LIFE: OPEN FOR VIEWING
Once when I was in college, I agreed to answer several survey questions for a freshman psychology student. One of the questsions that she posed was "If you could be any animal, which one would you be?" In about a tenth of a second I heard myself say "a bird", and when asked why I explained that birds were able to witness life from many perspectives: the ground the sky and everywhere in between. I found that to be enviable.
As I sat outside sipping my iced tea at the Promenade in Westlake, waiting for C-note to humble the golf course, I observed many birds around the fountain and trees surrounding my table. A surprising number of birds were maimed, one-legged, missing feathers, and other oddities. I wondered if life as a bird wasn't quite as wonderful as I had imagined. Or, perhaps being a bird in the suburban consumer playground was some kind of bird hell.
Come to think of it, I also witnessed a number of humans who were crippled and physically compromised as well. I guess life is tough no matter how you manage to incarnate on his planet.
After many years of serious study, I think I've developed the ability to see life from many perspectives, just like the birds I so admired in college. It hasn't made life any easier, and it has managed to complicate things greatly. However, the view from any angle is only as clear as the person who is looking with the wonderment of a child and the discernment of a crone.
DIAGNOSIS
Today as I was driving C-note to the golf course, he diagnosed me with a previously unheard of condition: A.D.D.D.
As in, Attention Deficit Driver Disorder, according to him.
C-note thinks that I don't pay razor sharp attention to the road in front of me. :-)
ALSO KNOWN AS . . . . .
My local bookstore, Village Books, keeps track of my purchases, and after spending a certain amount, I get credit for a future purchase. Very nice of them. Except, after being informed that I had a credit (hooray), the next three times I went in to buy books they couldn't find it in the file (boo hoo).
Today, when I ventured in to buy a book I'd ordered, I persisted in asking them to find my credit. Lo and behold, my phone number was attached to a different name. Apparently I am also known as C.C. Nudleman.
Therefore, I shall become C.C. Nudleman from this day on out. Especially when I do something really dorky, like run over the center island separating the lanes on Palisades Drive (which I did today after procuring the cat food).
C.C. lives on!
THANKS FOR THINKING OF ME, GLADYS
I just received an e-mail from someone named "Gladys". I do not know this Gladys. She has affectionately re-named me as "Kellybear" (?). The subject of this e-mail is as follows:
SUBJECT: SHADOW TROMBONES NEAR 5661 KELLYBEAR
Ummm, okay. I guess I've been forewarned. I'll definitely be on the lookout for those shadow trombones, and avoid them at all costs, especially when I'm anywhere near 5661.
And then, the text of the message goes like this:
casein crime above affirmation mcdougall dogberry rummy meaty muncie demystify.
Well, there you go. Seems perfectly unclear to me. Let's see . . . . . . . .
*casein: I only go for organic.
*crime: Hasn't paid off lately for Martha Stewart, Ken Lay, or Bobby Brown.
*above: it all, that's me.
*affirmation: I've sworn those off for good!
*mcdougall: that's my friend Todd's last name.
*dogberry: a cross between a Milkbone biscuit and a blackberry (also known as a turd)
*rummy: how my mother feels after just one long island iced tea
*meaty: how I like my men
*muncie: ooooooh, a foreign word
*demystify: obviously my chosen path toward salvation
Thanks, Gladys
G'DAY MATE
What is this world coming to? In the news today it is reported that Barbie has dumped Ken, and has hooked up with a younger man: a cool surfer dude from down under named Blaine. Apparently, Ken was just a fuddy duddy, and Blaine, well, he's just swell. Man, I'm soooo jealous of that Barbie. She's got the body, the wardrobe, the convertible, and now the Aussie hunk to hang all over. Geez.
