tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25684961.post115111088649970772..comments2023-10-01T08:07:18.319-04:00Comments on on her toes: The Gift of Lonelinessnadinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10900545208829694500noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25684961.post-1151455770456686492006-06-27T20:49:00.000-04:002006-06-27T20:49:00.000-04:00That's hilarious. Statistics as encouragement.A co...That's hilarious. Statistics as encouragement.<BR/><BR/>A couple years ago, I was hanging out with some relatives:<BR/><BR/>Grandma: I was 21 when I got married.<BR/>Aunt: I, too, was 21 when I got married.<BR/>Cousin: I was 21 too.<BR/><BR/>Everyone looks at me, 21.<BR/><BR/>Me: My mom was 26. Leave me alone.nadinehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10900545208829694500noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25684961.post-1151417468460017822006-06-27T10:11:00.000-04:002006-06-27T10:11:00.000-04:00I got so depressed reading the first paragraph of ...I got so depressed reading the first paragraph of that article, I had to give up. (I will try to finish reading it later.)<BR/><BR/>Recently, a married friend, trying to be supportive I suppose, sent me this <A HREF="http://142.206.72.67/02/02d/02d_001a_e.htm" REL="nofollow">link</A> to a Statistics Canada report on marriage.<BR/><BR/>It's in my bookmarks now, and I go back to read it once in a while. Usually when I'm lonely. It doesn't really give me any hope, but it is somewhat comforting, in a logical/mathematical/statistical/analytical/completely-void-of-emotions type of sort of way.Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13441809988487585009noreply@blogger.com