As You are Now

I will take up all your tears
Salty tissues through the years
Spread them in the sun to dry
Diamonds from each time you cry

I will treasure all your teeth
Your laughter and the pearls beneath
Keep them in a cardboard box
Through the tickings and the tocks

I will gather all your hair
Floating in the sultry air
We will make a braid of gold
For you to keep when you are old

Now I kiss your milky skin
Sheet of silk and soul within
Put this kiss upon your brow
Treasure you as you are now

For Obvious and Hidden Reasons....

The original version by Ben Harper is really nice acoustical jam...but this one is softer and still cool too. Our little family. The three of us.

Evidence

 
....this is what it is like to be married to a nerd. You walk upstairs and find a lair of cords.

Also, this only scratches the mere cord-surface of the multitude of cordage we possess. There are boxes (as you can see in the picture) and vast pits of cords you can find in this household. Which is why I find it hilarious every time we have to purchase a new cord to hook something up - If only the nerd could macguyver this whole cord system up (duct tape?) and connect everything we ever needed to connect again.

hmmmmm.....then again it IS really nice to be able to watch computer stuff on our big TV. Way to go you awesome, cord purchasing, hooker-upper, nerdy husband. Yeah.

Your quest is over....

Officially the worst food for you evar.

Dear Kurt....

I hope you are on a journey to peace of mind. I can only think that it truly wasn't you that went for a new pair of shoes and never returned. I cannot imagine your unwinding and grasping for pieces of paper to write out some ramblings and feeling so overwhelmed with life. You, Kurt, had just written to me about playing Tetris party soon. You, Kurt, had laughed about the holes in your shoes. You, Kurt, had just shared a dinner party. I cannot believe that you, Kurt, made that leap that night.

We'll never have the answers - although I'm not sure if you had written in a precise clarity that it would have made this all any easier. Just a different journey I would think.

I ask the Lord today to make me an instrument of His peace to be there for your beloved wife. I channel fervent prayers for everyone tomorrow.

We deeply mourn for you, my friend...

ffft ffft

Lostie freak

Not sure if anyone else watches Lost, but this recappy list was unbelievably HILARIOUS:

Let's begin with a quick refresher on "How to Get Your Ass Back to the Island":

* Step 1: Have Mrs. Hawking show you her super-retro subterranean Dharma station (I'm pretty sure the Lamp Post is our first confirmed off-island Dharma hub). Inside, her phalanx of 128k mainframes are crunching up-to-the-second latitude and longitude figures so the island's next location can be determined (it can also track Margaritaville). It's nearly impossible to find the island's current location because that jumpy little land mass is in constant motion, but thanks to electromagnetic pockets, fuzzy math and a giant pendulum, Mrs. Hawking and her trusty TRS-80s can pinpoint the island's next location.

* Step 2: Get the band back together. The island is anal about return visits, so it's important you re-create the details from your maiden trip. This means rounding up the old crew -- Jack, Kate, Sun, Hurley, Sayid, Dead Locke; with Ben, Frank Lapidus and a few newbies thrown in for extra flavor -- and booking a flight with a specific trajectory (Ajira Airways flight 316, Los Angeles to Guam, should do the trick).

Important Travel Advisory: Sloppiness and oversights -- like neglecting to bring the kid who was born on the island -- can lead to "unpredictable" results.

* Step 3: Proxify the dead guy. Since your dead daddy was socked away in Oceanic 815's cargo hold during Trip No. 1, you're going to need to adorn your new dead guy (Locke) with something once owned by the old dead guy (Dr. Christian Shephard). I'm not entirely sure why dead guys need to share clothes, but that's the rule and we're sticking to it.

* Step 4: Go first class. Coach passengers tend to get sucked from cracked fuselages or become inevitable casualties during mercenary attacks and flaming-arrow battles. Be safe. Live large.

* Step 5: If someone gives you a suicide note, read the friggin' thing.

* Step 6: Enjoy the trip and holla at your boy Jacob when you arrive.