When pigs fly…

Last Wednesday was David’s and my 8-month dating anniversary.

That’s fine, I can hear the mocking laughter of you married people out there. “8 months dating! How cute! 8 months is a cake walk! A cake walk with kittens and puppies and pony rides!” I imagine you going on and on, in that incredibly smug and smarmy way you married people do sometimes, when you talk to us un-married people. “Anybody can make it 8 months,” you say. “Try (insert-the-length-of-your-marriage-here) years!”

Well, congratulations. I’m sure my gift was simply lost in the mail and should arrive any day.

So if you’re done now, can we can move along and talk about me and how freakin’ excited I was about our anniversary (okay, whatev) monthiversary? I can’t remember when I last dated anyone for that long, much less, the last time I’ve been as incredibly happy as I’ve been during this 8 months with David.

So yes, 8 months IS a big deal.

Unfortunately, the actual day of our monthiversary David ended up working late to wrap up some post-production, and we weren’t able to spend any time together. I didn’t get to see him until after work on Friday, when I came to his house and he promptly went to great (and suspicious) lengths to lure me to the front porch. I know, skepticism is unattractive and I should be more trusting. I’ll add that to the list of things I need to work on.

Garibaldi, the Flying Pig

And there, on the doorstep, was a Flying Pig!

He bought me a Flying Pig for our monthiversary! The most beautiful Flying Pig, which I immediately named Garibaldi.

This, of course, is the best monthiversary present. Ever. In the whole history of monthiversaries even. Because, if you know me, as David so obviously does, you are aware that:

a) a red metal Flying Pig named Garibaldi simply RADIATES delightfully quirky cuteness, much as I like to think radiates from myself on better days, so is therefore totally ME

b) I have a huge writer crush on the Bloggess, Jenny Lawson, who recently wrote in one of the best blog posts in the whole history of blog posts even, of purchasing a 5-foot metal chicken named Beyoncé as an (ahem) anniversary present for her husband, Victor;


had you spent 5-7 days a week with me every week since I read that blog (as poor David has) you would be clearly and painfully aware (as it would have been brought up at EVERY AVAILABLE opportunity) that the appropriate anniversary gift for “15 YEARS IS BIG METAL CHICKENS“…

…so then logically the best gift for someone to get their farm-animal-art obsessed girlfriend to celebrate 8 months together could be…

aluminum aerial swine!


I know! He’s so awesome! But no, you can’t have him. He’s mine.

Er…ah…Garibaldi, that is.

Kidding! I mean David.

AND Garibaldi.


Both mine. All mine.


A good friend of mine recently posted on Facebook that he was “over it all” and closing his account.

Maybe he was overwhelmed by people sending him Alien Cows from Farmville or wanting him to send them a submachine gun in Mafia Wars.  Maybe he was weary of friend requests from people from high school he wasn’t cool enough to be friends with then and is way too cool to be friends with now. Maybe he truly feels that Facebook is a kitschy, vainglorious and shallow replacement for actual telephone calls, emails and visits.

While I can appreciate the viewpoint that social media isolates us from real human interaction, there’s something very special to me the way Facebook allows us to step, gently and momentarily, into the life of someone we care about.  Someone who may be far away in both miles and years, just to share a memory, congratulate  an achievement, send an e-hug, make a snide remark, whatever.  For that second, in the ether, you are there with them.  And  they are right there with you.

We lead busy lives and unfortunately it’s far too easy to let people slip through the cracks.  Facebook and Twitter, while not the same as dinner and drinks, or voice-to-voice via Ma Skype, at least lets us stay connected and aware of each other.  Ten minutes a day on “Facecrack” and I’ve “liked” my sorority sister’s new puppy, “Woot!”ed my friend on her new car, sent a message of support to a colleague who lost a friend to cancer, and “found” a friend from college I’ve always wondered what happened to.  Maybe it is socialization for a new age, but the  interactions are real, as is the satisfaction and happiness I take from the exchange.

My friend decided not to close his Facebook account, btw. Moments after his declaration, he was inundated by posts of love and support.  He realized, I think, he was not only cutting off that easy access into the lives of his friends, but our access to his.

I love Facebook.  It’s reunited me with the people from my past who have shaped the person I am today.  Seeing them again, and sharing in their daily lives and accomplishments, even if only electronically, reminds me of the great times we’ve had and gives me courage for the future, knowing that I’m not alone, and a lifetime’s worth of people who love and believe in me is just an IM away.

I’ll take that in a heartbeat, even if it comes with an Alien Cow.