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I’m starting to feel the urge to wear flouncy blouses and carry a sword

As much as I love winter — and that’s a hell of a lot, for a long time I wanted nothing more than to move to Antarctica and live there year ’round — I must admit that summer made a close second in my affections today. ’round — I must admit that summer made a close second in my affections today.

I haven’t been for a walk for an absurdly long time, because of my foot troubles and this long metamorphosis into the Pirate inside me that’s screaming (aye me-heartying?) to get out, and today I felt like singing and dancing the minute I walked out the door. Bright blue sky, slight breeze, warm sun…for a moment I thought that the government had finally figured out how to control the weather.

I don’t mind the peg-leg, not really. I figure I’m already prepared to be a good (hypothetical) grandmother, when it’s stormy out I can wince and say, “Oh, goodness, this old foot, it aches when it rains…”

Now that I’ve convinced myself that I have an Undo option when it comes to life (”Pasta all over the floor? No problem. Now if I could just find a way to press control-z…”) I seem to be under the impression that I’ve turned into a car as well. Today when I arrived at the first intersection on my walk I reached over for my gearshift in order to downshift into second gear. At least it’s this way and not vice versa — the last thing the world needs is someone driving a car who thinks they’re walking and can choose to Undo anything that happens.

In case anyone’s not quite clear yet on what a Paul is, the following quote from an email message Damon wrote should be adequate explanation:

I used to watch Mr. Rogers all time time. Every day. Back when I was much smaller :) anyway, one day as the show ended and Mr. Rogers left out his door, I called out tv-wards, “Wait! Mr. Rogers, wait!” but he left anyway. My mother heard and asked what I’d wanted to say. “I just wanted to tell him I love him!”

After reading the journal entry about women’s land and how I wished that Todd and I could go there together, Kitey wrote a not-scary-or-mad-at-all letter that was extremely helpful in changing my own thinking about quite a few different concepts. When we had the original crab at each other about the visit I flung my arms around in the air and burst into tears and declared that I’d never, ever go back there for as long as I lived. I don’t feel that way anymore; in fact, I haven’t felt that way since the day after that crab, but haven’t said anything for fear of looking like a fool who doesn’t keep her word.

I like ultimatums. They appeal to my sense of planning and routine. Tee hee.

My favorite line in the letter is this one:

Because I have been asked more than once to explain “what it’s about” (rather than because I think you’re dense*) [and then the footnote at the bottom of the page reads] *Let me know how this worked as an attempt to head off mother/daughter misinterpretation grongle

It worked beautifully, of course. For all she says about not knowing me as well as she’d like to and vice versa she knows (how to talk to, anyway) me better than most anyone in my life has except for Todd. I was waiting on writing back because I need a new printer ribbon, and she called a few nights ago to say she’d be house-sitting for a couple who wouldn’t mind at all if Todd and I stayed there too and did we want to come to stay for awhile, and I had to say no because Todd has to ask way in advance for vacation time and money and all that. Which was hard to do; I hate to disappoint people. Many years ago my father was standing in the front door of Patricia’s house and said, excitedly, “Look! There are bunny rabbits outside!” and Spring gave him that withering glance that only stepchildren can do really well and said, “Yeah, we KNOW, they’ve been living there for years.” And his face fell and he said, “Oh.” and even though I’m quite sure that he doesn’t even remember it happening I still wince whenever I think of it.

© 1997 QN Podcast (formerly Quirky Nomads).