Awkward Fan Girl Alert!

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I have a crush.

Ok, to be fair, I have the biggest crush of all on my husband. He makes my tummy go all googley.

But I also have another, less powerful, crush.

A crush that I’ve been open and honest about with my spouse. He is ok with it. Or, while maybe not ok with it, tolerates my geek girl crush because that’s just the sort of kind and understanding way he has with me.

You see, my crush is not about the usual sort of person you’d think.

No Robert Pattinson nor Johnny Depp. Nope.

Not even someone who you might call a celebrity. But someone who is a known figure…at least in the UK and to watchers of the BBC.

Oh, ok, I’ll be out with it.

I have a crush on Mike Embley, lead presenter on BBC World News.

In my post-cable rabbit-ears-and-a-digital-box joy, I’ve discovered the very serious yet truly wonderful BBC World News show.

It’s informative and not inflammatory. It’s not televised drama, it’s actual news from around the world. I’ve learned a LOT from this show and I chalk much of that up to Mr. Embley who presents the news in a professional and calm manner with a slight tinge of a sense of humor burbling just below the surface.

Plus, he cuts a stunning figure in a pink shirt and tie with a dark grey suit.

Truth be told, I find him rather irresistible. Brains and humor reel me in every time (just ask The Good Man who has both in spades, and might I mention, cuts a rather fabulous visage in a suit, himself).

Anyhow, yesterday, I was taking in the world news from the pleasing voice of Mr. Embley, and at the end of the show, he said, “You can follow me on Twitter at @bbcmikeembley.”

Well that was that.

I looked him up and began following him straight away.

In reading his Tweet stream, I saw that he seems to be rather responsive to his followers. In many cases, he thanked people for the follow and answered their questions.

So…I took a chance.

Here’s the transcript:

From me:

karenfayeth @bbcmikeembley I’m pleased to find you on Twitter. I very much enjoy your BBC World News broadcasts!!

A couple hours later came the reply:

bbcmikeembley @karenfayeth Happy to be Twting. Don’t as much as I’d like but that mostly cos busy with the brdcasting. Or kids. Or dog. Or v bad guitar.

Oh swoon!

I appreciate he left out vowels to get to an economy of characters, and still managed to be very well spoken.

I am simply all a flutter to receive a reply!

When I showed it to my husband, he replied, “Oh my, you’re a news fan geek. Who would have thought?”

He says this because I’m pretty steadfast in that I don’t watch the news.

I really, really don’t watch American broadcast news. It sets my teeth on edge.

Nope, no news…

But for one show. The one presented by my new Twitter friend…Mr. Embley.

: geek out!!! :

Just Another Marble in the Brain Jar

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Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about the nature of memory.

Mainly, because my own memory sucks.

What was I saying?

Oh yes.

Some of this memory loss is, I think, is a hazard of having put in a few years on this ol’ planet. Over time, one tends to collect a few things in the closets like bottle tops, tattered paperback books, and stacks of memories, both good and bad.

I sometimes think of my brain as a big storage device. Lots and lots of space. Too many bits of memory get shoved in there, and it’s time for an upgrade.

But maybe that’s a little too Silicon Valley for my tastes.

Let’s try another metaphor.

Maybe my brain is more like a big glass jar filled with marbles. Some are large, some small, some are in between. So as I go about living this crazy mixed up life, these marbles roll their way toward the jar and drop in. These new residents tend to push out the old when I’ve run out of space.

There is only so much room in the jar, of course, and once filled to capacity, something’s gotta give.

As I was getting my hair cut last night, I spent the color “cook time” working over this particular visual metaphor. Unfortunately, I was thinking about it while also pouring over the pages of the current “People” magazine.

Without my consent, some fresh, small marbles found their way into my jar.

For example, I don’t really need to know that one of the Jonas brothers broke up with his girlfriend. *plink*

Or that Jon and Kate plus 8 lady just celebrated the birthday of her sextuplets. *plink*

That some blonde chick named Heidi needs “time alone” from her overbearing husband. *plink*

And that weird Svengali-like husband of that sad, tiny, actress that recently died has now also shuffled off this mortal coil. *plink*

These are not vital memories. These don’t need to be kept in the jar. If they do manage to stay in the jar, then other, better, memories have to slip out.

Oops, there goes making Thanksgiving turkey drawings by tracing my hand onto the paper.

And there goes the name of my childhood friend who lived by the park, across from the swimming pool. We took gymnastics class together at the YMCA. What *was* her name?

Don’t tell me a Jonas brother shoved my friend out of the brain jar!

I suppose the trick is to let those lightweight worthless marbles flow in for a moment and then find a way to shove them right back out.

If I get too many of the trivial marbles, there’s no room left for the big meaningful marbles to find a permanent home.

Of course, some of those big marbles are so heavy, they can’t possibly be washed out. My wedding day. Holding my oldest goddaughter for the first time (I cried). Cracking jokes with my pops while he was in the hospital.

The big ones stick around, no matter. The middlin’ sized tend to go all floaty without my permission. They are the hardest to hold onto.

But I try. Oh I try.

Let’s just hope that at the very least, I can manage to hang on to most of my important marbles.

Because I surely would hate to, you know…lose my marbles.

Photo from the KM&G-Morris public Flickr photostream.

Geez, I’ve been doin’ it wrong all this time

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(via Reuters) “The average Briton turns up to work with a hangover three times a month…”

and

“…each day more than 520,000 people in Britain go to work hung over”

AND they get all the bank holidays AND they get five weeks or more vacation.

Damn.

On the downside: “…nearly one in five of those admitting that as a result they make mistakes and struggle to keep on top of their workload.”

Hmm. Everything’s a tradeoff, I suppose.

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