Jenny the Bloggess is hilarious and probably totally ridiculously gorgeous in real life, so my plan is sweep her off her feet with love comments and convince her to marry me.

I made my first attempt last Thursday when she posted a transcribed conversation in which her husband called her the world's greatest grampa (with an m) and refused to buy her a new curly straw...

Please dump Victor and marry me. I'll give you hats and straws and burritos AND zebra stripe gum. If you're not sick of zebra stripe gum, of course, which I guess you would be if you smell it all day long. But that would imply that you smell your feet all day long, which I don't mean to imply, because I'm pretty sure you'd never do anything weird like that. Though it isn't weird if you do it, because I can imagine that if my feet smelled as good as yours, I might strategically slip out of my shoes and let the zebra smells waft more often. But I wouldn't really know how these things work because my feet smell like feet (I think), and I don't even know what zebra stripe gum is. Which I should never have admitted because if my friend Danny is right that he'll never marry a girl that's never heard of A Tribe Called Quest, then there's no way you'll marry a guy that's never heard of what's probably the best gum ever invented. Man. Bummer. Tell Victor he wins for today. But I'll try again…

No response.  Yet.  Which is ok.  I don't expect one.  Yet. 

I will continue commenting.  And hoping and dreaming.

Her most recent post is about ground squirrels and spelling mistakes, however.  Not the most romantic subject.  Which makes it tough to comment effectively. Which is a worry.  But I realize that these things take patience.  So I'm going to go to sleep and think about it and see how I feel in the morning.