You and Me, Kid
Every once in a while Sam goes out for the evening with his bestest buddy -- they are faithful consumers of the Pittsburgh jazz industry, and also whatever it is they get fed at whatever club they're in -- and the child and I have what we call "me and you, kid" night. This means that we eat grilled cheese sandwiches and Campbell's soup, and watch even more crap on the TV than usual.
However. We've got a Very Special me and you, kid date coming up -- we are going to the Dar Williams concert weekend after next. Before that, we're going out to eat.
The child (who is 9) hasn't ever been to a concert before, and it'll go on way past his bedtime, but I'm willing to risk having to leave early. And he gets a lot of time with Sam, since Sam's the parent home when the school bus arrives. I don't get as much time alone with him. We're both looking forward to the companionship and the music. His favorite Dar Williams songs are "The Christians and the Pagans," "The One Who Knows," and her new cover of "Everybody Knows This is Nowhere." I love all those, along with "What Do You Love More than Love." And often, I put the iPod onto Dar Williams, and just let it randomly play her songs. Cheers me right up.)
I'm cheerful and happy anyway, though, these days, for no good reason -- maybe it's that the Thanksgiving break is finally on the horizon. The last I heard we have guests coming, the first guests we'll have had to stay at Bear's Retreat. I'm glad for an opportunity to share the house. Though I do note that this requires me to get the boxes out of the living room.
The other house is nearly clear. The 3rd installment of Driveway Full of Crap Being Given to Charity is happening today, and Sam says we've got one more due. (There were also 3, or maybe 4 installments of 30 bags of trash left for the garbage pick-up. To my surprise and delight, the garbage pickup persons have not fire-bombed the house.) Then, onto the real estate market it will go. Life moves on.
Finally, my advice. I have advice. And my advice is, Siamese kittens. Two of them. I don't care what you needed advice about, the answer is Siamese kittens. That's what you need. We've got nothing but joy around here. I find that even in the middle of the night, when I've been awakened by the absolute joy of one of the kittens, at the existence of her and the existence of me, in the same place at the same time, which she has manifested by sounding like a truck and curling herself around my arm and gently biting it, I'm not angry. No, I'm amused. Loving little hilarious gymnasts, that's what we're living with. Lila still hates them, but we think it's mostly stance. She's got no real feeling behind all those hissing fits. And the kittens seem to think she means for them to chase her. What do I know. I don't speak much cat. Maybe that's what she's really saying.
Oh. Siamese kittens. That would explain the reasonless happiness.
However. We've got a Very Special me and you, kid date coming up -- we are going to the Dar Williams concert weekend after next. Before that, we're going out to eat.
The child (who is 9) hasn't ever been to a concert before, and it'll go on way past his bedtime, but I'm willing to risk having to leave early. And he gets a lot of time with Sam, since Sam's the parent home when the school bus arrives. I don't get as much time alone with him. We're both looking forward to the companionship and the music. His favorite Dar Williams songs are "The Christians and the Pagans," "The One Who Knows," and her new cover of "Everybody Knows This is Nowhere." I love all those, along with "What Do You Love More than Love." And often, I put the iPod onto Dar Williams, and just let it randomly play her songs. Cheers me right up.)
I'm cheerful and happy anyway, though, these days, for no good reason -- maybe it's that the Thanksgiving break is finally on the horizon. The last I heard we have guests coming, the first guests we'll have had to stay at Bear's Retreat. I'm glad for an opportunity to share the house. Though I do note that this requires me to get the boxes out of the living room.
The other house is nearly clear. The 3rd installment of Driveway Full of Crap Being Given to Charity is happening today, and Sam says we've got one more due. (There were also 3, or maybe 4 installments of 30 bags of trash left for the garbage pick-up. To my surprise and delight, the garbage pickup persons have not fire-bombed the house.) Then, onto the real estate market it will go. Life moves on.
Finally, my advice. I have advice. And my advice is, Siamese kittens. Two of them. I don't care what you needed advice about, the answer is Siamese kittens. That's what you need. We've got nothing but joy around here. I find that even in the middle of the night, when I've been awakened by the absolute joy of one of the kittens, at the existence of her and the existence of me, in the same place at the same time, which she has manifested by sounding like a truck and curling herself around my arm and gently biting it, I'm not angry. No, I'm amused. Loving little hilarious gymnasts, that's what we're living with. Lila still hates them, but we think it's mostly stance. She's got no real feeling behind all those hissing fits. And the kittens seem to think she means for them to chase her. What do I know. I don't speak much cat. Maybe that's what she's really saying.
Oh. Siamese kittens. That would explain the reasonless happiness.
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