Some people think this is a triumphant yell, but I think he's yawning. I mean, wouldn't you be tired?"
Oh, wait – that’s not the most important thing. That would be: I’m an uncle. My niece, Abigail Lynn, was born happy and healthy on August 4, 2008. Pardon me for not telling it on the mountain, or more practically, telling it on the blog – I meant to, but it still doesn’t seem real. The rest of the family made the journey up to D.C. to meet the newest carrier of the bloodline, but since I’m just the lowest of the low here at work, and the important people needed vacations, and the phones don’t answer themselves… I was obligated to stay behind. So… I haven’t actually met my niece yet, which is tragic and frustrating, but also just the way it is. I will show my face at the baptism, even though holy water has been known to cause me to break out (IT BURNS!). In the meantime, I’ve seen lots of pictures, and she is officially the cutest thing ever, just as the oracle foretold.
Yesterday, the parentals and I escorted Li’l Sis to the Charlotte airport, where she began her epic journey of self-discovery and artistic maturation (also known as: foreign study) to London. There, she will study art, complete an internship at a museum, eat lots of Indian food, and meet lots of new friends with names like Nigel, Simon, Pippa, and Hermione. I watched her as she took off her shoes and unloaded her carry-on bag to go through security, and I thought this will be the last time I see her as she is. When she returns, she will be a different person: smarter, wiser, more experienced, and probably overly fond of crumpets and cricket. I really only have two dreams for her, which I communicated to her shortly before she left us for her terminal. First, I told her that I hoped living in the U.K. would finally convince her that Harry Potter is the greatest thing since LowFat Cheez-its. If living around me hasn’t impressed this upon her, maybe a country full of J.K. Rowling worshiping Britons will do the trick. Secondly, since I can’t be there myself, I must rely on her to complete my life’s mission of going up to the Queen of England and saying, “HeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEeeeeeey, Girl.” I’m counting on you, Li’l Sis. Don’t let me down.
And tell your majesty I say, "How she durrrrin'?"
Now, moving on to the Debbie Downer segment of our program…
You’ve just heard me prattle on about how my brother just had a beautiful baby girl and how my sister is some sort of jet-setter… well, they make me sick, and this coat of black wool is getting so frikkin’ uncomfortable (not to mention smelly).
The only positive thing I can say about “work” is that I am still employed. Are you ready for the negatives?
EDIT!! (deleted to protect someone... I'm not sure who. Probably me... but you never know who's reading...)
That’s about it, I guess. The rest of my time is engaged in escapist entertainment. Specifically, I’ve been going through a rather engrossing movie musical phase. I’ve thrown my Netflix into a real tizzy. I decided I wanted to see all of the Rogers and Hammerstein musicals (I was shocked to realize I’d really only ever seen one of them all the way through – see if you can guess which one. I’ll give you a hint: there’s yodeling). And of course, T.V. is a constant companion. Things are about to heat up hardcore, what with all the returning shows in a couple of weeks. I think I may need to break down and get that DVR… finally.