It’s official. Today I have lived an entire quarter of a century.

Everyone; say happy birthday to Jeremy.

“All those protein-head scientists are wrong, he thought. Time isn’t a circle or a straight line. It’s a smell bottle. You catch a whiff here, a whiff there …” - Fool’s Run by Patricia A. McKillip.

She may just be right. I’ve found myself completely transported, fully immersed in a memory just by the wafting scent of an open icebox in an antique store. A smell and the powerful way it brings back something so deeply tucked away in the recesses of the mind can be absolutely eerie. And people say time travel is impossible. Who’s to say that for a fraction of a second you aren’t just remembering something … but actually physically there once again? It makes me think that they should have really incorporated the sense of smell in the film Somewhere in Time.

For our three year anniversary, Paul bought me a whole lotta prismacolors. I promised him I would begin drawing again and would use the pencils, yet inspiration totally escapes me. So there the prismacolors sit, looking forlorn and forgotten next to my sad and unused sketchpad. And strangely, what I really want to do is make shrinky dink magnets.

If I were adventurous and willing to brave downtown traffic on a Wednesday night, I would try to be one of the first five thousand fans at the Stars hockey game tonight. I would be given a Mike Modano nesting doll. How insane is that?