Worst Beatles lyric ever:
When I'm getting home tonight, I'm gonna hold her tight,
I'm gonna love her till the cows come home.
*shake it up baby now doesn't count because it was written by Bert Berns and Phil Medley, who was the brother of our pool guy. Or something.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
...
Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Alaska flight 521 with service to Portland.
The sunshine here in Orange County should give you plenty of chances for nice views as we take off.
Current temperature is sixty degrees.
Unfortunately, in Portland the weather is Portland.
The sunshine here in Orange County should give you plenty of chances for nice views as we take off.
Current temperature is sixty degrees.
Unfortunately, in Portland the weather is Portland.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
post-it
Sitting the other night at my desk [which is to say the tiny living room table where I have my laptop and piles of papers], and Stephen steps past on his way to the kitchen. Just as he does: thkk - a funny, little sound. The quick crisp of a piece of paper hitting the floor. Both Stephen and I look around for what it could be. He finds it first, lying there under the table by the wall, like a spot of light on the floor. A yellow post-it note. It has a cartoon of a dog's face, pointy ears stuck out, big, round eyes and the tongue hanging out the side of the mouth. It says, "Don't forget my pills."
When did I make that little note? We were going out of town, and Frank was coming to walk José, feed him, give him his pills. It's not that I thought Frank would forget anything, but I guess I figured a cartoon the size of a postage stamp would make things certain.
The cartoon was kind of haphazard. Not my best work.
Now, José's gone and Frank's living back in California. The tiny note stayed taped to the door jamb to the kitchen for - what? three years? Sometimes I'd look at it hanging there to my right as I worked on my writing, and wonder how long we'd let things go before we finally removed it. It looked pretty ridiculous, all curled at the edges, stuck there for no reason anymore, but I didn't want to take down that bit of happy history. Figures I'd let time do it for me.
Stephen ducks and reaches first for the post-it note. He leaves the room with it.
Comes back. With a fresh piece of tape.
When did I make that little note? We were going out of town, and Frank was coming to walk José, feed him, give him his pills. It's not that I thought Frank would forget anything, but I guess I figured a cartoon the size of a postage stamp would make things certain.
The cartoon was kind of haphazard. Not my best work.
Now, José's gone and Frank's living back in California. The tiny note stayed taped to the door jamb to the kitchen for - what? three years? Sometimes I'd look at it hanging there to my right as I worked on my writing, and wonder how long we'd let things go before we finally removed it. It looked pretty ridiculous, all curled at the edges, stuck there for no reason anymore, but I didn't want to take down that bit of happy history. Figures I'd let time do it for me.
Stephen ducks and reaches first for the post-it note. He leaves the room with it.
Comes back. With a fresh piece of tape.
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