26 06 2003

Tuesday morning the phone rang. My seester who lives in Connecticut was calling from my Nacogdoches sister’s house. She had come to Texas for a high school reunion in Dallas and was making the East Texas sister rounds.

“Are you busy today?” she asked. My Nacogdoches sister had forgotten to call me and let me in on the plan, so this was very last minute.

“No,” I lied. I had intended to spend the afternoon editing chapter three. “Of course I’d love to see you!” At least that part was true.

She showed up around lunch time with her two sons, aged 14 and 10, and the rest of the day was spent in pleasant conversation. I don’t get to see them very often, and my 14-yr-old nephew hit puberty since the last time I saw him, so he was feeling his I’ve-grown-a-foot-taller-and-my-voice-has-changed oats. I was pleased to discover he’s quite a funny guy.

Mid-afternoon, I asked my sister, “Hey . . . do you remember the name of Mrs. Imes’s dog? You know that fat, ugly one she loved so much?”

She laughed at the memory and thought for a moment. “Hmmm. I should know that, but I can’t think of it.”

The name of that dog has been on the tip of my brain since I wrote the last post. I knew it was close enough to the surface to pop up like a cork in water any time. Just didn’t know when it would. In my memory I could hear Mrs. Imes telling us stories about all the “cute” things that dog did. I must have heard its name hundreds of times, and I thought if I just replayed those stories enough, the name would show up sooner or later. (Brains fascinate me! Especially my brain.)

Later in the afternoon, my nephew sliced a piece of homemade (i.e., bread-machine) bread for a snack. In the process, he sliced the bag it was in, so when my sister picked it up, crumbs scattered all over the floor.

“Do you have a little broom-thingie?” she asked.

“No, but I have a big broom-thingie,” I answered, and went to the closet to get it.

I opened the closet, reached for the broom, and bang! MICKIE! That’s it! The dog’s name was Mickie.

Coming back around the corner, I said, “Mickie.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Huh?”

“Mickie. The dog’s name was Mickie.”

“You’re right,” she said.

We swept up the crumbs and returned to our previous conversation. Don’t you just love when that happens, though? You know that little, unimportant piece of data is in there somewhere, and you know it will turn up, and (if you’re like me) you know it will arrive at a totally random moment for no explicable reason.

Life is good. Even my brain entertains me.

Pleasantest of days to anyone who happens by,



5 responses

26 06 2003

1. If it weren’t for my own brain, I would absolutely go insane. Well, on second thought maybe I am insane and that is why my brain is so entertaining.

2. I LOVE when you remember something like that….something that has been plaguing your mind and it just all of the sudden out of seemingly nowhere comes to you. It’s glorious. More than once though I have embarrassed myself with blurting the answer out at inopportune moments. =( Oh well.

3. I hope you had a great time with your sister.

4. Have a pleasant day your own self.


26 06 2003

Is there a Blurters Anonymous?

In regard to the blurting and embarrassing oneself phenomenon, this is what happens to me: I’ll be in a situation–a table full of people at a formal dinner or something–and the conversation is boring (in my opinion) so I go on a little adventure in my own mind. And often, something happens in that adventure that makes me laugh out loud. And, of course, right then the person at the table is telling about their recent surgery or some other thing that I should not be laughing at. So then I have some explaining to do. (But even so, it’s worth it!)

I had a lovely time with my sister! They had to drive back to Dallas that evening, and her boys were begging to stay, b/c we were all having so much fun. It’s nice when it works out that way. :o)

26 06 2003

Someone slipped you a Mickie

You’re eiditing Chapter 3? IDd Neil Simon finish that one a long time ago?

Hey Mickie You’re so fine, you’re so fine you blow my mind, Hey Mickie!

28 06 2003

Re: Someone slipped you a Mickie

Yeah, I’ve written sixteen chapters of my book so far, but I’ve only polished the intro and first two, which I needed for my proposal. So I’m plowing through them little by little. It’s the tedious part of writing, which is why I’m hanging out on LJ instead of working on it. Evil, I know. I’ll slap my own hand later.

Neil Simon? Uh, what are you talking about? Did he write that Mickie chant or something? :o) I’m so confused. Eh, but that’s nothing new, so don’t feel bad. Confused is the name of my home planet.

Nice to hear from you!

28 06 2003

Re: Someone slipped you a Mickie

Actually, Neil Simon wrote a play called Chapter 3. That wuz my reference. Ah, editing, or as some call it “Murdering our children.” I LOATHE editing myself. I don’t blame you for playing hookie.

Break a leg!


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