Po’tree and, uh, yeah.

8 07 2003

I’s gwine rite a po’m, yeh.
I’s gwine rite wun now.
I’s gwine rite a po’m jus’
Soon’s I figger out how.

Welp. I should be doing lots of stuff right now. Fun stuff. Like, the bathrooms need to be cleaned. And the house vacuumed. And I am not being as disciplined as I would like about editing. I’m not even being as disciplined as I usually am, which is less than I would like, but more than I’m being today.

Got two e-mails from Grace yesterday, and it sounds like Costa Rica is all the paradise she was hoping for and more. She loves the lady she’s staying with; she’s met a half dozen pals to hang with; she’s enamored with the culture and architecture, etc., etc. She said the university offers free Latin dance lessons on Tuesday and Thursday nights. I’m very jealous. I told her to do a salsa for me. “With utmost decorum,” I added. This weekend she gets to go to a beach that is popular for surfing, body boarding, and horse-back riding. Supposedly it is not one of the over-developed beaches. I’m happy for her. No really, I am. I mean, I have a life, too! Editing . . . bathrooms . . . vacuuming. Sigh.

We had a young couple and their two toddler sons over for dinner last night. They are moving away next week, and we will miss them. Good conversation. Good, thinking, articulate, interesting people. Not to mention they used to be in our praise band–they dropped out after Easter to concentrate on getting ready to move–and are sorely missed already in that capacity. Their boys, who are two and four, call me Supermodel. They think that’s my name, because I taught the older one to call me that when he first began learning to speak, and his parents went right along. (Yes, I am shameless enough to do that; and no, I will not pay for any therapy they may need later.) It’s so funny when the kids just say it casually in conversation: “Are you making cookies, Supermodel?” “What’s upstairs in that room, Supermodel?” At one point, one of them did something naughty, and their dad said, “Apologize to Supermodel.” And I’m supposed to keep a straight face while this cherub is looking remorseful and saying, “I’m sorry, Supermodel”? When they left, they said, “Thank you for your hospitality, Supermodel.” Man, I’m gonna miss those kids.

So, I guess this supermodel better get busy scrubbing toilets. Cinderella did it, and she lived happily ever after. Probably in Costa Rica.

Later. EZ


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4 responses

8 07 2003
ragamuffen

Supermodel…why didn’t I think of that when I was going with MaMa!?!?

I love to vacuum…umm, I do scrub the toilets, but it isn’t one of my favorite chores.

I love when you update!

xoxo

8 07 2003
jeannedamoff

Just a spoonful of sugar . . .

I have to play games with myself to enjoy housework. I’m such a dork, but no one has to know. Um, except anyone who reads this, I guess. For example, when I’m down on my knees scrubbing the bathroom tile floor, I sing that song from the animated version of Cinderella: “Sing sweet nightingale . . .” You know, she sings it while she’s scrubbing the big entryway floor, and then her reflections in the bubbles sing harmony? Ah, great drama! I haven’t figured out how to get the bubbles/reflections/harmony, but that just gives me something else to ponder while I clean.

There are some brains that would be horrifyingly scary if we could see into them. Mine would be a sitcom, I’m afraid. Perfectly safe for prime time.

8 07 2003
allenb

Giggle! Laugh! GASP! lol…

YOU are SOOOO smart!! LOL!! Supermodel! I LOVE IT! SNICKER! “I’m sorry Supermodel!” lol!!! OH THAT IS SOOOO WONDERFUL! hee hee hee …

My best friend went to Costa Rica last year hiking. She LOVED it. She said there are NO fat Costa Ricans. The land is lovely and pure. Sigh … it IS paradise.

I always love reading your stuff, but that might be beating a dead horse.

9 07 2003
jeannedamoff

You can’t hurt a dead horse . . .

. . . so beat away! I love the attention. ;o)

You’re always so enthusiatic and fun in your comments! Thanks for making me smile.

Your comments are a gift. Please know I read each one with gratitude.

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