One fine day

Reading some of the comments on the entry where I announce that we are just about to redirect our mail to a lovely bridge I found in Newark, I realized that I may have sounded a wee bit sad. I admit that there is a little bit of that Lilliputian, Glum, in me-you know, the one from Gulliver’s Travels, and I have often quoted his wise words of warning. “We’ll never make it! We’re dooooomed!”


I know that this reference dates me, but I’m a pretty good date—for myself. I know exactly what movies I like and what kind of flowers I prefer and romantically, well I don’t mean to toot my own horn, but I’m a pretty incredible lover to me if I do say so myself. The problem with dating myself is that when I call me to make a date, the line is always busy.

To those of you who have responded to my Glum blog with words of wisdom, inspiration and empathy, thank you. To those of you who could give a rat’s ass whether we wind up on the streets or not, I never liked you anyway...and your mother wears combat boots ...so you should give her my number.

It’s not all so bleak. We’re ok for now. I’ll let you all know when we’re completely destitute. That’ll be fun reading. Until then, I’m going to try to stay positive and focus on happy things.

One happy event occurred when we returned from Boston a few weeks ago. I’m skipping around chronologically, but I’ll sort it all out when I write what’s sure to be my nationally acclaimed memoir.

We know that I had a tonnage of laundry to do since the washing machine fell into a coma after choking on baby socks. And there was plenty of other crap to be done-the usual stuff after a few days away. I was happy to be home but kind of down. It wasn’t that I wished we were back in Boston though we had a great time. It was more the bad-mother kind of blues. We were out of town on a vacation, but the kids were with us. Got home, and ... still with us. Everywhere I turn-still there. The next week, Asher was home for spring break. All day. Every day.

I couldn’t remember the last time we were able to spend a day together. Alone. No kids. I really just want to ditch them for a few hours. I didn’t dare speak my selfish thoughts. Every now and then, my lady-friend surprises me. She was experiencing some selfish thoughts of her own.

The morning that our plumber was due to come take a look at our washing machine, Gabriella told me that we wouldn’t be here when he arrived. Huh? “We’re going out today. I got a sitter for the day, and we’re not due back until late tonight.” She planned a surprise day out, and it wasn’t even my birthday. I almost wept. Of course, since birthing babies, I cry at the drop of a hat-especially when large crowds cheer. Yeah, I don’t get it either. Anyway, I was too excited to cry. I had a few minutes for a wardrobe change, and we were out the door as soon as our lovely babysitter showed up. The boys were very happy to see her, but we were even happier. “Thanks so much for coming! Here are the keys to the car. We’ll be back by 11 or so. Bye!” And out!

“MoMA or Guggenheim?” Gabriella asked on our walk to the train. Museums are seldom my first choice for an outing on a seasonable day. Museums are like gyms. I may not get excited about going, but I always feel great for having gone. “I love the Guggenheim,” she said, “but I haven’t been to MoMA since it was redone. What do you think?” I didn’t even know MoMA had been redone. Gabriella is that girl whose default channel is PBS and watches the NewsHour with Jim Lehrer for fun. She’s Business Section, and I’m Style.

So I said, “Well let’s go to MoMA, then.” Gabriella was most pleased. What an experience! So much to see and all the time in the world (well, the day) to see it. I took lots of photographs (flash-free of course) of my favourites works of art, but I chose one to share with you and to dedicate to my sister for all the grief I give her on the blog. I'm sure she'll be very touched.

John D. Graham: Two Sisters


The day began with a mile-long walk from our house to the train station. We then walked from Penn Station to the museum and all over MoMA. By the time we left, my dogs were barking! It wasn’t just my feet complaining. Keep in mind that it has been a long, cold winter in the suburbs of New Jersey, and I had not done much moving of any kind. I had developed a bad case of Minivanasswidenous, and I couldn’t wait to sit my aching tushy down.

Sushi for dinner and another surprise. Gabriella got tickets for the final dress-rehearsal of Eugene O’Neill’s Desire Under the Elms from our friend Lois. I won’t go on about the play because this post is long enough. You can read a detailed review of the play here. I will tell you that you should run not walk if you’re into pig innards, naked man-butt and lots and lots of rocks.

We don’t know what’s around the corner for us, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t appreciate the time we’ve got together now. Deep breath in. Let it out. Be grateful for what we’ve got. Have fun. Have faith.