15 May 2003

For some reason I get spammed daily by a porn website. Something about farm animals and farmer girls. I can't help but think it came from my blog or my email address. Well, in case anyone there was confused, Lucky Ram is not some bighorn sheep, he's a human man, and we have a human child, Lucky Little Lamb. Their nicknames have nothing to do with an unnatural affection for farm animals. It all began at Ram and my first Christmas together as a couple. We were walking in the woods making up alternative lyrics to Christmas songs. I was singing "The Little Drummer Boy", and when I got to the part about the little lamb, Ram stopped me and said, "I always thought they were saying something about a lucky little lamb." Well, we are easily amused, and found this quite humorous--for a really long time. Lucky Lamb seemed apropro in many aspects of our lives. We both have curly hair (we're "lamby", a phrase coined by another friend of mine). There's a religious connotation, Christ being a shepherd, the is Christian a lucky lamb. And then there's my whole inner conflict with eating meat. Lucky is the lamb who does not wind up on my plate, and I thank the lamb who does. Then there's the whole knitting, spinning, etc. connotation. I sold some knitted tams under the name Lucky Lamb. See? Totally innocent. So when I started this blog, I decided to make up silly nicknames for us. Lucky Ram--you know, he's a guy. Lucky Little Lamb is our little kid--oops, I mean lamb. Parthenia is not a sheep, and I'm not much of a shepherdess, but I just really dig the name. Lucky Ewe just sounded corny.

Anyway, my exam is tomorrow, and tomorrow night I have to hand in my Sociology paper which I will write tomorrow. Then I'm done for the summer, and can start making stuff.

Ram shaved his beard into a lamb chop-like design (another one!). I hate it. He looks like Duane Allman or someone from Lynard Skynard or Foghat. I like the Allman Brothers, but I certainly don't want one in my bed. He looks like a Confederate flag waving redneck, and it gives my flashbacks to some of the shadier folks I knew in Memphis. And Yankee that he is, I don't think he understands why I his facial hair deeply disturbs me. To top it off, for some reason he's taken to wearing one of my snoods, but he tends to push his hair all up to the front so it looks like he's wearing an Andy Capp hat. My otherwise handsome, fine, sexy husband looks like a weird freak. I want my hippie husband back, with his medieval hair and viking beard!

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