Iguanna

Itty Bitty Vid

Just a brief one.
RPB Recreation Cultural Center

Robert Redford

I'm looking forward to stress-free, restful nights, but I wonder when they will come. This morning, I woke at 4:30 and didn't go back to sleep til about 6. I then dreamt I was in a city somewhere, back in the 1960s. The dream was in black and white which is unusual for me. I was a photojournalist, working for Robert Redford. A young The Way We Were / All The President's Men Robert Redford. But, in the dream, I was conscious of my future because I had been here already.

I covered some kind of upheaval in the city. A riot or something. Then, I had to seek out a shop to develop my photos cause I was shooting on negs.

I was talking with my editor, Robert Redford, while walking quickly together through some building when we passed a woman. He said something work related to her and she went on her way. I asked him who she was and he gave me the name of a person I know in the future. I burst into tears seeing someone who I know from the present day.

I don't remember much more than that. Kind of lame. Things have been pretty crappy these days, I could have at least made out with my editor (the young Redford, NOT my real one).

A Conversation With Captain Clingy

Oliver - Hi, Mom!
Me - Hello, nudgy
O - Hi , Mom!
M - What do you want, I just let you out.
O - I'm just resting my chin on your lap while you play on the computer.
M - I'm not playing. I'm being very busy and important.
O - You're playing chess.
M - Why are you all over me right now? I just let you out two minutes ago.
O - I love going out. I also love shoving my nose under your arm with conviction. May I?
M - You're breathing in my face.
O - If I prance over to the other side of you and jam my nose under the other arm, is that less annoying?
M - What is your deal? You're a little annoying right now.
O - How about if I put my paws in your lap and stand up so my face is in yours.
M - Crap.
O - Well, you shouldn't have brought your knight out so soon.
M - You're breath stinks. Do you eat fish jerky when I'm not around?
O - No, but I do step in squishy things then lick my paws. Oh, I love rawhide. Remember the time you gave me rawhide? That was fun. Can I have another?
M - No more rawhide for you.
O - Why?
M - You barfed it up on the couch last night, remember?
O - Hi, Mom! (lick lick)
M - Do you need a scratch? How 'bout that? Is that good? Will you stop being a clingy toddler now?
O - Oh, good. Here's my butt. See? I'm wagging my butt in your face now. I'll stare up at you longingly now.
M - What is your deal? Are you out of food? Water?...No. You have plenty. I don't know what you need.
O - Oh, boy! I'm so excited I'll run in circles for no apparent reason now!
M - What's wrong, Lassie? Has Timmy fallen down the well again?!
O - Hi, Mom!

Ungrateful Lucky Kid

Tonight I watched a TiVoed episode of Extreme Makeover Home Edition. The crew was helping a marine who lost his leg during service in Iraq, then returned home only to have his heartless wife leave him one year later with four kids and a shitty run-down un-handicapped accessible home in which to raise them.

I watched the beginning to get the gist of the story, then skipped to the end to see the reveal of the home. The kids unfortunately seemed a little vacuous. They are young, the oldest is nine, but still, you'd think they'd show some enthusiasm for the situation. They aren't dumb, I told myself, they're overwhelmed..

After checking out their rooms and such, they all stood together in their tricked-out garage while Ty got them riled-up for the next phase, "How do you like it so far!?" he yells at them.
"Yay! We love it!" Dad says, children staring blankly.
"Wanna see some more?!" Ty asks excitedly.
"Yeah!" yells Dad.
"Let's go!" yells Ty, as he turns to lead them all out the door.

Then I do a double-take. What did I just see? I'm sure I must be mistaken, so I rewind. Yup, I did see correctly. While Ty is getting everyone excited about the next phase of the reveal, the seven year old girl is kicking him in the shins! Repeatedly. Ty clearly has chosen to ignore her, because he just continues on like nothing is wrong. Kicking the host in the shins.

Way to show your appreciation, kid.

Rawhiiiiiiiiiide!

My friend Rachel and her girls gave Oliver a rawhide bone during their recent visit to Flori-duh. Oliver has never quite grasped rawhide. I would hold it out for him and he'd give it a few licks and return back to his own paws.

This time, I put one end in hot water to juice it up a bit. Finally, he's got it! I don't know why I'm so excited about this new development. It's not like it's freaking Baby Einstein for dogs or anything! It's as if I feel it will help entertain him when I'm not at home. I'm just happy he has a pastime. Even if he does tend to come right up to me and burp in my face afterwards.

Bicycle

Bicycles. I was listening to the radio and a guy was telling a story on This American Life about how when he was twelve, his dad walked downtown with him and bought him a bike. On his bike ride home on his brand new bike, he stopped in a convenient store to play a video game. When he came back out, the bike was gone. He walked home terrified and arrived there to find his father had stolen it to teach him a lesson.

It got me thinking about my various wheels as a kids. At six I would tear up and down our street on my Big Wheels. If they had them in adult size today, I think I might seriously considering investing in one. When I was eight, we took a summer vacation in Poccasset Cape Cod and my cousin Andy, taught me how to ride a two wheeler. I think it may have consisted to sending me down a long gradual hill.

One of my best friends when I was a kid was a boy down the street named Andy. He was two year younger than me and we hung-out all the time. We built forts, played in their family pool, built some more forts. I remember in the winter once, sitting on his porch making a fake fire. We were breaking up sticks and he was yanking at the branch on one of the sticks he was trying to break-up. I knew what was going to happen by the angle of the stick. I don't know if it occurred to me to say anything or if it just happened too fast, but the little part of the stick in one hand broke and the other, he jammed straight up his nose. I remember the blood gushing down his snowsuit while he wailed.

I digress. Come summer, Andy and I lived on our bikes. I likely rode a boys bike, considering I wanted to be a boy at the time. We would ride around the neighborhood and take special pleasure in the back parking lot of the library. It was a tiny place, but there was one step from the back door which had, on the other side, a handicap ramp. Awesome.

A year or so later, my favorite black and yellow checkered Huffy was stolen from the bike rack at front of the library. Another time, I went to the garage to find my bike and it wasn't there. I was convinced someone had stolen it and was a bit embarrassed when I found it in the neighbor's yard where I had left it a few days before when I was playing there.

In high school, or middle school, my ten speed (which I treated like a dirt bike) was stolen again. I went to the police station to report it. The cops told me they had some bikes brought in recently. They took me to their bike holding facility and I spotted it right away. "Can you prove it's yours?" he asked. I wouldn't' thinking I could really, but I immediately remembered the tear on the underside of one of the handle bars. He was impressed. He handed it over to me.

I used to ride my bike for miles to the soccer practice fields. I kind of hated doing that actually. Who wants to ride after they're hot and tired from practice? I rode a bike to school for a while. My friend Rachel and I, when we were particularly attached at the hip in middle and early high school, would ride bikes to meet in between where our two homes met, so we could talk and complain about the trials and tribulations of being in middle school or early high school. Now I ride my mountain bike grudgingly, for excercise.

I wonder when that shift happened; when the freedom and fun my bike gave me became a tiring mode of transportation.

Funniest Quote of the Night

From Rachel, "That guy has a master's degree in creepy."