Knock on Formica...

but things are going extremely well. I'm listening to some sweet new music...



well. new to me anyway. but just about perfect in a lot of ways.

(sample fantastic lyric: "our grandma bought us a new vcr. we watched it all night. we grew up inside of it.")

i kind of hope you're not reading, Joe Schanderson, because i'm in deep trouble if you found out that I bought this album before I even bought Andy Stochansky. (and I should insert here that Joe has the kind of perfect taste that makes me go -- if he tells me I should, I buy them.) But I'd been planning on it for a while if its okay. And the convergence of various people with great taste eventually led me to give in...

and boy am i glad.

and speaking of how great things are:

the insurance adjustor came to our house this afternoon and said, Yes. The hail damage is legit. (which we, frankly, didn't expect. As much as I'd feel dumb if *Joe* reads this entry, imagine how I'd feel if our insurance adjustor just happens to read that we didn't expect a payout. but hey, i'm just representing our nonprofessional perspective. Ultimately, mr. Insurance Adjustor, I trust you.) so we get a new roof. Seriously. I've never loved a hailstorm more.

And Jaelyn learned the days of the week. And Addison and I built the greatest lego house today. And Lynn (not officially, but unofficially) got her new job. And my dad gave me TONS of money for travelling expenses. That's right, David, Daniel & Angela, TONS. And he whispered: Let this money be a token of my favoritism. I know you must be feeling a bit skeptical about this claim, but let me legitimize it further by pointing out that at the moment that he whispered this blessing, my attention was distracted by a chipmunk apparently crawling into the a bent corner of the red aluminum siding outside of the Bob Evans Restaurant.

So everythings rosy. Just like on the alumni surveys that are pouring into our department just-pre-reunion.

And I'd say knock on Wood. But that would mean that I really thought things were through-and-through good. But I don't. ANd they're not. Behind all these particular events and feelings is a stew of disturbing darkness...wood shavings pressed together with glue and with a plasticky surface atop it...

But I'm still knocking on the formica anyway...