[Welcome to Joy & Happiness Positivity Wednesday, everybud! Today's
subject--despite my "veiled threat" of "can't wait until Friday"--is a
no-brainer. The late Miss Susan P. Troelstrup has transmogrified her own
exceptional self into the all-new Mrs. G. Dunmore--"Geof" Dunmore,
apparently, and NOT even a Geoffrey or Jeffrey or any other kind of "-frey."
No, today belongs to S. Paige Dunmore and--hey, for my money?--deze two
dizzy peeps DESERVE EACH OTHER! ;-). Check out her hubby's own blog...
...because HE DOESN'T SAY ANYTHING ABOUT ANY WEDDING (or even honeymoon)
EITHER!! Here's what he posts in his latest blog entry for June 7th,
apparently only about this year's Ice Age Trail events: "Congrats to my
(now) wife on her awesome race!"
( -_- ).
Wow. And to think in my day, weddings and honeymoons actually trumped
footraces better than Pontiac GTOs wiped out Mustangs. Long before "blogs,"
we had stationery and post cards--the former for bragging to all our friends
with (and to subtly solicit cash and gifts out of) and the latter for
sending out from our honeymoon. No buddy and no bunny EVER entered
footraces during honeymoons, nor would they even consider writing/phoning/or
talking about the damn race afterwards instead of "the juicy details." Just
Here, BTW, once again is most everything y'all need to know about The Bride,
who's today's TMIWITW:
She isn't so much "blonde" as "self-illuminating sunlight." In recent years
along the coast of Maine during power outages, for example, she has
volunteered to stand atop shoreline cliffs and serve as a beacon for ships
out at sea.
And just as she herself radiates, her hair, too, shines in the dark.
Her visits to beauty salons are always free. Her stylists can always make
the following year's rent by exporting her shorn locks as platinum palace
thatch to the tribal princes of West Africa.
She first burst upon the ultramarathon scene just a few short years ago, and
the whole world of distance running hasn't been the same since.
Her own running prowess is nothing to scoff at. Most recently she ran a
full 26.2 miles in a Boston Marathon qualifying time. Before that she ran a
100-miler in a Western States Endurance Run qualifying time. Next she plans
to run across the entire United States in time that will qualify her for The
Galaxy Trillion-Miler, which has a date yet to be determined.
She has been known to ignite whole new threads of excitable commentary
simply by posting a single word to a chatroom or listserv.
Her continuous enthusiasm for life and sport is so contagious that high
school cheerleaders who never heard of her have adopted her routines,
despite the fact that she actually has no routines.
Her attractiveness and marketing potential spans the globe, as well as
several other intergalactic globes and their moons, although she is much too
modest to shoot her own.
Representatives of various fashion and sportswear manufacturers often line
up along the street outside her apartment building to offer exclusive
modeling contracts. Most recently, however, they have all been
disappointed--because she no longer lives there.
She currently resides on Cloud 9--along with some Geof, who himself has only
recently moved out of the Fog.
Not much for self-aggrandizement, she kept her own wedding a closely guarded
secret. Even her husband only found out afterwards.
She is THE MOST INTERESTING WOMAN IN THE WORLD.
"I don't always elope to honeymoon in Hawaii; but when I do, I
prefer--except for one other person--to do it alone. Stay excited, my
( 00 )
See (and hear) some originals:
[and thanks to UltraJohn Price--himself "an excitable boy"--for supplying
this in place of that former long and always-broken hyperlink].
("your faithless old French lute-plucking song-and-dance man who spent his
honeymoon on a couple of knights during the Crusades")
Yankee Folly of the Day:
"Spending a honeymoon on a couple of knights." What a joke. They didn't
even appreciate it. Just like their rusty, non-shining counterparts in
today's U.S. Congress, they preferred visual images to the music of lutes,
and lovely young Pages to their pluckers.