Sunday, February 2, 2014


• In the lobby before yoga class last night, my Cameron-teacher told me, “Every time you adjust your outfit in class you have to bark like a dog.” Apparently I fidget a lot. He said, “I don’t want to say that it’s between every pose in the standing series . . . but it’s between every pose in the standing series.” While I didn’t bark like I was supposed to, I only touched my clothes five times—three times on purpose and twice on accident.

• I cracked myself up in that class. Earlier yesterday Cameron posted this on Facebook:
So that’s how I did Standing Bow. Then I laughed so hard I fell out.

A few weeks ago Jim and I tumbled into the SkyGuide app. It’s one remarkable piece of software. I took astronomy in high school and in college but that was more than a decade ago, and since I can barely remember what year it is, I definitely can’t remember anything I learned in those classes. I do remember though how much I enjoyed the subject. Not the parts of the topic that talk about stars’ size and death and black holes. I just like learning where the constellations and significant stars are. You know, the unimportant stuff. But go ahead and bet me $20 that I can’t locate Betelgeuse in under five seconds. I’ll take your money, and that will feel pretty important to me.

• Which reminds me—last year Jim, Josie, and I went to the planetarium for a show on black holes. While the topic is too big for me, the show was good. At least I thought so. Within ten minutes of the lights dimming, Jim was out. And he’s a snorer. Josie and I snickered and agreed that it was only a matter of time.

• While Mondays are an unequivocal bummer, there’s one part of each Monday that I always enjoy: the latest “Wait Wait . . . Don’t Tell Me” podcast. While, sure, I like “This American Life,” and always get into “Radio Lab,” “WWDTM” is my best-loved show. I always hope that one or two of my favorite panelists—Roy Blount, Jr., Mo Rocca, Paula Poundstone, Bryan Babylon, and Maz Jobrani—will be on the show, but all the panelists are a hoot. Even though Capitol Public Radio broadcasts each week’s episode, like, six times from Friday until Sunday night, I’m never in the car long enough or at the right time to catch it all. So I listen to each week’s podcast on Mondays, making that dreary weekday informative and hilarious and something to sort of almost maybe look forward to.

• It would be really funny if adults started saying “lellow” instead of “yellow.”

• Sophie was angry with me all day yesterday. I wasn’t fun and I didn’t take her over to Jim’s to spend the day annoying Gus.

• DIY is my least favorite acronym. Why in the world would I want to do something myself?

• The other night Jim and I were sitting in his room talking and Ben was on the floor using his imagination. He built an X-wing fighter out of pillows. Deep in a Darth Mal performance, he wore a pillowcase cape and leapt off the fireplace with his light saber. Then he went into the bathroom and came out with the cape turned around like an apron and a shower cap over his hair, declaring himself a lunch lady. He used a bike pump to make the sound effects when he was an astronaut walking on the moon. He was a ghost, a droid, a zebra, a ninja. He put me in a jail made of chairs. That’s something I love about Jim’s kids—they don’t park themselves in front of video games or TV. Sure, they’ll play Wii from time to time or watch a show, but it’s not often. Mostly it’s rollerblading inside (don’t fret, Jim’s floors can take it), playing with remote-controlled anything, climbing the house, diving through the dog door, setting off rockets, jumping on the trampoline, playing ping pong, riding bikes, baking, and so on. It’s not uncommon for me to come over and within ten minutes be coerced into some kind of handstand contest with Josie. (She always wins.) Those kids are doers.

Canadian jokes—that is, jokes about Canada and Canadians—will forever and always make me laugh.

• I love loving Jim.

• Little excellent bits: Vlasic’s dill pickle Snack ‘Ems, wearing fuzzy-on-the-inside boots without socks, unlimited cell data, a ceiling fan with a remote (thanks for fixing that, sweet Jim), secret Pinterest boards, Ambien (only from time to time and only half a pill, of course), and Hannah’s haircuts.

• Lately Jim’s been a garage-cleaning fiend. It’s a constantly evolving and improving space. His commitment to the task is titillating. And just seeing the piles of stuff he’s tossing leaves me breathless and blazing with passion.

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