This year's QuikCheck Balloon Festival in NJ had a Darth Vader balloon which is hysterical. I mean, really, you have to see it, and the previous link (a Darth Vader balloon ) is by the creator, so it has background info. I did not attend the 6:30am (!) ascension this year, but my coworker Julia and her twin sister did. Their photos of Darth made me decide you guys absolutely HAD to see it. ;-P
Now the squirrel billboard above (which was at the Greenwich Metro-North station) has nothing to do with it, but I thought it was also funny, especially considering my packrat tendencies.
And in other news relating to the dark side, every now and then I am tempted to cut and run from my engineer before I get serious about him. I mean, right now I like him "really a lot," (to use Ms. M's amusing expression) but it wouldn't cause the death of many, many Kleenex if we parted. (I still remember how much fun THAT sobfest was, when I broke up with the ex.)
This temptation was particularly strong today because he had to cancel on our date tonight at the last minute due to family obligations unrelated to medical emergencies, and the "thanks for being so understanding" spiel, while completely heartfelt on his part, touched off many bad memories of being taken for granted by the ex. Been there, done that, don't want another t-shirt.
So I put him on notice: he is perilously close to using up all of his get out of jail free cards. I knew that I was furious for many reasons, most of them not having to do with him: the ex, my fear, PMS hell, and only last was genuine exasperation.
However, it also made me realize that however much I like him, and whatever his many fine qualities, I will not put up with the same sh*t I did before. Nothing, but nothing is worth being that miserable (all while convinced that I was happy, of course).
It also helps that although I am quite bemused whenever he says he thinks I'm hot, I don't disbelieve him, and in fact, think others might actually agree. In other words, I am finally confident about how I look. It only took 40 years, give or take 45 lbs.
And when he says that he thinks I'm special, he must mean at least some part of that (40 years of self-doubt can't be overturned quite that quickly) since I have been consistently showing him my various anxieties & baggage, holding him off unpredictably, not quite letting him in, and generally behaving like the nutjob I am and he still thinks I'm special. WTF?! No wonder I'm periodically terrified -- this relationship could actually Mean Something. Holy sh*t.
Now the squirrel billboard above (which was at the Greenwich Metro-North station) has nothing to do with it, but I thought it was also funny, especially considering my packrat tendencies.
And in other news relating to the dark side, every now and then I am tempted to cut and run from my engineer before I get serious about him. I mean, right now I like him "really a lot," (to use Ms. M's amusing expression) but it wouldn't cause the death of many, many Kleenex if we parted. (I still remember how much fun THAT sobfest was, when I broke up with the ex.)
This temptation was particularly strong today because he had to cancel on our date tonight at the last minute due to family obligations unrelated to medical emergencies, and the "thanks for being so understanding" spiel, while completely heartfelt on his part, touched off many bad memories of being taken for granted by the ex. Been there, done that, don't want another t-shirt.
So I put him on notice: he is perilously close to using up all of his get out of jail free cards. I knew that I was furious for many reasons, most of them not having to do with him: the ex, my fear, PMS hell, and only last was genuine exasperation.
However, it also made me realize that however much I like him, and whatever his many fine qualities, I will not put up with the same sh*t I did before. Nothing, but nothing is worth being that miserable (all while convinced that I was happy, of course).
It also helps that although I am quite bemused whenever he says he thinks I'm hot, I don't disbelieve him, and in fact, think others might actually agree. In other words, I am finally confident about how I look. It only took 40 years, give or take 45 lbs.
And when he says that he thinks I'm special, he must mean at least some part of that (40 years of self-doubt can't be overturned quite that quickly) since I have been consistently showing him my various anxieties & baggage, holding him off unpredictably, not quite letting him in, and generally behaving like the nutjob I am and he still thinks I'm special. WTF?! No wonder I'm periodically terrified -- this relationship could actually Mean Something. Holy sh*t.
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