Best Anniversary Present Ever, In Which Rafa and I Share a Moment
Hey yon Bloggerland!
Sorry I've been a little bit absent lately. I've just finished my first draft of NEVERFALL (aka Ever-Novella) and turned it in to editor Kristin. So now I'm returning to civilization.
Last week Sam and I celebrated our anniversary, and last night he surprised me with this little beauty:
That there is the Sports Illustrated edition of the most epic match in the Federer/Nadal history, when Rafa won his first Wimbledon title.
And it's signed. IT'S SIGNED!
Which means that at some point, Rafa's fingers touched this magazine, and then yesterday I touched that magazine. Which means that we are connected in the universe. Which means that Rafa and I have finally reached first base.
I understand that through my logic, one would actually have to round the bases twelve times to reach "Home Plate" but that's the way I was raised. My mama always told me that "first base" was simply being born into the same world as someone of the opposite sex. We were a very conservative family. It made it awkward when my junior high friends would be all, "Did you reach first base?" And I'd answer, "Of course. I've reached first base with every boy in this school. Duh."
You do not want to know how many times Sam and I had to round the bases to bring Kid C into this world.
Sorry I've been a little bit absent lately. I've just finished my first draft of NEVERFALL (aka Ever-Novella) and turned it in to editor Kristin. So now I'm returning to civilization.
Last week Sam and I celebrated our anniversary, and last night he surprised me with this little beauty:
That there is the Sports Illustrated edition of the most epic match in the Federer/Nadal history, when Rafa won his first Wimbledon title.
And it's signed. IT'S SIGNED!
Which means that at some point, Rafa's fingers touched this magazine, and then yesterday I touched that magazine. Which means that we are connected in the universe. Which means that Rafa and I have finally reached first base.
I understand that through my logic, one would actually have to round the bases twelve times to reach "Home Plate" but that's the way I was raised. My mama always told me that "first base" was simply being born into the same world as someone of the opposite sex. We were a very conservative family. It made it awkward when my junior high friends would be all, "Did you reach first base?" And I'd answer, "Of course. I've reached first base with every boy in this school. Duh."
You do not want to know how many times Sam and I had to round the bases to bring Kid C into this world.
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