Just when I thought my boss and I were going to have to have a “talk” he walks by me the next day while I’m washing dishes and says “all that water running made me have to go tinkle” and then minutes later when we are getting ready to have a conference call with our other office, hands me a big fat chocolate chip cookie and says “I bought you this cause you look like you needed it today”.
One October 23, 2007
On Sunday I drove by a woman standing on the corner of the street holding a sign that said “Marriage. One Man. One Woman” She stood there by herself, surprisingly well dressed in a pant suit and gold jewelry. Probably fresh out of church. She seemed like she should have been smart, educated, anything other than one woman, dressed nicely, standing alone displaying her opinion to all who looked right.
I wanted to role down my window and yell “Marriage. one man. one woman. one asshole standing alone on the side of the road”
To the girl…. October 16, 2007
To the girl sitting behind me to my right at the Regina Spektor show last night…Though your voice is passable, perhaps even pretty if not compared to that of Regina Spektor, HOWEVER, we did not drive to Boston on a Sunday night to listen to you sing along with every single goddamn song. So kindly, next time you are at a concert, keep you mouth shut! You ain’t THAT good.
Not my baby… October 8, 2007
I say this a lot “Not my baby”. I also say this a lot “Ever since I had Miss S….”.
Ever since I had Miss S anything that has to do with children dying sends me immeadiately into a fit of tears. D has appeared to have developed a sixth sense to this because twice this weekend as I was watching the news he started shaking is his hand at me while chanting “Give me the clicker…Give me the clicker….GIVE ME THE CLICKER….” And with the intensity of his final “give me the clicker” I realize that they are just about to launch into a story on the news about children having cancer…or flashing back to those children that were killed in that Amish School. I now know to hand over that remote the first time he asks for it.
It’s starting to move past just children dying now, this tendency for tears. Tonight I cried at a movie where a twenty something year old died, and if you know me you know I cry at everything, but this was a different kind of crying because it wasn’t just any twenty something, it was somebody’s son. And sure enough the movie flashes to the mother learning of her son’s death and I for a second, because that is all I can allow myself to contemplate this kind of thing without completely losing my mind, imagine what it might be like to lose my own child. And that’s when I turn to D and say “Not my baby”….”No” he always says back while reaching across the couch to rub my leg.
