familiar."

I think air travel must be getting back to normal, because from my window I see many more planes in the sky than previously. I must admit I get a little squinky feeling in my chest when I see them bank or turn, and I feel a queer need to visually follow the planes for a while, just to make sure they won't crash into a building. As if I could do anything about it if they did. Welcome to Crazy Mimi's House O' Magical Thinking, can I take your order?

Did I ever mention that I have a tattoo? Probably not, because why would you care? It's not like there are continuing developments with a tattoo. Mine is a black, geometric, cave painting of a fish. It's small, in the center of my back, and ever-so-slightly "tribal" (although that particular tattoo trend, in general, makes me gag). I got it around the time I was married, and although there's some private fishy significance between me and LT that was a component of its design, I also fell in love with it on my own terms, immediately, so it's not related only to him. Which is good, because although I fully intend to remain with LT forever (that's kind of the point of getting married), one never knows, and bodies should never be tattooed for other people. (That's kind of the point of tattoos.) Anyway, this is all very dull for you, except that you know how some people say that tattoos are sort of addictive? I've never found that to be true, and always been happy with my one decoration. But I am intensely drawn to snowflakes and winter, for a whole lot of weird emotional and intellectual reasons that I'm sure would wither and die if I exposed them to language, and there's always been a part of me that wanted a snowflake tattoo. This is a very long-winded way of saying I've finally found the perfect snowflake design, which only took about seven years, and now I have to decide a whole host of other factors, such as how big (small, definitely: but how small?) and where it goes, each of which will probably take another seven years (I've never been accused of being impulsive), but someday I will have a snowflake tattoo. The end.

Or almost the end. One funny tattoo-related story. I tend to forget about the tattoo's existence, since it's rarely on display. But at my friend H's wedding I wore a backless (well, not like Jennifer Lopez backless or anything, but definitely low-cut in the back) dress and had my hair up, and thus the tattoo was exposed. During the milling-around-drinking-cocktails part of the reception (my favorite part of any gathering), I was deep in conversation when a group of elderly men (total strangers, by the way) approached me. They made profuse apologies for interrrupting and said, "We've been discussing your tattoo and we think we've figured out what it means." I was a bit taken aback, but told them to go ahead, wow me with your tattoo insight. The ringleader of this group (the "spokesgeezer," if you will) said, "We think you're a Finnish national, since the fish is part of the flag of Finland, and the tattoo expresses your patriotism." Well, this is very weird since (a) Do I look Finnish? No. (b) Um, there's no fish anywhere on the Flag of Finland, and (c) That seems like a very convoluted explanation to force on someone who merely has a geometric fish tattooed on her back. Ever hear of Occam's Razor, grandpa? But I was polite, and gave the shorthand explanation as best I could, and they went away. It was truly odd. Maybe they were taking the piss in some weird way and I didn't realize it. Old People Humor.

(I tried and tried to be all virtual and cyber and think of a good place to stick this hyperlink, but I couldn’t. But here's a small page with some interesting info about one of the first guys to look at and photograph individual snowflakes.)

Most likely I've said more than enough for one day. Blah blah blah me me me.

---mimi smartypants really does care about you, too.


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