You Are Among Friends

So you have probably heard about this Focus on the Family/Tim Tebow ad that will run during the Superbowl that is "likely" to carry an anti-abortion message. 

How controversial! My! How startling! An anti-abortion ad running during the Superbowl! Surely the celebrity standing behind it has strong and passionate views on the subject, non? Tim, what say you?

"Well, um, I think, you know, either, whatev--you know, what people think about it, I think, um, that I know a lot of people, I mean, some people won't agree with it, y'know, but, I think they can at least, um, y'know respect that, that I stand up for what I believe, and, um, and I'm never, y'know, shy about that, I don't feel like I'm very pr--preachy about it but I do stand up for what I believe, and at least you can respect that, because I do stand up, and um."

Hark! May I address you as "Tim," Professor Tebow?

Now, I don't know Tim at all but since he a. has won a Heisman Trophy and b. was never aborted, I definitely give weight to his opinion on whether or not women everywhere should get to choose when and with whom they start a family and give life to another, like, y'know...person. Especially since he probably deals with this question personally ALL THE TIME. As a virgin and all.

Meanwhile, Planned Parenthood released their response:

Deftly and kindly handled--not a surprise. It's good of them to remind us that being "pro-choice" means respecting every woman's right and ability to make her own decision.

OK I can't like, sit here and BLOG all night because I have homework to do and this is 100% procrastination, but I just made some delicious coffee in the ol' French press and a) I wanted an excuse to brag about that because it sounds fancy and requires a scrap of effort and b) I wanted to tell you the story of how I got this giant coffee mug shaped like a giraffe.

Well actually, I guess it isn't really shaped like a giraffe. It's shaped like a cup, but it's painted like a giraffe, and it has a giraffe neck protruding from the top with a giraffe head attached, appropriately enough, at the end of the neck. As a coffee cup, it is totally impractical. The head, as you can see, includes pointy little ceramic ears and horns, making the thing downright painful to hold by the handle, especially with hands as lily-white and delicate as mine. So you have to hold it by the mug part, which traditionally houses the boiling hot coffee part. Engineering department, please! Anyway, on to the story.

One day I got a smallish box in the mail. This package was left on our front porch, and it had a return address written on it--San Francisco, I think. Definitely California. There was no name with the return address. Inside the box were some packing peanuts and this mug with a giraffe neck and that is it. When I opened it, I stood in the kitchen staring at it for a long time. The whole thing seemed like a mistake, like a wrong number on the phone, except that the package had been very clearly addressed to me, Lindsey J. Markel, in black Sharpie. I tried to think of who I knew in San Francisco, but the only people I know who live there are the Tanner family, and they are not even real. I tried to remember if I had an inside joke with anyone involving a giraffe, or coffee, or cups, or mail. I tried to think of who knew my address, including apartment number. It occurred to me that I might have a stalker, and this freaked me out a little bit, until I figured it was probably okay to have a stalker that lives like seven states away whose preferred method of terrorism is sending hilarious giant coffee mugs through the mail.

I am telling you this because I still don't know where this coffee mug came from. It sat on the kitchen counter for a number of months, untouched, as a weird little decoration--also, it is too big to fit in the cup cabinet--and then one Saturday morning I picked it up and declared it my signature mug of choice. I mean, I don't even know if I want to know where it came from anymore. Mystery, like coffee, is one of the spices of life, non?

But seriously, if you sent me this thing, get in touch. I need to know I won't be waking up with a giraffe head in my bed anytime soon.

Really hot coffee in the mornings. I love everything about morning coffee, especially in the winter. I love the little routine of getting it ready, I love my scuffed-up Espresso Royale travel mug, I love stepping out the front door into the quiet white cold day and watching the steam rise from the cup. Also I am having some SERIOUS snot issues lately and hot coffee feels so good to my stuffed-up head and scratchy throat.

"The Yoga Experiment." My friend Gillian and I are working on the same mantra this year--persistence. She is taking up yoga, to the tune of five classes per week, and is chronicling her efforts in a new column.

Toms shoes. My Barletta Cordones have held up so well through daily stomping since the end of summer last year, even though I have abused them by trouncing through snow and ice and salt, over brick streets and cobblestone sidewalks. Love you, little greys.

Drawn diaries. Gemma Correll writes, alongside the first entry of her "daily diaries" set on Flickr, "Sure no-one is really interested in my boring life, but never mind." AU CONTRAIRE, MY FRIEND. I have read Nicole Georges' Invincible Summer anthologies a million times, and I could click through Gemma's Flickr set all day. I love the way these kinds of diary drawings bring out the excitement and fun of the average day-to-day "boring life."

Brunch. I haven't had brunch since Sunday, so this isn't particularly relevant; I just really love brunch because it's the best meal, the end.

My ukulele! I love this thing! I am not going to say much more about it right now because one of the aspects of learning persistence, for me, is learning to just learn more and talk about learning less. But I just love it and I play it all the time, a very simple pleasure.

Trying to be more grateful. It is a choice, one I am very happy to be revisiting.

I'm just so sick of pedants and conceited little tearer-downers I could scream.

--Franny Glass, born of J.D. Salinger.

And this:

For all that has been, thanks;
to all that will be, yes.

--Dag Hammarskjöld