Further adding to the Elly mystery is the fact that her last name is now Melvin, not Jordaan. Mr. Planet Gregory and I are wondering if perhaps she got married. Something strange is definitely afoot; if only I could read the mysterious entrails of the current entry I would be a very wise man indeed.
THIS JUST IN (8:53 AM EDT): Peggy is in labour! we are expecting the imminent arrival of her and Zachary's mutual spawn. Peggy's parents and Jessika are both headed down from Malvern for the event. As we know, there is currently a sun-moon opposition. Sun is in Virgo and the Moon is in Pisces. Expect a little anally-retentive tight ass with insipid, tearful emotions.
I drank beers with her and Deya for a little while until Leah came home. After that, the two sisters mostly sat on the front porch talking privately. I later learned that Grace thought Deya and me "surly." I never win: with girls, either they think I'm surly or I'm hitting on them. I overcompensate from one time to the next. Social skills are more complex than transcendental mathematics. That idiot savants can calculate square roots to 24 decimal places in their heads is no mystery; when you have no social skills you have considerably more computational power to devote to other things.
Matthew Hart showed up. He had an unusual giddiness to him, no doubt related to the uncomfortable issues of yesterday. He and I sat together inside the house drinking beer and wondering if Peggy had yet delivered her kid. He called the birthing center every 20 minutes for news.
He and I bought more beer, ordered a pizza, and socialized for a time with Leah and Grace. The energy in the house isn't nearly as bad as the circumstances would imply.
But nothing is simple or straightforward. Even more than usual, Matthew wants to get drunk and stay drunk. He suggested buying scotch. I would have, but then his plan morphed into one of buying champagne and going to visit Peggy at the birthing center. By then I was bloated and tired, so I crept off to my room and took a prework nap.
I awoke with a start at one point to Matthew announcing through my door that Peggy's kid was born, and that it was a healthy baby boy. She'd called the thing "Baboose" while pregnant, but I don't yet know what it's post-uterine name is.
Also, the article by James Plummer about these musings is already on the Cavalier Daily's website. It's a nice positive article, which is refreshing given the beating that online journals usually get in the mainstream/non-journal media ("they're weird," "they're petty," "they're self-indulgent," etc.). I'm always surprised that people aren't more shocked by my lifestyle. Plummer is about as shocked1 as anyone, but buried in my vice he finds virtue, which he distills into a spirit of enviable individualism. Of course, it bears noting that Mr. Plummer had already been a musings fan for some months. He says Lucy Huntzinger was the one who originally gave him my URL. That's interesting, because although he and I live in the same town, the recommendation to see the musings came from hundreds of miles away. It's a cliché I know, but really, it still blows my mind that the Internet has in some respects rendered the concept of place irrelevant.
Private note on the public web to Kristin & Kathleen: What's your email address(es)? Matthew Hart and I might come visit you Saturday night.
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