Red to Wed

While I am well aware that most of the readership of this blog (both of you — hiya, AS!) are anxiously awaiting my seriously tardy prediction for the 2009 Penn State football season, I take great delight in reporting a more imminent and more important non-football event: the betrothal of The Nittany Turkey’s literary sidekick, The Redhead.

Red hasn’t written much for TNT in recent history, as she has discovered the wonderful world of distance running. It seems that once one tosses his or her hat in that ring of fanatical, endorphin buoyed buyers of $200 running shoes created by $1.29 worth of Southeast Asian labor and materials, one exits the sport only via injury, death, or too much of a reputedly healthy lifestyle taking over one’s life. It doesn’t leave much time for secondary pursuits, such as writing rants for a blog with an aggregate readership of two. But I digress. To paraphrase Mark Antony, I come to marry off Redhead; not to praise her.

Those of you who are viewing this blog post through Facebook (which has expanded my readership by yet another two people since I started feeding it there) already know that Red is getting married. That portion of her life not occupied by running, reading, or watching movies is generally spent on Facebook talking about running, reading, or watching movies, or taking quizzes about what kind of running shoe she is (an Asics Gel Kinsei) or what her favored sex position is (the running meerkat). This foul old Fowl is giving her a hard time here because he likes her and because he likes the mate she chose long ago, and who recently asked her to marry him at a water stop while both were engaging in some kind of running event, albeit separate ones. That would be The MathGuy, and this Turkey fully approves of their pending union.

MathGuy has been a good and faithful friend for decades. Although retired, his research interests and, of course, his running keep him occupied. He’s in great shape and he looks about 20 years younger than his true age, which will not be divulged here. (He does, however, vividly remember the 1941 World Series.) His son and daughter are interesting people, both with robust resumes, and he is the grandpa of a lovely, well traveled granddaughter. The Redhead and MathGuy are themselves adoptive parents of two or three rescued greyhounds (number presently uncertain as I don’t know whether the recent foster child worked out).

I’ve known The Redhead for eight or nine years now. We, of radically differing political spheres, have had our share of disagreements. Sometimes I’ll go out of my way to get under her skin. As I have stated heretofore, I only do that because I like her. And right here, right now, I will make a pledge: I will henceforth cease and desist from trying to rope her into political arguments — at least for the duration of the wedding ceremony and the following reception. Tomorrow is another day.

I believe that The Redhead and The MathGuy will enjoy great happiness together — in fact, I insist upon it. This Turkey wishes them all the best of connubial bliss for a long, long time.