I warn you, i've read this whole post, and it doesn't make any sense.
But you might as well read it, anyway.
I was thinking today about contracrostipunctus. Layers of meaning. Like onions. And ogres. And the interconnectedness of all things. And emus. And synchronicity. And randomness.
I hate beer, but I like BEER WIN, so Dr. Krog and I stopped to take a picture.
I just asked him if he wanted anything from downstairs as I headed down for a weigh-in and blog-in, and he requested a margarita.
Now I wish I had a little drink umbrella. Or maybe i'll serve it up in a sippy cup. The one with cars.
That'll show 'im.
Our teenage niece just mentally gobsmacked him with the t-word via Facebook chat, and it occurred to us both that we are no longer 18, because we were slightly mortified. More amused, though.
She also likes the word "defenestration". It's one of my favorites. She is full of WIN.
So is this guy, who appears to be life's manifestation of my own inner goof.
I miss my long-lost copy of GodelEscherBach. The margins were full of scribbles, the pages were dogeared, and you could literally see the excitement in my pencil when I discovered that Hofstadter's Contracrostipunctus Acrostically Backwards Spells J.S. Bach.
Still gives me shivers.
I've never gotten lost in my head like I did in that book, layers and layers of meaning unfolding. I sometimes wonder if I miss that sort of mental challenge in my day-to-day life, if part of me is sleeping.
But I like sleep. And I like knowing that sometimes it's best if fields lie fallow, dormant, expectant. I like to think that there is always something marvelous waiting. Dr. Krog and I may seem like whiny, misanthropic jerks, but I assure you that we are eternal optimists. And the fact that our life together gets better every year only confirms our philosophy.
Why am I rambling about layers and fields and signs and goofs and margaritas served in plastic sippy cups?
Because I can.
And because I need to remember.
And because I had a few sips of Dr. Krog's margarita, and i'm a cheap drunk.
Goodnight, folks. I've got a date with a freshly made bed, two cute guys and Season 1 of Scrubs.
See? I told you it didn't make any sense.