The Blue Whale is not Extinct!

I just found out that the largest mammal on the planet is not extinct. I don't know who fed me the lie about the whale, but fie on them. I have believed it my whole life. How could I have lived in darkness so long with something so large swimming on the same planet as me? How could one not notice around two million metric tons of Blue Whales in the world?

It's like being told your whole life that you don't have something as obvious as armpits, and then one morning realizing you do. A whole world of possibilities opens up for you. Albiet a world filled with greasy, smelly, hairy mess, yes, but also the beauty of armpit farts and manly arms-akimbo stances.

Its like scales have fallen from my eyes, and nothing appears the same anymore. Waves of truth lap over my consciousness again and again. I'm seeing everything through the lens of Blue Whale Existences. Everywhere I look, Everyone I see is obscured by the one blue thought: They're here hiding someplace.

GRE studying

I am currently studying to take the GRE to bulster my application to Graduate school and doing worse every practice test I take. I have become conviced that I know no math, hardly know English, and seemingly can't understand what I read. It's a good thing that practice tests can't assess my essays, or I'm sure I would be found a dunce there as well. Oh, well such is life. I feel reletively ok with my duncehood, though I've decide that I need to memorize the dictionary, and I have two week to do it. I should have started ten years ago; perhaps I would have at least finished the A's by now.

New beginning

We cannon-balled into creating this blog with much pomp, fanfare, and rioting, a veritable donnybrook of excitement; yet after a few pithy entries, left it to stale. My only excuse besides the vie between craziness and laziness, not to mention my natural propensity toward lackadaisical sybaritism, is that our computer began to suffer a degenerative disease and subsequent mental breakdown which landed it in the emergency room, quailing at the cusp of its mortal(i.e. useful) existence. "There's a cure," says the geek squad, and they've taken it to a fresh-aired resort & spa, so it can convalesce in peace.

We've been house shopping. Yes, house shopping. I love looking at houses. It's an exploration in the wild every time. We made a bid on one great house that looked like an old person exploded inside after buttering an inch of tobacco stains unto the walls. It was quite spectacular. We didn't get it though.

We did just win the bid on another house. So now we have to figure out all that we have to do. We hope to keep a record of any renovations we do if we get it. We'll tell you more about it later.

We are going to attempt again to do a better job of updating this blog. Enjoy.

Careening away . . .

A few weeks ago, Rebekah and I ventured into a new hobby, a randomly selected book at the library being the criminal catalyst. Some may refer to our new hobby as “running” others “jogging,” but if I had my choice, it would be christened “careening.” If one observed me jogging (if that is what one calls it) that person might find it very much like the jogging of others; however, eyes once trained, would definitely pick out the subtleties that differ other activities from the act of careening.
The book we apprehended from the library, though incredibly helpful and ultimately culpable for our present predicament, said nothing of careening. You will have to infer all the juicy delights of careening on your own.
The book The Beginning Runner's Handbook compels a person to leisurely, yet consistently, build ones training, and since I tend to over-run (and subsequently die) every time I get the sudden hanker, it is a great strategy for me with an actual goal in mind: thirteen weeks to running 10 kilometers without a problem. Rebekah also boarded the jogging wagon, and together we shall rule this highway called fitness . . . or health, or wellness, or some other daft name.
Two blocks away from us, there lies a store called The Running Room, and believe it or not, they know quite a bit about running. We confirmed there, us already suspecting, that Rebekah's feet pronate (collapse inward) slightly. But we also discovered, us not suspecting, that my right foot pronates slightly also. “Strange,” I mutter to myself. “I know,” was the response. “Who woulda suspected?”
New shoes from The Running Room have entered our lives and though a bit pricey they are the most comfortable, airy shoes to ever tear up a Twin City sidewalk with a Kyle Jaeger inside. . . . Well, could be true. The shoes complement our new fitness regime which has been low stress and entirely doable. That's all for my sales pitch. We'll tell you more if our calves explode or knee caps pop off or lungs capsize.

Not a Toy... Not quite anyway.

Here is some pictures of the newest, shiniest member of our family: a Honda Nighthawk CB650 SC. It is almost the exact same bike I used to have but with a few differences. Rebekah was pleased with the color which is very important. It had been a project bike for a high school kid and his dad. They had cleaned out the carburetors, replaced several bits, and walla, bike for him. We felt a little guilty buying it from him though because while we were there about a half dozen of his high school buddies showed up on motorcycles, and since we were buying his bike he was going to have to follow them in a car--a shame really.

Today is Rebekah's birthday to, so you should call and bug her as much as possible. Really I should have had a picture of her and her new helmet on the bike--A hot picture indeed.

It's Saturday

Saturday is that day that we justify putting off all those things that we know we should be doing because it's the weekend. Others days (we still put it off, don't get me wrong) there is a twinge of occasional--yet, thank goodness--quickly stifled guilt.

Above, there is a few pictures, obviously from the Mall of America, of two loves of mine: candy (though I hardly ever eat any) . . . and logging trucks (though I never get to drive any). Rebekah is in there too. I guess she is also high up there on the love list.

Rebekah and I love going shopping together which, conveniently enough, one can do at the Mall of America. We nearly never buy anything though, just try on clothes, pose, and take pictures; talk about and secretly point at nearly every person that walks past; and generally guffaw our guts out. It doesn't take much to entertain us; one would be surprised.

We have been house shopping in the St. Paul area. Interesting, eh? I've lately learned more about mortgages than I thought there was to know. We probably won't buy til next year, but it is exciting to look. I hope to do very interesting remodelling projects and keep everyone updated about them via the blog. Yesterday I picked up a random book by a Jeff Yaeger, of all the names, and he talked about remodelling their house out of unique recyclable materials. Sounded very cool. He also claimed to be The Ultimate Cheapskate which is the title of his book. It was a little funny, but I can't recommend it for I only read bits and pieces. I am all about financial wisdom, and Rebekah and I practice incredible frugality. But there where thoughts in his book that made me feel that there was an element of stifling hospitality which I abhor. (Not that we are as hospitable as we ought to be.) Someone should write a book "Hospitality on a Shoestring." Who knows maybe it is not like that. I did hardly read any of it.

In other news, tonight or tomorrow we are going to see "The Tempest" in the park, and next week we are going to see "Singing in the Rain" at the Ordway with Uncle Al and family. We are looking forward to seeing them.