Ions

Caleb convinced me to watch Rise of the Planet of the Apes last week, and it was so awful. I want those 106 minutes of my life back. But that's what you do when you're married; you sit through bad movies because your sweetheart likes shallow plots, terrible dialogue, and physics-defying special effects. Why? Because the next week he will sit through five hours of "Wives and Daughters" with you, despite its poor cinematography, sappy romance, and overly-dramatic theme music. It's give and take. (Let the record state that I LOVE Wives and Daughters despite its previously-mentioned shortcomings.) Thankfully we found an audiobook that required no compromise between us. It's called The Disappearing Spoon. We both are loving this book, but probably wouldn't recommend it to "normal" people because it's a history of the elements of the periodic table. So we may not like the same movies, but we've got chemistry! (I couldn't help myself.)

Old Fogey

My mom has always told me that I am an "old soul." I used to resent that statement, but as I am approaching "upper 20's" status (happy 27th to me tomorrow!) I have come to accept reality. I am an old soul. I love to go to bed early and wake up early. I am a school nurse (the next youngest school nurse in my district is older than my mother). I play racquetball with a group of ladies who are all over 65. I am already hitting the point where technology eludes me, and I don't even care. I've also hit the point where large groups of people overwhelm me, and I'd much have an intimate conversation with one or two other people rather than socializing with a boistrous group of 20. (Too much daggum racket!) I'm all about matinees and discounts, and I already have some gray hair. Time to come to grips with my identity.