XXII: MLK Day and other odds and ends
In 1982, just a few weeks after we moved into our new home on 70 Guinevere Court, my mom discovered a garter snake was in the house (my wife just went into convulsions after reading that, just so you know). I can still recall vividly that at one point during the chaos, it slithered out from behind the fridge, across the kitchen floor, and into another room. Of course, after a few hours of pandemonium, with my sisters sitting on barstools in the family room so as to stay off the floor, Mom bravely tracked down the reptile and flung it outside the front door with one of those free yardsticks you get from the lumber store. I'm sure Dad ran it over it many months later with the lawn mower. Anyway, I recall the first few weeks after, that I would refuse to look down at the fridge, afraid I would see that snake again.
Why do I tell you this story? I don't remember. I like stories. No, wait, it's because I bet you all had that feeling when you checked your email these past several weeks. The first couple of times, you looked with one shut, hoping that you wouldn't have a long-winded opus about the New Jersey Watson's. Then the inevitable sigh of relief when you realized I had spared you. Days passed, and you grew complacent, checking the email more frequently, growing all the more confident that your life was now free from the dreaded "Update." And just when you thought it was safe to log-in.....
We're back! Yes, after several weeks and way too much time spent on actual work while at work, I've come up for air ready to waste your time. I must say a lot has happened since we left off (remember, NY was in the midst of a "crippling" transit strike in our last episode), though none of it interesting. Has that stopped us before? Of course not. Today, I'm happy to add yet another reader, Mary Ellen Hunter, who was my administrative assistant while I worked in the Indianapolis office. Mary Ellen referred to herself as "Aunt Mary Ellen" to the kids and is the president and chief executive officer of the Mrs. Watson Fan Club (Mrs. Watson is Regis in this case). Greetings Mary Ellen, welcome to the nonsense.
We had a great time visiting friends and family in Indiana over the holidays, though it seemed like there wasn't enough time to see the people we wanted to, or spend the time we wished we could. Before we knew it, we were back here and back in the swing of things. Just a few weeks ago we celebrated Annie's 2nd birthday, and I will spare you the inevitable "Annie ate eleven pieces of cake" joke because it's too easy. Truthfully, the number was only 9 and she tried to put the candles out with her hands. And speaking of birthdays, Maggie offered her take on the Reverend Doctor Martin Luther King Jr.'s birthday, which was observed three days after Annie's. She said, "Mommy...there was this guy...martin loofer...he wore a striped shirt...he had a dweam that all people be fwiends. It's gonna be his burfday."
Jimmy and I celebrated MLK day the way God intended, at a Pacers-Nets game. We were the beneficiaries of two 6th row seats at center-court, which our friend Dan won in a raffle. When you actually have the thought "I'm glad Ron Artest isn't playing in this game" you know you are close to the action. The good news is that the boy ate enough concessions so that economically I was in the same position as if I had purchased the tickets. The only bad thing about being that close is that you are very far from the restroom, if you know what I mean.
That same weekend we decided to paint our bathroom yellow, and shortly after Regis painted Jimmy's room red. We like primary colors. Maggie wants to paint her room black; which I think set off some alarm bells to the folks at social services who have wire-tapped our house. Morbid paint choices aside, Maggie continues to provide endless hours of entertainment. She started ballet and tap class last week ("Mom, I was just perfect") and her observations on life keep us smiling. She informed us that her big toe is her "thumb toe" and that the tights she wears are "panty toes." She also let us know, when Annie was wearing jeans and she was wearing a dress, that she is "a tomgirl..annie a tomboy."
One other Maggie story that I may have mentioned before, but Regis wanted me to include. I don't recall if this was at Thanksgiving at my sister Jill's, or perhaps back in Indiana over the holidays, but at one point Maggie referred to Jimmy as her "other brother." Of course, this triggered a raised eyebrow from her grandmother, who inquired, "then who is your other brother Maggie?" to which Maggie replied "Daddy is my other brother." Wow. Again, social services probably has us on 24-hour surveillance at this point.
Other than that (and me working way too much), we are plugging along. Before I go, I leave you with this completely unconnected thought: The people who invented high-definition TV did not anticipate that the Rolling Stones would still be performing live. Some things are best left in standard definition...like the vein above Mick Jagger's eye.
Let us know how you are all doing.
Why do I tell you this story? I don't remember. I like stories. No, wait, it's because I bet you all had that feeling when you checked your email these past several weeks. The first couple of times, you looked with one shut, hoping that you wouldn't have a long-winded opus about the New Jersey Watson's. Then the inevitable sigh of relief when you realized I had spared you. Days passed, and you grew complacent, checking the email more frequently, growing all the more confident that your life was now free from the dreaded "Update." And just when you thought it was safe to log-in.....
We're back! Yes, after several weeks and way too much time spent on actual work while at work, I've come up for air ready to waste your time. I must say a lot has happened since we left off (remember, NY was in the midst of a "crippling" transit strike in our last episode), though none of it interesting. Has that stopped us before? Of course not. Today, I'm happy to add yet another reader, Mary Ellen Hunter, who was my administrative assistant while I worked in the Indianapolis office. Mary Ellen referred to herself as "Aunt Mary Ellen" to the kids and is the president and chief executive officer of the Mrs. Watson Fan Club (Mrs. Watson is Regis in this case). Greetings Mary Ellen, welcome to the nonsense.
We had a great time visiting friends and family in Indiana over the holidays, though it seemed like there wasn't enough time to see the people we wanted to, or spend the time we wished we could. Before we knew it, we were back here and back in the swing of things. Just a few weeks ago we celebrated Annie's 2nd birthday, and I will spare you the inevitable "Annie ate eleven pieces of cake" joke because it's too easy. Truthfully, the number was only 9 and she tried to put the candles out with her hands. And speaking of birthdays, Maggie offered her take on the Reverend Doctor Martin Luther King Jr.'s birthday, which was observed three days after Annie's. She said, "Mommy...there was this guy...martin loofer...he wore a striped shirt...he had a dweam that all people be fwiends. It's gonna be his burfday."
Jimmy and I celebrated MLK day the way God intended, at a Pacers-Nets game. We were the beneficiaries of two 6th row seats at center-court, which our friend Dan won in a raffle. When you actually have the thought "I'm glad Ron Artest isn't playing in this game" you know you are close to the action. The good news is that the boy ate enough concessions so that economically I was in the same position as if I had purchased the tickets. The only bad thing about being that close is that you are very far from the restroom, if you know what I mean.
That same weekend we decided to paint our bathroom yellow, and shortly after Regis painted Jimmy's room red. We like primary colors. Maggie wants to paint her room black; which I think set off some alarm bells to the folks at social services who have wire-tapped our house. Morbid paint choices aside, Maggie continues to provide endless hours of entertainment. She started ballet and tap class last week ("Mom, I was just perfect") and her observations on life keep us smiling. She informed us that her big toe is her "thumb toe" and that the tights she wears are "panty toes." She also let us know, when Annie was wearing jeans and she was wearing a dress, that she is "a tomgirl..annie a tomboy."
One other Maggie story that I may have mentioned before, but Regis wanted me to include. I don't recall if this was at Thanksgiving at my sister Jill's, or perhaps back in Indiana over the holidays, but at one point Maggie referred to Jimmy as her "other brother." Of course, this triggered a raised eyebrow from her grandmother, who inquired, "then who is your other brother Maggie?" to which Maggie replied "Daddy is my other brother." Wow. Again, social services probably has us on 24-hour surveillance at this point.
Other than that (and me working way too much), we are plugging along. Before I go, I leave you with this completely unconnected thought: The people who invented high-definition TV did not anticipate that the Rolling Stones would still be performing live. Some things are best left in standard definition...like the vein above Mick Jagger's eye.
Let us know how you are all doing.
posted by Watts at 9:15 AM
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