Now, Heather is friends with Ken, via some circuitous acquaintanceship deal (curiously, not involving blogs); SJ is currently terrorizing the i-school at UW, (currently my front-runner grad school option) and is the sort of fearless being that posts photos of her and her teenage sister engaged in the 24-hour blogathon, or possibly tells
many stories involving drunkenness and wild behavior of punk rock moments who also has a child and keeps chickens in the back forty while prompting her sax-playing hubby to get gigs.
Daymented’s web presence hints at her own terrible energy. A Seattle Times article I shan’t link here and attendant fallout confirms it.
Heather has recently shared photos of the fireplace she works in at the enormous limestone mansion overlooking the water (possibly pulled as it was pretty clear where the pics were taken, I thought), her soccer team, and can be relied upon for blow-by-blows of her own high academic standards and also explained the recently-discussed preponderance of underwear moments in Lost in Translation.
Well, honestly, I have to say, this is the sort of thing that leads to unknown, possibly dangerous, highly-energetic social events.
Furthermore, while I am a retiring sort of local blogger, who politely realizes that tonight is the night I must polish the silverware on being encouraged in a neighborly fashion to drop by at the Meetup or what not, I feel that should point out to SJ and Heather that daymented is someone I knew when she was fourteen.
At that time, my interactions with her were largely confined to sleepily picking up the phone bright and early on select weekday mornings in my college dorm room, whereupon a young girl’s voice would respond to my bleary, pot-smeared “Hello?” with the unsettling sobriquet “Dad?”
She would then blithely instruct me to call her high-school principal posing as her father in order to enable her to play hooky that day.
Being a bear of very little brain, I certainly did as instructed, several times.
My understanding is that a few years in Vegas straightened her right up, and today she’s a fine, upstanding young woman. A fine, highly energetic, upstanding young woman.
The things you people could get up to frighten me, slightly. But it could be a really great thing, too: like, you could invent a cheap, reliable source of non-polluting energy that’s easily manufactured from chicken poop, and thereby bring about world peace and a universal expansion of family-based agriculture. Or something.