from the anchor (II)

Coil up Your Ropes And Anchor Here Till Better Weather Doth Appear. Done and done. Everything’s coated in ice, and what better place to be other than at Anchor Grill, with my laptop and a pen and paper and a steaming cup of hot coffee? This is the way cold wintry days should be spent (though, to be honest, I’d rather spend such cold, wintry days cuddled up on a sofa with a roaring fireplace and with the Wisconsinite in my arms… Patience, Child, Patience). Also, why do I always talk to myself as I’m a parent scolding a child? Weird…

I’ll miss this place when I make the 8-hour move north.

I’ve been considering trying to buy a mug as a keepsake.

I already have an employee’s uniform as a t-shirt.

(They sold it to me since I’m a regular)

Muggs will probably become my new “Anchor.”

I pity the men and women there who will have to put up with me.

I’ve been doing lots of writing lately, when I have the time, since it’s way too cold to go “out and about.” My writing has consisted of (a) my ongoing way-too-in-depth bible study on 1 Peter and (b) an essay charting events in England (or “Great Britain” after 1707) and their effects on the American colonies. The essay is already at 21 pages, and I still have to deal with the initial colonization of New England (a fascinating tale in its own right) and the French & Indian War (which really laid the groundwork for colonial dissent and, eventually, the Revolution). My main interest remains the battles themselves (such a guy thing), and I’m hoping to write narrative histories of all the major battles, much as I did with the battle(s) of Lexington & Concord several months ago. At this point in the paragraph, I’m sure, every one of you has lost interest. Kudos if you didn’t just skim it (Ams, I’m talking to YOU).

Dylan sent me a buzz-feed list (“Is that one of those meme things?”) about 23 signs you’re an awkward individual. I grinned sheepishly since every single one is an attribute of my daily existence. Here are a few which have been rather prominent as of late:

(1) Your array of facial expressions makes people uncomfortable. Ams and I are renown for our facial expressions, and I’m glad the Wisconsinite enjoys them.

(2) Whenever you’re in public, your unique talent of tripping on air emerges. Thankfully I have a legitimate excuse this week: ICE.

(3) Restaurants are hazard zones. Food + public place = recipe for disaster. In March I’m going to be doing dinner with Mandy and several of her coworkers when they’re here in Cincinnati for an urban mission’s trip. I’ve been practicing, and they say practice makes perfect, but I fear all my “practice” may just exacerbate (note: not masturbate) the situation.

(4) Silent elevator rides physically pain you. Ams knows this well. I always have to break the silence. This statement naturally leads into #5…

(5) Lulls in conversation result in you saying anything and everything to fill the silence. Ams: we tell NO ONE about that elevator ride.

(6) Small talk? Big problem. I stray from normalcy pretty fast, and it weirds people out. “You know what I’ve been thinking about lately? The differences between tusks and horns.” The differences were pretty much assumed in biology class, but they never really spelled them out. That bothered me.

(7) Sometimes you lose muscle control and just twitch nervously. Just the other day I opened the refrigerator door and went to put a liter of Sprite onto the shelf when my arm spasmed and sent the liter flipping through the air. Conveniently it landed right where I wanted it to. Nailed it.

(8) You dread posing for pictures. I seek to overcome my anxiety by trying to make myself look normal. It doesn’t work, and it hasn’t since childhood. Slideshow! (I’m in it):

(9) Your heart drops when the teacher tells the class to get into groups. The best professor was the one who assigned groups. Otherwise I just sat in my chair all white-knuckled staring forward like a deer in headlights as the other students rose from their seats.

(10) When you go for a high five, the other person usually doesn’t notice. I try to “recover” by pretending I’m attempting to catch flies. Because, you know, that’s entirely normal.