Who Can Ever Tell What Each of Our Days Shall Hold Before That Day Doth Come to Pass?: A Study in Wonderment

Dearest Fred,


I have started two different postings, but posted neither. Distraught, dismayed, and disappointed in my self, I am resolved to improve my blogespondance in the coming years. In the Greenwich meantime, I shall post my first topic of updateness and delight. I have titled it “Who Can Ever Tell What Each of Our Days Shall Hold Before That Day Doth Come to Pass?: A Study in Wonderment.”


Who Can Ever Tell What Each of Our Days Shall Hold Before That Day Doth Come to Pass?: A Study in Wonderment

On a snowy Tuesday of last week (not so very different from this very Tuesday), I was suffering from a lethalish cold and went home on a lunch break to chug DayQuil and nap. Between that healthy lunch choice and sweet sleep, I started a blog entry to you that read as follows:

I have realized today the utterfoolishnessandconceit of my own participation in this esteemed blog. What will I ever write about that will be worthy of it when compared with the incroyable aventures that you are soon to be having? The most exciting thing that will be happening today is eating sweet potato fries for lunch.

Little did I know, little did I know…

Well, I guess the first Exciting Event came when I dragged my dripping nose back to work and found to my delight and surprise an INCROYABLE vase of daisies on my desk that had been sent by that nugget of a boy I’m dating.  I had told him I wasn’t feeling well and the little muffin had sent daisies to strengthen my immune system so I’d be ready to smooch with him when he came to visit the next weekend. That might not have been the exact words on the card, but you get the idea. In fact, here is a picture of them a full week later, still ravishing to the eye and supple to the touch.

des fleurs from mon garcon

des fleurs from mon garcon

But even more excitement du jour was before me.  After a sniffling and (daisy-induced) smiling afternoon at work, I did the various other things that I do on Tuesdays that aren’t exciting enough to make the soleilsphere.

And then devastation struck. A tweet from Swiperboy announced to the world (twitter is everyone’s main news source, not just me, right?) that the artist formerly known as Coach Kiffin was fleeing to the land of birkenstocks and botox.  After a brief time of prayer and reflection, some of the fellows and I learned (also through twitter, of course) that there were riots on campus in protest. Well, of course a riot is no place for a girl like me to be seen, so how could I resist?

In truth, the riot was really more like a pep rally with a couple of burning mattresses. There were some not-so-nice chants about Kiffy, but most of the people were just there to sing Rocky Top and flirt with UT basketball players. I did both. It was almost a reunion of sorts. I saw folks I hadn’t seen with high school, friends from church, and a drunken man whose ten-year-old daughter was trying to convince him to leave.

That night, as I drifted off to sleep, I thanked God for reminding me that life in Knoxville can in fact be blogworthy. Sometimes boys do sweet things for you, and you can brag about them online.  Sometimes college students light things on fire and bring a whole community together. Sometimes it is not as much about having something to talk about as it is about performing beautiful sign language for the blind.


Kiffin updates: it is coming out that the KPD let him out of a couple of DUIs this year. He keeps getting classier.  Also, Swiperboy penned what is sure to be on the whole nation’s valentine’s day mix cds this February:

I have begun to pen my own tune about the recent transitions in Volunteer Athletics. It’s set to the tune of  “Do Lord.” This is as far as I’ve gotten:

Dooley, Oh Dooley,

Oh do you wanna coach UT?

Please feel free to finish the stanza.

Things that I need: photos of your banging bangs.

Think of a third: DayQuil, Mattresses …


Your Fannie


~ by soleilsphere on January 20, 2010.

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