Day 2 explosion

It's Day 2, August 16th, 2010. Monday. I'm sitting at work trying to figure out how to get motivated to write a script on something I know very little about. Truth be told, I don't much care right now, because I'm going on vacation next week and still haven't decided when I'm coming back to the office.

First, though, let me tell you what happened this morning at 7:53. I was puttering around, fed The Beast (you haven't met him yet), fed the fishlets, and then was ready to feed myself some iced coffee. Put the required 6 cubes in the glass, ran a purple capsule through my Nespresso machine, grabbed the milk from the fridge, poured it in to create a thing of perfection. I opened my eyes really big with excitement, lifted the glass to my lips, and BLAM!! An ice cube exploded and shot coffee directly into my left eye. It also sprayed my entire face and dropped all over the floor, so you can imagine the force of this thing.

When it's Monday, you don't want to be up anyway, and the last thing you want to do is go to work, I did NOT need this.

Just thought you'd find that a humorous hold-over until we get to Part 2 tonight.

OK, maybe not tonight, per se. It's 1:42 and there's something I have to get off my chest. A few weeks ago I was on the phone with my sister, let's call her Anne, and I gave her an assignment that a professor of mine in college gave me long, long ago. I told her to write me a one-pager on Who You Think You Are, and I received it today before lunch.

Now, I originally gave her this task because I thought I'd learn something new about her or I'd get some kind of insight from her writing style. Instead, I got the saddest, rawest, most honest self-assessment I've ever read. Anne and I are only 13 months apart - that makes us some kind of twins, I forget the name - but no one could be closer to my heart. So imagine my reading this, my heart breaking further with every line.

But just as clouds continue to try to cover my world on a daily basis, I turn into Mr. Fucking Rogers and sing her a happy sunshine song. That is, until I can deal with it in person next week.

This is dedicated to you, my sweet Anne.

I'm Proud of You, by Mr. Fred M.F'in. Rogers

I'm proud of you. I'm proud of you.
I hope that you're as proud as I am proud of you.
I'm proud of you.
I hope that you are proud.

And that you're learning how important you are,
How important each person you see can be,
Discovering each one's specialty
Is the most important learning.

I'm proud of you. I'm proud of you.
I hope that you're as proud as I am proud of you.
I'm proud of you.
I hope that you're proud of you, too.

One quick departing note. I had lunch with my friend Eileen today - cheeseburgers and french fries - and she just emailed saying that the entire thing is currently lodged in her aorta. Now, how in the hell am I gonna' fix that!?