Thirty years ago today I got married. I wonder if things would have turned out differently had we picked a more auspicious date than April Fool’s Day.
Yesterday I painted a little picture for my sister. It’s of a sad guinea pig. I love guinea pig lips. So does my sister.
Why is this pig sad? I don’t know. It’s just how it fell off my brush. Maybe it wishes it were a wrinkle-lipped bat. Possibly it doesn’t like what’s happening to Tibetan protesters and is bemused at the Chinese government’s accusation that the Dalai Lama is a “terrorist,” or grieving because the US death toll in Iraq has risen above 4000 and who knows how many Iraqis are dead. Maybe it wonders why we care that Elliot Spitzer kept his socks on. It could be discouraged that it’s odd-looking, that it hasn’t met a young fella with an accent, that it can’t speak Spanish, that it isn’t svelte even though it runs on its wheel all the time, that it can no longer point its toes properly when Irish dancing… Who can know what goes on inside the mind of a guinea pig?
But let’s talk about me: here’s a picture of a recent conference call I had with Noah and Stephen. Isn’t technology amazing? (Except the system crashed shortly after I snapped this photo.)
Mamma Ginna called me from West Virginia yesterday. She’s 94 now. She sounded very weak.
I’m hangin’ on, slowly, but I don’t know for how long — none of us know for how long — but I know mine can’t be too much longer. So I wanted to call you and tell you how I appreciate you thinking about me so often and so much. So I’m not gonna say ‘goodbye.’ I’m gonna say ’so long, we’ll talk to you later.’
Here’s a story Mamma Ginna told me last year, about Molly and the caterpillar:
Remember a few days ago I told you I might get to see a silky anteater in Costa Rica?
Well, my new friend Oleg, a very funny person who can’t be older than about 15 (though he already has a girlfriend), has just composed an anteater ode that is truly magnificent. While indisputably a poem — that dreaded literary form that brings sweat to my furrowed brow — it is a good one. He even managed to fit an agouti in there. I highly recommend you read it. When I did, a rare thing happened: I laughed out loud. I don’t have a picture of Oleg to show you, but this is my great-nephew who looks similar.
Oh, wait: here’s one he just sent.
Anyway, speaking of agoutis, at a recent party someone overheard me talking about wanting to bring one back from Costa Rica. She whispered disapprovingly to the woman next to her, “She can’t do that! Doesn’t she know that’s illegal?
I just looked at my plane reservations and realized I’m leaving a day sooner than I thought. I’m also leaving from a different airport.
In my rising hysteria at trying to get everything done before I leave, I’m having trouble prioritizing: spend time with Lulu since I won’t see her for six weeks, or meet work deadlines? Tough either/or choices. Exercise, or eat? Pay bills, or go buy groceries? Start to get ready for my trip, or update the Blind Pig Drawings section of this blog to include 85 more illustrations? See my best friends before I leave, or go to SF to get my hair dyed?
I’m curious to see how the next week unfolds. Tomorrow I have to produce a little multimedia presentation and clean my house in preparation for my six overnight guests from Ireland who arrive Saturday while I’m at my dear friend Anna’s 60th birthday party. While the Irish contingent is getting ready to leave on Sunday, Lulu’s friend Esmeralda will move into my house, which requires my rearrangement of furniture and suchlike, while Lulu packs to go back to school, after which I throw the dog and the daughter into the car and drive a couple hours to deposit daughter at college and dog at my friends’ house, where I’ll spend the night and leave early the next morning to get back in time for a technical meeting for a Web project I’m managing, and then…
I’m going to bed.
Look what Stella found last night.
It was lying there flattened and motionless save for its head, as though it had fallen out of that tree there. In the middle of the night I heard a raccoon-fight and this morning our friend was gone.
