I had that song in my head and thought I'd share the earworm. (Tag, you're it!) Actually, I'm just going to give a brief wrap-up of the weekend festivities.
Friday's dinner out with the folks went well, and we had a great laugh at one of the birthday gifts I received (a book of quotes by kids on aging...one of my favorites, from seven year old Mark Rose: "When you get to 22 your hand begins to shake and you can't cut out sticky paper anymore." And from Emma Newman, age 7: "Middle age is when you 'pors' your driving test."). Plus, the night yielded two more anecdotes for my "Can I put that in a book?" file. This is a file for events and quotes that I find particularly amusing, touching, or memorable for some reason. For example, when my best friend told me she was putting a clear pyramid statue on a copy of my manuscript so that it would one day be published, I asked her if I could put that in a book. And because she is wonderful, selfless, and a much better person than I am, she indulges me whenever I ask this question.
The best CIPTIAB quote of the evening comes from someone I've never met; this was actually a story my sister told me. One of her friends was dating a male massage therapist (don't even ask me why I felt compelled to type "male" there...that's a whole 'nother post.) and he recently broke up with her because ... wait for it ... a black demon was living in her neck. Me, in between whoops of laughter: "Can I put that in a book?" Sis: "Sure, why not!"
In other news, we finally put my dog Daisy in the same room as a baby, with mixed results. Let's just say there was a lot of hair-pulling, barking, and screaming. But it was happy screaming (from the baby). I was pretty worried because Daisy can be high-strung and nippy at times, but everyone's still happy and whole today. She seemed pretty confused and excited by the baby, trying to curry his favor and rolling over in submission after he pulled her hair a few times. And she really dug licking drool from his soft baby chin. Dog-baby coexistence is one of my major worries these days, right up there with global warming, losing a loved one, and finding vegetarian entrees (or even side dishes) at the various beef-n-fish shacks in my hometown. (For tourist veggies: You may not want to drive north of Wausau if your idea of salad is incompatible with clear hunks of iceberg lettuce, leathery carrot shreds, a globby blanket of ranch dressing, and stale bacon bits.)
But seriously, I'm getting worried about how my spoiled little furbaby will cope should a baby enter the picture. I guess the solution is fairly dull since it involves common sense: just keep a close eye on the dog and baby together, intervening as necessary. In the meantime, I'm still campaigning to dress the dog in at least one cute outfit. Jason, the voice of reason in this arena, has yet to indulge me on this point.
And finally, I don't want to be a complainer, but there should be a law passed that prohibits one from pointing out capitalization errors in another person's DRAFT document if the critic is going to use words like "bulletted" or "cummunity." I hate that.
Happy Monday everyone. Twenty days to overeating, uncomfortable family conversations, and presents!