Ok, so I’m dating Ellen Muth. No, this isn’t my severely delayed entry for Rabbithole Day, this is a dream I had last night, and don’t ask me why it was Ellen Muth. She’s cute and everything, but so not my type. Anyway, in the dream I was madly in love, and that’s not even the funniest part. Nope. I could levitate. Not only could I levitate, but this ability earned me the singular honor (can you feel the sarcasm coming through) of being Criss Angel’s one and only apprentice. Yeah, see? I despise him with every fiber of my being. Yet, in the dream, somehow my ability to actually levitate impinged on his illusion of doing so and he somehow legally forced me to be his apprentice so he could keep me from outdoing him. It’s dream logic, what do I know? I think I would have rather been David Blaine’s apprentice. At least he’s just a dork without adding the dumbass-freak on top of it. Sadly, this was not to be and also was the extent of the dream with the small exception of a bit where Ellen was nagging me for not kicking Criss’ ass with my levitation and taking the spotlight. Weird.
In other news, I think I’m mostly over the funk I was in over turning thirty-five. The bountiful swag I was bestowed in celebration of the day of my birth helped. What can I say, I’m a material girl living in a material world, or something. I got a lovely, original, Corpse Bride movie poster, which my dear friends Cory and Ann Marie went out of their way to bid on at a local charity silent auction when they noticed I got out bid. Gotta love’m. Corrie Ann got me a big’ol bag of stuff which included, Firefly: The Complete Series DVDs, not one, but two Rottweiler calendars (one for home and one for work — I miss my Leeloo), The Iron Giant DVD (shut-up, it’s a great movie), and a cool, gargoyle ‘Keep Out’ sign for my office at home. Those last two were actually from The Boy. Does he know his dad, or what? My brother and his wife got me a gift certificate to Amazon, with which I snagged some movies I’ve been really wanting, and my parents tossed some cash my way to supplement yesterday’s shopping spree at Triplette Competition Arms. What more could I have asked for? Food and cake were delicious too. Mom made me my yearly German Chocolate cake. It’s the only time of year I get it because most of my family doesn’t like it much. Yay, mom!
The trip to Triplette yesterday was actually kind of spur-of-the-moment. I had planned to go later in the week, but my schedule unexpectedly opened up and the people at Triplette were highly accommodating. I called them shortly after noon, when I realized I’d have the time for the hour-and-a-half drive, and ordered the epee and a glove. They assemble all weapons to order, so you can understand my delight when she said they could rush it and I could come pick it up later that afternoon. When I got there the grip I’d ordered, as it turns out, was too big. Their armorer happily offered to change it for the smaller one while I waited. It was while he was doing this that I found the book.
I’ve been wanting On Fencing by Aldo Nadi, for a while. Among many fencers this book is a bible. Nadi is considered one of the foremost swordsmen to ever practice the art. The problem: the book was, and still is, out of print, and even used copies go for forty dollars, while new and like-new copies approach eighty dollars. Check out the link. See for yourself. But I digress. I was looking through their books; they had lots of copies of The Big Book of Fencing, and The Living Sword, and The Art and Science of Fencing. These are all great books. Then, there it was. A single, shrink-wrapped copy of On Fencing.
I snapped it up and looked around me surreptitiously. I flipped it over and over convinced my eyes were deceiving me. This couldn’t be a brand new, never opened, never read copy of On Fencing, could it?. But it was, gloriously shrink-wrapped and waiting, as if for me alone, on the shelf. I put it with my glove and my copy of Triplette’s catalog and waited for the armorer to return; the two minutes he said it would take to switch out the grip seemed to last an eternity. Finally, he returned. ‘Act casual,’ I thought, ‘You don’t want him to catch on.‘ “Are you guys selling this for the cover price?“, I asked sounding very casual, to my surprise. “Let me check,” he said and grabbed their catalog. “Yep, nineteen-ninety-five.” My knees went weak, I think, but, I kept my cool, “Eh, go ahead and toss it on my bill.” And then I went skipping out of there, my faith in the world restored.
It’s the little things, right, that make it all worth while? God bless the little things, and God bless Ellen Muth. Oh, and Buddha bless Chewbacca.
