kris

History. Gone.

Blog Instead of being asleep at 17:56 on 2 March 2007, kitt created this:

I went to Kris' blog today to see if had posted recently. When I didn't see any posts on the front page, I logged in to see the posts.

And couldn't find any.

When I asked him about it, he told me that he had deleted them. He felt blogging wasn't for him, and so removed all of the posts.

I was surprised, and, honestly, remarkably bummed (disappointed, shocked, hurt) about it. He had told some stories, some of which were really cute and quite humourous.

I can respect he doesn't want the content back up, but I could have kept the posts and taken down the site.

I'm just really sad the posts are all gone.

The spider that wasn't

Blog Instead of being asleep at 19:28 on 20 February 2007, kitt created this:

So, I was sitting with my computer on my lap, typing away at the couch, with the television playing some popular show in the background. I was "watching" the episode, which means I was peripherally listening to the show, but mostly concentrating on my work in front of me.

Sitting on the couch is just the worst for movement: I sink into the cushions and just stop moving. Bad for burning those extra 800 calories a day with constant fidgeting, but useful for relaxing.

To my surprise, after a bit of working, I had been so still that a spider crawled up my arm during a concentration pause. When I felt the movement on my arm, and looked down to see it's little black body, I yelped, jumped up and brushed it off.

A few minutes later, Kris walked in. "Did I hear a squawk?"

"Yes! There was a spider crawling on me, and it was THIS BIG!"

He laughed, and wandered into the kitchen.

A few minutes later, the spider was back, and this time, it was crawling across my hand. It was then that I realized that no, this wasn't a spider, spiders don't walk across hands. Oh. My. Tick!

I shrieked, jumped up, slammed my computer down on the table, brushed the tick off my hand and dashed around the table. "Tick! Tick! Tick!"

Moments later, Kris rounded the corner in the kitchen, milk in one hand, pizza in the other, watching me dance at the small bug on the pillow on the couch.

"You know, you can be such a girl sometimes."

"Yes, yes, I know, kill the tick for me, will you?"

Turns out, today's tick didn't attach to Annie on her off-leash run earlier in the day. Instead. it hitched a ride, looking for redder pastures than the muscle-y dog.

Redder pastures. Like my hip, no doubt.

Winning the argument

Blog Written with a loving hand by kitt some time around 15:24 on 20 February 2007

Two Fridays ago, Kris and I went to Seattle and visited with Ben, Lisa and Jake. Ben, at one point, showed us Jake's Michelin Man legs and arms, where his baby fat rolls jiggled and folded. At some point soon, Jake will hit his second baby growth spurt and lose all of the jiggles. Until then, however, Ben is showing it off.

On Wednesday night last week, at communal dinner, I mentioned we had journeyed north and seen Jake, and wasn't he just the most adorable butterball? Beth commented that, look, everyone has a line on his arm, just above his elbow, where his roll of baby fat made a permanent crease in the skin. No, really, look, look.

We all looked, and sure enough, we all had those lines. Sure, some were really faint, almost invisible, but still there.

So, today on the drive from the airport with Kris and Heather, we talked about this fact when Heather and I were catching up. When I said everyone has this crease, here, look, look, Kris chimed in, "No, not everyone."

Well, the man with less than 4% body fat could be right, but I wasn't going to admit it any time soon. I pulled up his shirt sleeve and tried to find his crease. "It's there," I insisted, looking.

We found Heather's really fast, and mine was findable. Kris' not so much. "Well, it's there."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is. You just can't see it."

"If I can't see it, doesn't that mean it's not there?"

"There's a subcutaneous crease that isn't visible from the surface. So, yes, just because you can't see it, doesn't mean it's not there."

"Okay."

"Okay? That's it? I won the argument? I can't believe you're giving up that easily."

"You used 'subcutaneous' in an argument. How can you not win?"

Heather piped up from the back seat, "You two are such geeks."

Winning the argument

Blog Yeah, kitt finished writing this at 23:45 on 15 February 2007

Two Fridays ago, Kris and I went to Seattle and visited with Ben, Lisa and Jake. Ben, at one point, showed us Jake's Michelin Man legs and arms, where his baby fat rolls jiggled and folded. At some point soon, Jake will hit his second baby growth spurt and lose all of the jiggles. Until then, however, Ben is showing it off.

On Wednesday night last week, at communal dinner, I mentioned we had journeyed north and seen Jake, and wasn't he just the most adorable butterball? Beth commented that, look, everyone has a line on his arm, just above his elbow, where his roll of baby fat made a permanent crease in the skin. No, really, look, look.

We all looked, and sure enough, we all had those lines. Sure, some were really faint, almost invisible, but still there.

So, today on the drive from the airport with Kris and Heather, we talked about this fact when Heather and I were catching up. When I said everyone has this crease, here, look, look, Kris chimed in, "No, not
everyone."

Well, the man with less than 4% body fat could be right, but I wasn't going to admit it any time soon. I pulled up his shirt sleeve and tried to find his crease. "It's there," I insisted, looking.

We found Heather's really fast, and mine was findable. Kris' not so much. "Well, it's there."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is. You just can't see it."

"If I can't see it, doesn't that mean it's not there?"

"There's a subcutaneous crease that isn't visible from the surface. So, yes, just because you can't see it, doesn't mean it's not there."

"Okay."

"Okay? That's it? I won the argument? I can't believe you're giving up that easily."

"You used 'subcutaneous' in an argument. How can you not win?"

Heather piped up from the back seat, "You two are such geeks."

Morning addict

Blog Instead of being asleep at 16:15 on 12 February 2007, kitt created this:

"You'll be happy to know I'm drinking only three and a half cups of coffee."

Me, happily, "Really? You found the optimal amount of grounds to make only four cups of coffee?"

"No, my travel mug's full."

Overdone

Blog Posted by kitt at 19:23 on 9 February 2007

"Whoops. That might have been too much."

"Did you overdo it?"

"Of course. Have you ever known me not to overdo it?"

"Nope."

"Exactly."

Front yard back mishap

Blog kitt decided around 16:40 on 8 February 2007 to publish this:

A couple nights ago, Kris announced he was going to start cleaning up the yard, starting with the front yard, and moving to the back (because the neighbors can't really see the backyard when they drive by).

I immediately resisted. I have plans! I have goals! I have a beautiful vision of the glory of the front yard! I can't have him mucking about in the front yard, working against the shining light of my front yard dream.

Or something like that.

In reality, I pouted.

Why do you want to change the front yard? Just leave it for me, I'll fix it. When I'm home. Next month.

No, he couldn't do that. He was embarrassed at all the weeds growing in the front yard. He wanted to clean it up, make it look good.

"The weeds are green! It's like free grass!"

"You're kidding, right?"

"Uh... yeah... Yes, yes, I am."

So, we agreed he could clean out the various parts of the front yard, removing parts I was planning on removing anyway. I reluctantly agreed to allow him to give me a push on the way to the glorious new front yard, full of blueberries, and marigolds, and trees, Trees, TREES!

The next night, he threw out his back.

He did it working out, away from me. I wasn't at class that night. He stepped funny and tweaked his back. The next day it was worse.

This morning, he couldn't put his shoes on without help.

Coincidence, sure. Now he can't work on the front yard when I'm gone for the weekend.

But, part of me can't help but wonder if in some way, he threw out his back so that I'd win.

He loves me that much.

My Homer gift

Blog Instead of being asleep at 16:04 on 4 February 2007, kitt created this:

It's true, it's true.

I gave Kris a Homer gift this past Christmas.

Gift giving in our house is usually an escalation sorta thing. It started when we passed the shy circling of the dating mating rituals and moved into the "I think I know your tastes, so I'm going to risk rejection by buying you things!" stage. Kris did the most risking: he bought me jewelry (always risky, as I wear very little).

I bought him underwear.

Before very many birthdays and holidays had passed, we were in danger of spending small fortunes on each other. We called a truce on the escalation, and try very hard to keep it on the low come the holiday season.

I failed miserably this past year, with Kris receiving about fifteen gifts. One or two of them being Homer gifts, I'll admit.

There's a Simpsons episode where Homer goes Christmas shopping for Marge and purchased a bowling ball for her. He figures, she won't really like it, so he'll get to use it. Of course, she overlooks the custom holes and the "HOMER" engraved into the ball, and learns to bowl to spite him.

I wasn't nearly so bad, but the periodic table shower curtain I purchased really wasn't on Kris' high-priority, must-buy list.

But, hey, I wanted to memorize the table. And what better way than while sitting on the toliet, looking at the shower?

My plan was to memorize the elements a little bit at a time. I've been drawing out the table once every few days, which is fun. The progression should be interesing.

A couple problems, however, have surfaced, the first being the curtain is backwards when I'm in the shower. I've started memorizing it in reverse, and have to work on imagining the elements in the correct order.

The other major problem is that, well, I don't actually sit on the toliet long enough to derive any meaningful learning time. Everyone should be so blessed with highly functioning colons.

We'll see how far I get. Right now, with only five weeks of studying, I have about 50 of the 111 elements correctly memorized. Patterns abound in that table (like, well, d'uh, it is periodic, you know).

WWYD if Jesus appeared right now in our living room?

Blog Written with a loving hand by kitt some time around 23:58 on 18 January 2007

Kris often asks random questions. They're quite entertaining and I've been meaning to write about them for the longest time (the majority of his questions are in the growing stack of yellow index cards - somewhere).

Well, tonight he pulled out a doozy. I was flipping through logos on the website of a company I've contracted to do my personal branding. It's all part of Project Decloak, which has taken a back burner to grouphug conversions, the Master Gardeners website, two client websites, my UCPC talk, volunteering with the OSCMS summit, and quite possibly another Post-Nuke to Drupal conversion that I'm debating taking up pending the other projects' completions.

One of the example logos was for some company with a name on the variation of "Soldiers for Christ." I wasn't looking at the company names, I was just looking at the logos, trying to find ones I liked so that the logo making company had some ideas (nevermind the fact that I send them seven logos of styles I like, as well as a description of what I want (simple, geometric, recognizable as a favicon.ico)), and so didn't really notice the company names.

Kris, however, did see the company names and expressed surprise, "Why would Jesus need soldiers?"

Without really thinking about it, I responded. "Um, to keep up the killings in his name?"

"Why not just call the company something like 'Overly Dogmatic Zealots for Christ?' I mean, if you're going to kill in someone's name, you better really believe in that person."

"Uh, I don't know," I answered, distracted, looking at more logos.

"So, what would you do if Jesus Christ appeared in our living room?"

Ah, one of those questions. He suddenly had my full attention. "Probably ask him about how he felt about the hundreds of thousands of people killed in his name."

"..." Kris waited.

"Or maybe tell him, that first time you died for our sins, that was a piece of cake. You're in for a world of hurting this time around."

Kris didn't believe me. "Come on, what would you really say. I mean, if a man materialized in our living room and started talking to you, well, maybe not a man, some spirit, but it started talking to you, what would you do?"

"Assume it was the devil."

Apparently this was the perfect answer to induce side-spliting laughter. He couldn't do much more than laugh, as I continued, "What? Come on, think about it. Something materialized right in front of your eyes, why would you believe it's anything other than a migraine, insanity or a daemon?"

"You wouldn't believe it was God or Jesus?"

"The thought that Jesus would materialize in my living room is as absurd as the concept of his dying for our sins and being the son of God and ascension into heaven and all the other stuff that goes with him. No, I'd assume it was something far more sinister."

"Really? So, I'd be passed out, and you'd like, are you the devil?"

"Yep. Pretty much."

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