our good grandfather built a wooden nest

WHICH WILL LEAD ME TO BUILD YOU A NICE PATIO.
that's right, fools. i got the official thumbs up for habitat for humanity to volunteer!
once a month. pretty magnificant. it's the very least i could do and i'm doing it.

for those bob the builders or ginny givers.

also, gonna toss out an idea that is being tossed around.

my friend brandae & i have been wanting to go to a postsecret event. we actually came very close to booking one last spring HOWEVER at the last minute, they were closed to the public.

HOWEVER.

It appears, not this time.

so the plans are back on.

well, in motion, anyway.

we will way the pros and cons of this event being thrown on a school night in mid week and see if mr.warren can be put on the waiting list.

for the few who don't know...

this is one that i found YEARS back that now as a barista, i think of everytime an s.o.b. enters my service field.

also, just wanted to toss out there that on the postsecret myspace account (that has just recently been put to a stop), there are people who have posted cellphone numbers for those who would like to anonymously send a secret. essentially, it's postsecret gone lingo, handheld, instant, and slightly creepy. at least you can check out a person's music choices before telling them about what REALLY happened on that sofa couch at aunt linda's three months ago.

TUNE:

BLUE RIDGE MOUNTAINS - FLEET FOXES

i was spending my morning today chillin' by my cash register waiting for customers while sippin' on a doppio mezzo soy no whip cinnaom dolce latté in a mug when this song leaked into the room. i went to replay it... five... times. it was one of those moments where the flood gates open and you think

'' life ain't half bad. ''

side bar (again):

i have my registar's appointment tomorrow for school.

after my authorized leave last november, i have not set foot into a classroom that i wasn't teaching or assisting.

also, i am registered in a film program that is giving me that sinking stomach feeling. raised to listen to the jiminy cricket inside me, i am going to the miracle maker tomorrow and saying:`

''HI. So i know that i am supposed to be going into this program, but the insect with a top hat inside me told me not toooo... soooooo... i was KINDA hopin' that you could find me a program that could have me writin' stuff, actin' stuff, makin' stuff, and ideally have music and me meetin' chris martin part of that mix. ALSOZ, i KIIIINDA want fridays off. and a barista in the cafeteria... URDABEZT.''

soon followed by a stray jacket or mallet on the noggen.

but you know how it is. after a while, what jiminy says...

UPDATE:

because i don't send my readers out in the world without a test drive, i txtd a person who oh-so graciously posted their number on postsecret's myspace and received the response:

''It has to happen at some point, right? I don't think it's bad. Really''

then followed by me txting back a thank you and a congradulations on the engagment that she posted about. then realized that was a complete misunderstanding.

AWKWAAAAAAAAAAARD.

so with THAT, i bid you goodnight.

wish me luck!

your secret txter,

mtb. lolz