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  • The Troubadour
    [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
    Message 1 of 1 , Jun 22 1:11 PM
      [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.


      "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:


      Also here:

      [and thanks to UltraJohn Price--himself "an excitable boy"--for supplying
      this in place of that former long and always-broken hyperlink].

      My mark:

      Rich Limacher
      ("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.
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