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I call this, "Glowing with the force, and swallowing strands of plastic beard, while keeping my grumpy Luke scowl." Punk Daenarys Targaryan in the back there.   Spoiler alert: she's my

So, this happened yesterday. Here are the happy couple in the Gothic Hall in the Oud Stadthuis in Brugge.  Lovely day.   

TM and I had dinner with db and Pigkilla, here in Honolulu! Good food, good conversation, good time had by all.

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  • 2 weeks later...

I'm not good with birthdays, and I have one coming.

 

So as I feel in debt to the G board, I'll leave one of those unpleasant but absolute true stories which is simply weird.

 

When I was about 11 (+-1..2) I would watch television long after normal bedtimes, as my parents let me.  I got to see a lot of MASH as it originally aired.  

 

This is where it gets weird.  At that age, MASH ended, and I remember watching Alan Alda in a sitcom, something like House Calls, but I could be wrong on that.  But I was young, sitting in front of the tv, and noticed some sort of mark on my stomach.  So I picked it.  Gross.  And kept picking it while thinking about doctors on the television half hour.  That and as I now remember, martinis and open operations.  I picked the mark next to my belly button so much, not yet realizing this wasn't good, that a mark is still there till this day.  I think my parents watched and said nothing, at least as I remember it.  They might have stopped me once, but maybe not.  It's slight, but real.  And then I saw some sort of news show on hernias, when I was at that age, about the lower intestines poking through the stomach area or something, and the whole thing freaked me out.  But I never asked my parents.

 

Oddly enough, at an older age, when I got to the TO science center with school, the initial washrooms on the tour were closed, as I walked into one, and someone had attacked them with crap, literally, all over the place.  (And I always see that area on news shows that go to the initial area around this.)  And I care about the exit store, which sells science products.

  

So, Alan Alda means something to me, as the mark is still there, with helicopter sounds, bodies coming in, and flipping martinis, with open operations.  Peace, war.  The number.

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