I appear to be drowning in my own phlegm. Not a pretty picture, I know. But I do love the word: phlegm. There�s a magic to it. It reminds me of that period of childhood, oh, maybe between the ages of eight and nine, when my sister and I could just look at each other and say the word mucous and, for some reason, it broke us up. After awhile, we didn�t have to say it. We just gave each other the mucous look and lost our minds. Once, my third grade teacher casually used the word in class, and it sent me into such an uncontrollable fit of the giggles that she carried on like I was having a convulsion. Mucuos. Phlegm.
What the hell was I talking about, anyway?
Nothing yet, I guess. I�ve given some further thought to the teenagers-having-group-sex issue, and really, it�s the group part and not knowing who you�re even doing it with that gets me. It�s not the teenagers having sex part. As for that, I�d never given it much thought beyond myself and any choices I�d made for me, but then once, at a school dance here, I was listening to my all-time favorite school-dance song, "Paradise By the Dashboard Light", and for the first time, I really listened when these words went by:
"Ain�t no doubt about it, we were doubly blessed.
�Cause we were barely seventeen, and we were barely dressed."
Something clicked in my head, and after that, teen sex was just never an issue for me. They just need to know what they�re doing, and that it�s okay for them. Then, hey, go ahead, who am I to stop anyone? Really, it�s the other stuff. (Even though I do believe that so much of this freedom - if that�s what it is - is a way for guys to get girls to think it�s all okay. I think it was that in the late 60s free love days, too. This sort of thing is always way better for guys than girls, but the guys need the girls to do it with. This has been an editorial comment.)
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I�m hacking up a lung every now and then, and the painless (but not silent) throbbing in my ear is making me a little buggy. The throbbing is usually a sign of impending sinus and/or ear infection. All of this started with the weather or the plants or the something or other in the Virginia air, and now it�s progressed to this. I can�t even stay home a day between now and next Friday, when the school year ends. Too much going on, and Colleague is out on vacation days till the middle of next week.
And now, for something completely different (sorry, golfwidow), a word about blinkies. I�ve already established that I can�t make a banner worth a damn, so I�ve decided to try my hand at blinkies. I�ve got an idea, sort of; it�s the diary entry I wrote by hand on the bus last Wednesday, but I�d like to have a button or a blinkie on the page, and damn if it doesn�t look like it�s gonna take me a year and a day to put one together. If anybody knows a Blinkies for Morons site, just send it my way.
K had yet to find a job for the summer, so last night I made her a list of house-cleaning tasks and said I�d pay her to do them. Hell, I�d pay a stranger to do them if I didn�t think s/he might lose my cats in the process. I wonder what I�ll find when I get home. (Oops. Yes, it�s true. I�m writing this entry at work. Don�t tell anyone. I�ll post it when I get home though, because...)
Here�s a cute story. We live on a long straight street, with an elementary school at one end and a town park at the other. Yesterday, as R got out of her car in the driveway and headed toward the door, there was a class of kindergarteners walking down the street with their teacher to the park. As they passed our house, they called out with great excitement, "Look, there�s the white cat!"
Boo, who lives most of the day in the front window, has, it seems, achieved local celebrity status.
P.S. I'm home. She cleaned. Really. Cool.
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I'm watching Dr. Phil
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Sweet Sorrow - 06.12.2007
So ... - 12.19.2006
Christmastime Is Near - 12.18.2006
Fifteen Years - 12.17.2006
A Message From Our Sponsor - 12.16.2006
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