2003-02-08 - 8:25 p.m.
Alright, we've had another incident involving bodily fluids. Once again, it happened during pre-bath nudie time. When will I learn? This time, she peed on the tile floor in the kitchen and when I turned around she was doing what I can only describe as a belly slide across the floor in her own urine. I'm reconsidering nudie time.
Here's a picture of Lou with her best buddy, G, to help you visualize the belly slide. Lou is the blonde (?!) one with the baby mullet and (permanent) milk stain.
Writings to Remember
If you've got a bit of time, this is a really interesting short story by George Saunders that ran in the January 23rd issue of the New Yorker. (I am always about three New Yorkers behind.) I think his writing style is so unique, and when it works, it's Brilliant.
As long as I'm recommending things and changing topics without warning, this beautiful poem by Jane Hirshfield ran in the January 6 issue. (See, always behind.) What do you think?
It was like this:
you were happy, then you were sad,
then happy again, then not.
It went on.
You were innocent or you were guilty.
Actions were taken, or not.
At times you spoke, at other times you were silent.
Mostly, it seems you were silent--what could you say?
Now it is almost over.
Like a lover, your life bends down and kisses your life.
It does this not in forgiveness--
between you, there is nothing to forgive--
but with the simple nod of a baker at the moment
he sees the bread is finished with transformation.
Eating, too, is now a thing only for others.
It doesn't matter what they will make of you
or your days: they will be wrong,
they will miss the wrong woman, miss the wrong man,
all the stories they tell will be tales of their own invention.
Your story was this: you were happy, then you were sad,
you slept, you awakened.
Sometimes you ate roasted chestnuts, sometimes persimmons.
�
