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Last night I ran into Quaritch at a meeting of people who do young adult ministry in the Archdiocese of Cincinnati.  I know him a little, mostly through my sister Sae.  He came to our Midsummer’s Party last year, and looked very dashingly Kit Marlowe-ish in a green velvet doublet.  Anyway, we were talking, and I found out that he’s been swing dancing since 1998.  We did a little Lindy on the sidewalk, which was fun, but hard on my socks.  Then I found out that he sells rare & out of print books for a living. (Quaritch: “What, did you think I was some kind of corporate gerbil?” Me: “Hey!  Gerbil is a highly honorable profession!”)  Then I told him the bad joke from the beginning of our movie.  (Where is Engagement, OH?  Halfway between Dayton and Marion.)  He burst out laughing, utterly delighted.  This is perhaps the best reaction I’ve ever gotten to that joke.  (Spain didn’t realize that it was even a joke until two weeks after the premiere.)  Then he persuaded me to go swing dancing with him after the meeting.  Then the whole time we were swing dancing he talked to me about other girls.  Then I decided that there is no such thing as the perfect man.  Sigh.  Oh well.

In other news, yesterday Prof. Txiki sang, “A spoonful of Bible helps the philosophy go down…” in order to illustrate the conventional stereotype of typical Catholic theology.  It was pretty cool, but doesn’t make up for the way he keeps misquoting William Blake’s poem Tyger, Tyger.  The line is “what immortal hand or eye” not “what mere mortal hand or eye.”  And no, I’m not smug about catching that.

Today Fantine is getting married.  I wish so much that I were there.  Fantine, dearest, today I’m offering everything up for you.  Because I love you.

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