Today is Good Friday, for those of you who observe the traditionally christian holidays. For those of you who do not, your Friday can still be Good. I didn't really think about this today (although I did last night), I just wanted to tell you all about my Friday and how it has started off so swell.
As a side note, I think that Easter (and the season of Lent leading up to it, and the observance of Good Friday, etc.) would have more significance for me if only I would take the time to recognize their significance to my faith. And although it seems this revelation (which should not be a revelation, but I am a master in epiphanies of obvious facts) has come too late this year, I plan to apply this to other holidays and years to come. It seems a waste to me that I spend more time fantasizing about the menu I'll serve on a given holiday, rather than the significance behind said holiday. FTR.
In other news...
Handsome woke me up this morning with a phone call. When I groggily asked why he was calling at such a loathsome hour (7:08 AM), he cheerily responded that he just wanted to talk to someone really attractive this morning. And he thought about calling Carmen Electra or perhaps Shania Twain, but he said they weren't hot enough. And when he saw my picture in his phone, he thought, "Now this is the girl I want to talk to!" I suspect that perhaps the fact that Carmen's number is not in his phone may have come into play somewhat, but I'm going to take it at face value. Made my morning a lot easier to start.
*** Handsome Fact #17: The names Shania Twain and Celine Dion are interchangeable to Handsome, and context clues are often required for me to discern his real meaning.
Also, I saw a Cardinal get hit by a truck this morning. I never knew that one little incident could elicit such a range of responses in people. Presidential elections, yes; Foreign Policy, sure; New types of Ketchup packets, absolutely. But a single cardinal's demise? Its clearly newsworthy (and I always report things that are newsworthy).
Scene: Cardinal swoops through the air, attempts to cross the highway, and gets mauled by a truck.
Me: Sadness. I am upset that I had to see that happen. I feel bad that the bird, which I find pretty, has been harmed. I want someone to go put it out of its misery, since its still flopping around.
My brother B: Pragmatically indifferent. "Look at it this way," he says, "Now that cardinal, who was clearly slow and unintelligent, cannot reproduce, and thus the lineage of the cardinals will be faster and wiser for not having that bird contributing to the gene pool. Less Cardinals will die because of what happened today."
My Mom: Eleation. "YES!" she shouts in my ear, and I imagine her fist-pumping. She hates birds.
Although some of you, I'm sure, will align yourselves with one or more of these responses, I'm equally certain that there will be even more responses of varying degrees. For example, my friend Bec will be agreeing with my Mom, but, since the reports of her bird-hating have been greatly exaggerated, she will also feel a twinge of sadness, and, I'm guessing, a sprinkling of indifference.
So tell me, on this glorious Friday of Fridays, how do you feel about the pwetty byrd?
|I feel like the artistic rendering allows us to remain emotionally distant.|
This should help those who feel too much not become a sobbing wreck.
Witness of Record,