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I've just realized that starting next month I'll have four collabs that I have to write for. Plus I guess I should write for my own. Damn, I wish somebody would pay me to do this stuff - I could make it a full-time job if I tried just a little.
High: I'm kicking some butt at work. I've just had two of the most productive days I've ever had.
Low: Having to be at work when it's 78 degrees and sunny outside.
Enumerating the differences between Plato's and Aristotle's views on Metaphysics. Yeesh.
Someone sent me a list of "George Carlin Imponderables" -
If a pig loses its voice, is it disgruntled?
What hair color do they put on the driver's licenses of bald men?
Last night I played a blank tape at full blast. The mime next door went nuts.
Isn't making a smoking section in a restaurant like making a peeing section in a swimming pool?
OK...so if the Jacksonville Jaguars are known as the "Jags" and the Tampa Bay Buccaneers are known as the "Bucs", what does that make the Tennessee Titans?
If 4 out of 5 people SUFFER from diarrhea... does that mean the fifth one enjoys it?
Well, the hits start coming and they don't stop coming
Head to the rules and ya hit the ground running
Didn't make sense just to live for fun,
You're brain gets smart but your head gets dumb
Smashmouth - "All Star"
I talk about the contents of my purse.
Storyteller
Bio
Dramatis Personnae
Who I Read
Recipes
February 27, 2002
Life is lived in moments.
Last night I was in the kitchen, making dinner in anticipation of Calvin's arrival from work. The phone rang, and I heard Marie, who was in the computer room, answer it. A few moments later she emerged, with a puzzled smile on her face. "Who was that?" I asked. "Dad," she replied, and headed toward the door. "He told me to go out and look at the moon."
I followed her, and we both went to the edge of the driveway. Standing in our stockinged feet, we looked around, maneuvering to see around the corners of houses, until we spotted the moon. The sky was still light, and the full moon hung heavy and low on the horizon. We stood and admired it, bright silver in the purpling sky. We smiled a mutual smile, both of us thinking warmly of Calvin and this sweet habit of his to call our attention to the moon, or the sunset, or the sunrise. Sharing with us a common experience, even if we could not all stand side-by-side at that moment.
A couple of months ago Calvin had to work up north and spend the night in Flagstaff. Marie and I pottered around the house, revolving around one another as I cooked in the kitchen and she IM'ed in the computer room; I folded laundry in the bedroom and she watched TV in the living room. Finally, chores done, I settled in front of the computer in my bedroom to while away the last remaining hour before heading to bed. Music played softly as I perused Morpheus for more songs. Through the open bedroom door, I could hear Marie in the computer room doing the same thing.
Smashmouth's version of "I'm a Believer" started playing on my computer, and I turned it up. I heard Marie's music stop, and she came dancing through my bedroom door, singing along to the music. Snapping her fingers and hopping around, she admired herself in my closet mirror for a time before flopping, out of breath, on my bed. We spent the next hour chatting about everything and nothing, she recommending songs to download and I offering advice on how to deal with a boy situation. Her replies became more and more sleepy until she fell asleep on my bed.
I sat tapping away on my keyboard at work one day last week, when the phone rang. "Hey, what are you doing?" said Michael, calling from North Carolina. "Not much, just working. What's up?" I said. "Nothing," he replied, "just called to talk. I'm homesick for you guys."
Marie came home from school early on Monday, and Monday evening she and I went to the doctor's to get her checked out. Typical of last-minute, last-on-the-list appointments, we ended up spending nearly two hours there. On our way out I noticed that it was nearly 7:00, and wasn't looking forward to getting dinner together when I got home.
Marie and I walked in the door, and we heard Calvin call "Hi, babies!" from the kitchen. We rounded the corner, and there he was putting together his World Famous Hamburgers for dinner. "Oh, great!" I cried. "Well, what did you expect?" he retorted. "If you have to deal with the doctor's office the least I can do is get dinner together." He reached into the refrigerator, grabbed a beer, cracked it open and handed it to me. The three of us took our burgers into the living room to watch Boston Public and Ally McBeal. Calvin and I settled on the couch and Marie moved toward the love seat. Then she paused, looked at us for a moment, then came over and sat between Calvin and I.
We hung out and ate, muting at the commercials to talk about what was going on in the programs. Boston Public was very serious, and we talked about racism and the power of words. Ally McBeal was as foolish as ever - Marie hollered at the TV, "Ugh! Jon Bon Jovi's pretending to date that old lady!" We both yelled, "If we don't stand a chance, she don't stand a chance!" Calvin rolled his eyes at us.
Four years ago, when Calvin and I first started living together, I was cooking dinner and waiting for him to get home from work. I was excited. I was in love. George Michael's "Freedom" was playing loudly on the stereo. I was bouncing around, eyes shut, crazy-dancing and singing into the spoon I was using to stir dinner. I opened my eyes and squeaked - Calvin, his arrival unheard by me, was leaning against the wall, grinning as he watched me. I subsided, embarrassed - he laughed, hugged me, and teased me for my "Ally moment".
That story still comes up in conversation. A lot.