Today’s the husband’s 27th birthday. I know he’s excited; he forgot it was this week until I reminded him. 😉 At any rate, if we do anything special, it will probably be ordering out. I don’t have time to go anywhere or do anything aside from the thesis, wheeeee. But I’ll make today special for him somehow–maybe I’ll be a little less crazy than usual.  …  Nah. ^-^

And now for some randomness, something which I believe you are all used to by now. Yesterday (or was it the day before?) I noticed one of the lights on the dash came on. “Check gages,” said the dash in a glowing yet dusty red light. “Gages?” Fuck, that’s not how you spell it. I spent the rest of the drive home thinking about how they could possibly spell it wrong and not at all about what the light even meant. Well, I figured out what it meant on my way in to the office this morning when I realized the spedometer wasn’t working. Nor was the gas gauge or the temperature gauge. Well, dippy. I guess we’ll have to get that looked into this weekend or something. And I thought we might be closer to actually having money again.

Secondly, (The noticing of the “gage” light being first and the noticing of the broken “gauges” being third, chronologically.) I’ve broken down and have put my binders, books, dictionaries, and notes in the little grey suitcase to haul around as opposed to breaking my shoulders and back by carrying it all on my back and shoulders. I’ve noticed a lot of pain in my left shoulder. Well, more than usual, and my back has been acting up even more than usual as well. My right shoulder has started in the follies, and it is usually the sane one of the trio. Add to that some neck pain and additional headaches, and I decided it was time to do something unfortunately drastic. I hate hauling around a wheely-bag–I feel like the older students in their 50s who simply can’t haul around backpacks because of bad joints. Wait, I guess that describes me except for the age thing. Dammit. Oh well, it’ll only be an embarrassment for the next month. After that, it goes back in the closet along with my other baggage. (Do we take that literally or metaphorically?)

Fourthly, I looked up the spelling of “gage” in my Langenshceidt when I got in this morning. There are four definitions:

1. n [ME, fr. MF, of Gmc origin; akin to OHG wetti pledge — more at WED] (14c) 1: a token of defiance; specif: a glove or cap cast on the ground to be taken up by an opponent as a pledge of combat 2: something deposited as a pledge of performance
2. vt (15c) 1 archaic: PLEDGE 2 archaic: STAKE, RISK
3. var of GAUGE
4. n (1847): GREENGAGE

So “gage” is a variant of “gauge,” but not until the third definition. Silly car companies should really look these things up before putting them indelibly on a dashboard.

On a far more random note than all of the above, did you know that “gaggle” only refers to a flock of geese when they’re not in flight? When a flock of wildfowl (ducks, geese) are in flight, it’s called a skein. Fascinant! How’s that for a birthday present, Baby Doll?

And to Heather who’s home sleeping like I wish I were:

I’ve written a letter to Daddy

His address is Heaven above

I’ve written “Dear Daddy, we miss you

And wish you were with us to love”

Instead of a stamp I put kisses

The postman says that’s best to do

I’ve written a letter to Daddy

Saying “I love you”

Seriously, don’t ask. I am, however, going to be singing it all day… Oh well, the psychosis might drive me to type faster or something. 😉