Thank you, Sandy, for that title. Thank you, Trish, for that haiku containing both marijuana and tequila. Shocking. Thank you, Kathy W, for reminding me that perky DNAs only die once, while the depressives die continually. I've never minded being a coward. Thank you all, for the welcome back.
Even while I was sucking my thumb this past month, there were moments of joy:
--We went to a Bees game with Neil and Marilyn and I got a free white t-shirt. The t-shirts are shrink wrapped into the size of a soft ball, and enthusiastic Bees' personnel throw them into the crowd. One landed right in my seat next to my left hip.
The trouble is if I could win a t-shirt thrown at me, then I could also be hit in the head by a foul ball past third base. See the problem of probabilities?
--We visited Sam and Sarah in their new mid-century home in Olympus Hills, which is an enviable setting. They have perennial gardens in both back and front yards, a rugged mountain behind them and a wide valley view in front. And a lot of wood paneling in the basement. There's always something. They are painting. We babysit. I impress Elliot by showing him where Thomas S. Monson lives.
--A lunch with Charles where I got to tell him he's a good writer. He wore yellow shoes. He's the kid who wanted bowling shoes for his birthday when he was a teenager. He's always himself. What can be better than that?
--Calls from Pittsburgh Ed, while he's driving home from work. "Are you home yet?" I ask him.
"Yeah," he says. "I've been sitting in the driveway. Dede just texted me that dinner is getting cold."
He lusts after Ke$ha and has bought front row seats to her concert in a couple of months. He will have his picture taken with her and receive a He makes a list of inappropriate things he might say to her. My favorite: "I like glitter too."
--I make the calls on the movies we see with Peggy and Jerry (because I'm Jabba the Hut), and I took a chance and took us all to World War Z. The best thing about it was how loudly and enthusiastically we complained about it at dinner after.
--Tom and I go to see The Lone Ranger, and I clap each time Rossini's William Tell Overture starts up. The Lone Ranger rises up on the white steed, Silver, and cries, "Hi ho, Silver, away!" startling Tonto, who then says, "Don't ever do that again." I'm sorry the movie isn't the success that was hoped for. You might have to be seventy years old or older to enjoy it.
--Dinner with Modlins and Bushmans. We learn where the idea of "a true church" comes from. Gotta love historians.
--Chatty chatty lunch with Peggy and JoAnne. We're all on the same page.
--A perfect breakfast with Ann.