strange days

It's been a little weird around here lately. Low-grade weird. Not, I'm trapped in a psychedelic wonderland, but it's kind of cool and groovy weird; more like, hey, did I order THIS kind of coffee? Then again, I don't quite remember. Oh, well, it's tasty and obviously sufficiently caffeinated, weird.

We're selling the house we just moved out of, on Quail Run Lane in Manassas. No, wait! Perhaps Matt's mom is moving in, and we're selling the other Manassas house that SHE'S in! But, hold on. Is THAT a good idea? Hm. Meanwhile, the squirrels (or something) in our 'new' attic are adding a deck to the condo they've been constructing up there. (actually, I haven't heard them in at least a week. But since we have yet to investigate, or set any traps, who knows what the heck is going on.)

I was responsible for content this past Sunday at church. Now, if THAT isn't weird, I don't know what is. I even preached a sermon, of sorts. Sort of. The closest I'll ever come, anyway. Thank goodness. I managed to slip in a Star Trek reference, so that was pretty awesome. To me, anyway. Hm. I hope there weren't very many new people. I'd hate to have our chuch evaluated through a Kate-content-filled lens. :) Unless, of course, they're big Star Trek fans. That would rule.
Doing communion was especially odd. I kept thinking, hey, I'm not qualified to do this! And, I suppose, at some churches, I'm not. Then again, who is? It's all a matter of perspective.

I love my job sometimes. We have these faint brushes with quasi-celebrity. Did I mention that Gary Sinise wandered through the office recently? Yes. We have photos to prove it. Unfortunately, I was away from my desk. (His stint as legless Lieutenant Dan in "Forrest Gump" makes him interested in the 'military newspaper'? I wasn't quite sure of the relevance.) The other guy in the picture is a coworker of mine named Brooks. He hates the photo. Nice to see that men can be as vain as women. I work about 10 feet behind where the photographer must have been standing. A vast sea of cubicles, my office.
For the past 20 minutes, I've been listening to my boss interview the next Bachelor. He's in the Navy, I believe. He says he found his true love on the show, which starts airing April 1! There you go. You read it here first. (hope I don't get busted for that one) Woo, he is a hottie, though. I wonder how Matt would feel about me watching The Bachelor. A press release we received today says that in that first episode, one woman does backflips in her evening wear to impress him. And another, a bodybuilder, wants to arm-wrestle him. I wonder which a man would be more impressed by. (rhetorical question)

My parents visited this past weekend, too. Quite possibly the last time I'll see them in awhile. At least, no trips planned in either direction at this point. At left is a photo of my dad skiing in Alaska (where they're from), just because he's so darned cute in it.
It was very lovely to see them, and fun to show off the new house, even in its 'yes, we STILL have just moved, no matter WHAT the calendar says' state. They were all abuzz with infectious excitement about our beloved alma mater, the Washington State Cougars, making it to the NCAA tournament. Whoop! Whoop!! We even got Matt sort of interested. The Cougs got past Oral Roberts on Thursday, but sadly succumbed, despite an excellent effort, in double overtime to Vanderbilt on Saturday. On Thursday, we had been rooting for George Washington University to beat whomever they played in the hopes that it would ensure a televised broadcast for us to enjoy in that second round. But they got spanked instead, so naturally the networks assumed that no one on the East Coast would care about Vandy vs. WSU. Boooo! We were FORCED to go to Damon's sports bar -- oh, the torture! (joking -- it was fun) to watch. So we camped out in a booth for quite awhile. Lizzy behaved very nicely for what turned out to be the last time that weekend. We kept thinking we were about to clear out, when along would come another overtime. Heartbreaking!
The waiter was hilarious in that inadvertent sort of way. It seemed to me like something that should have been a Saturday Night Live sketch. He was a tall, hulking sort of fellow -- definitely a better door than a window, as Matt put it. He seemed to sense just when the Cougs had a key possession, and he would scurry over to our table, stand in front of it just so as to block all views of the massive TV that we sat about 25 feet from, and say, "Is there anything that I can do for you? Anything at all? I'm here to serve! Are you sure? Are you sure?" as we're desperately dodging and weaving in a futile attempt to glimpse past his giant form. Poor guy. We were his only tip for probably 2 1/2 hours or so. But we were generous. (unlike Vanderbilt! Boo boo BOOOOO.)