A long overdue rant about Wal*Mart greeters.

Most pointless. Job. Ever.

Seriously kids. For one thing, I find it somewhat demeaning. When I'm 63 years old, I don't want to be addressing 23 year old nim-wits as 'sir'. As a 23 year old, I don't wish to be called 'sir' by 63 year olds. It has also become apparent that they are required to stand to perform their duties. As I walk in, I always see the most feeble old man sitting in a chair. He struggles to stand as I approach. "Good afternoon, sir." Then, once I'm past, I see him ease himself back into the chair just in time to shift gears and stand back up for the next batch of customers. C'mon, Wal*Mart. Let the poor guy just sit down. I always feel kinda bad when I walk in and make some geriatric grind away whatever is left of his knees. Then there's the issue of me not liking people. Despite my sympathy for your joints, I simply do not wish to speak to you, old man. This goes double for the greeters who ask me how I'm doing. Stop it. I'm sorry, but I know I'm not the only one.

Now, I realize that this provides jobs for several many people. But something tells me there's something else they could be doing for a buck. Produce section floors are always sticky. Give 'em a mop. Bread, frozen juice concentrate, and bananas always seem to be in need of restocking. But please, PLEASE don't make me trouble a poor guy with a steel rod in his femur and then be annoyed by the same man because he interrupted the tranquility of my day.


Finally, for those of you wondering why I shop at such a loathsome place of monetary exchange, I have to for supplies for work. I do so as little as possible of my own free will.

That is all.

All grow'd up...

So...I'm engaged now. I'm fairly excited by this. And by 'fairly excited', I mean, 'the kind of excited where you want to run around screaming at hobos, hugging old ladies, pushing over children on tricycles, punching baby lambs in the face, and generally being a nuisance to society...but in the very best way possible'. Last night on the way home from her parents' house, I listened to 'The Luckiest' by Ben Folds about 6 or 7 times. It's one I've never really listened to much before. I've known the chorus for some time, but that's not saying much. Last night, it finally hit me. Hard. I like that it is really straightforward and could be told as if it were a letter or something. Here, let me show you.

---

I don't get many things right the first time. In fact, I am told that a lot. Now I know all the wrong turns and stumbles and falls brought me here.

And where was I before the day that I first saw your lovely face? Now I see it every day.

And I know that I am the luckiest.

What if I'd been born fifty years before you in a house on the street where you lived? Maybe I'd be outside as you passed on your bike. Would I know?

And in a wide sea of eyes, I see one pair that I recognize.

And I know that I am the luckiest.

I love you more than I have ever found a way to say to you.

Next door, there's an old man who lived to his nineties and, one day, passed away in his sleep. And his wife; she stayed for a couple of days and passed away.

I'm sorry, I know that's a strange way to tell you that I know we belong.

That I know that I am the luckiest.

---

And I do know this. She tolerates me to an astounding degree. It's perplexing really. I constantly feel like I tricked her somehow. As if she's going to wake up some morning and realize 'wait....WHAT?!?' I hope against hope that day never comes.

Ok, enough of the gushy crap. I've been asked 'OH! How'd you do it?!?' enough times that I'm just going to put it here.

So, Saturday after my 'Fun Run' with the army (there's no such thing, by the way...as a fun run...not the army...that organization totally exists...) I headed down to Farmington to her parents' house, ring in hand...er, pocket I suppose. After hello's and such, we decided to go get some dinner and see a movie. Afterwards, I asked her if there were any nice walking trails we could go on since my legs were a little stiff from the run (a wonderful ploy, if I do say so myself). She showed me how to get to this place she used to go when she was a teenager and we walked around for a bit. After a little while, we were just standing there hugging and I thought, "hey, this seems like a good time to ask." So I ninjesquely slipped it out of my pocket and held it behind her back for another couple minutes while I mustered up the cahones to just do it. The whole time, we were just kind of talking and then a periodic "I love you" came from her. I responded in kind and she giggled, as she does. I then whispered to her "Now you're supposed to tell me to prove it." "Um, ok...prove it?". And I got on my knee and asked.

Yeah, it's not the paragliding scheme I had cooked up a few weeks ago, but I like the way it worked out nonetheless. :)

That is all.

Totally out of order...

So...generally, relationships go about like this (give or take): Meet, hang out/date, date seriously/exclusively, propose, plan wedding, get married. Thus far, my relationship with Catherine has been: Meet, hang out, hang out seriously, discuss marriage, plan wedding. Not once have we gone out on a "date". I still don't have the ring and have therefore not asked her yet (because I refuse to do so until I do), but today a purchase on her part was made. I'll give you a hint: It starts with a "d" and rhymes with "bress". I don't know if everyone can figure that one out...I'm a tricksy sort of fella that way. We've both talked about it, and we like not doing things the "traditional" sort of way. This way works. We both are fans of it.

Also, congratulations to thePatrick on his awesome baby girl!

That is all.