Saturday, October 31, 2009

1 out of 4 ain't bad

I remember turning 25, it was kind of like turning 24 only that it took longer.

Oh Kari, a quarter century old... don't worry though, lots of great things could not happen without the magical number 25. For a start, parking, it takes the magical number to earn 6, 15, and sometimes even up to 20 mins on a parking meter, which could be a significant amount of time when doing something like blowing out birthday candles perhaps. How about the realm of science, why without the number 25 we could never have the lovable element manganese, you may laugh, but without manganese we would not have photosynthesis. Without the number 25 in sports no major league baseball team could have a full roster and volleyball, under rally scoring rules of course, would be quite the tedious arrangement. Their would be no silver for love as it is the marker for a twenty fifth anniversary. There would be no fast route between New Mexico and Wyoming. Musical performances by the likes of Veruca Salt and Patti Smith would go unrealized by the lack of the number 25. In Britain, there would be no slang term for 25 pounds, which is a pony by the way.

While these all attest to the importance of the number 25, I think we can all agree on one thing, that is the ultimate reason, purpose, and need for the number twenty five; and that is you, Kari B. Gallow. Without the number 25 we couldn't have you and thus I for one am eternally greatful for the number 25.

love: the Cat and I

Saturday, October 3, 2009

An Untold Tale of an Unknown Tail

And now a sojourn to the uncanny tale of one Rupert S. Beltweille (monkey to some).
A young and surprisingly limber primate sprung forth into a world of possibilities and challenges a plenty. Rupert left home at the shocking age of 9 to become a stock broker in the obscure, yet astonishingly versatile, Tallahassee Market Exchange.
After several years of primate-less comradeship in the work place, Rupert grew tired of his small successful endeavor in the marketplace. Warning of dire straits in future economic affairs within this nation, Rupert left his firm of Johnson & son & other son. He moved onto use his marketing talents in New York City and took a job carving custom figureheads for the sea faring ships of which Rupert had grown to admire on the Atlantic by his adobe shack on the NYC coast. After gaining a slight dependance on the favors of an ice cold glass of campari, Rupert took to the seas. Aboard the Sweet Saint Whatever he met the unsavory, and raggedly shavin, Duelin Dugan Boru and suffered adventures the likes of which shall not be mentioned in such a civil blog.
After a run in with some ill tempered Maori off the coast of New Zealand, Rupert left the sea and the surf behind. He headed back to New York and found passage to a small town in the central valleys of New York. Penniless and wandering, he stumbled upon the humble and gracious doorstep of the Great Family Gallow of Groton, where he was taken in by the sweet lady Kari and her oft aloof companion Theoderic.
He shared home and hearth with this sweet couple. All was well, until he was presented with a new co-tenant, and unkown assassin to poor sweet Rupert, the sweet, sly, and sometimes savage Jacob A. Wright-Gallow.
After several vicious, deadly, and quite loud encounters, Rupert offered submission for favor from this wretched, yet sometimes cuddly, beast of little repose. Whilst Jacob did not wish to fail in his mission nor expose his cliant for which the task had been payed for, he found great training and release from the savage beatings delivered to poor, sweet, limber, Rupert. Little is known of what has happened to Rupert, there is a rumor that travels on the wind of him living a life of desolation in the north eastern shores of this great nation, in a world of suffering, but never death at the hands of his keeper, companion, and nemesis, Jacob A. Wright-Gallow.

Lately in Maine

Today I come to you with sea shanties on the radio and rain falling on the windows.

In the past week we've seen many a leaves turn from green to red, sometimes right before our eyes. We've also watched the Nor'easters take on someone in soccer and win by some undisclosed amount. And, speaking of sports, I was informed yesterday that I must become a Red Sox, Patriots, Celtics and Bruins fan now that I'm living in New England. I'm not quite sure about that, as Tom Brady is choking and the Jets (Did you know the Jets were in Cortland!?!) are a shocking 3-0. Regardless, enough of this meaningless sports talk, onto more important things, like coffee and kitties.

Jacob has taken to attacking a stuffed monkey, and we've been drinking in some delightful Ithaca Coffee Company Coffee (thanks Mom!).

Derek has been drawing self portraits and various appendages for his drawing class. He sometimes wears his fancy blazer in what he refers to as his artist outfit.

And I've been wandering around outside in the exceedingly chilly fall weather. Derek and I volunteered at the Rachel Carson National Wildlife Refuge and got the opportunity to hang out in a Salt Marsh and take data. Yesterday I traveled with my boss Mitch Rasor of MRLD to the small town of Rockland, home of the Lobster Festival, for a site visit.

Most importantly, we'll be heading back to the great state of Upstate New York at some point this upcoming week for a wedding and a visit! See you all soon!