Crazy Crap Item #131: The part where I am warned

Last Tuesday, I left for a long sojourn in Banning, California, home to my parents. My dad is receiving a long-awaited and much anticipated hip replacement, which promises to relieve some considerable pain he's experienced for far too long. I'm on deck to assist with groceries, light errands, transportation of the mother to and from visiting hours, and other duties as needed.

I apprised Jack of my impending departure, and he was scandalized.

"Really? Where?"

I vaguely explained California and hip replacements.

"I'll be gone two weeks."

Two weeks, of course, means nothing to a five-year-old. He's currently certain we're smack in the middle of June, and Halloween is sometime next week. When I tried to explain exactly how long two weeks was, he looked stricken and vaguely confused.

Upon the day of my departure, I arose early, and was out the door by 7:30 so as to make my 9am flight. As such, I was not able to give my final farewell to young Jack.

Later in the week, Eamon discovered a message left on our voice mail from young Jack. Later investigation revealed that he had wished to say farewell, and so his mother put him on the line. The message followed thusly:

"Bye, Kay. Um. You know, you should know that there's a real, alive werewolf in your basement. So BEWARE."

I am warned.

Crazy Crap Item #131: The part where I realize I am doomed to go through the same thought processes over and over

Today, I'm working on a very fun project for one of my favorite clients, The Teaching Company. They produce video courses for adults on a fun range of academic enrichment courses -- topics such as "Masterpieces of the Louvre," "A Brief History of the World," "Italian City-States," and the like. In my capacity as freelance writer, I'm paid (PAID, mind you) to watch these courses and write long-form catalog copy explaining why these courses are so cool. Thankfully, they usually are, so it's not such a brain teaser.

My latest course is "The History of World Literature." As a result of the watching the course, I've been taking notes on new works I'd like to read and old ones I'd like to come back to and re-read. In the latter category is The Epic of Gilgamesh, an ancient Babylonian epic purported oldest piece of literature in the world. I read it back in freshmen year in college, but since it didn't depict any saucy maidens, haughty lords, or country cotillions, I wasn't terribly interested at the time. I'm curious to see if my tastes have changed.

So I pull my Norton Anthology of World Masterpieces off the shelf, thinking that, of course, it will have this first of all masterpieces. I check the table of contents, and not only is it not there, in the margin is scratched a little note, in my hand. It reads, "What? No Epic of Gilgamesh?"

Alzheimer's, here I come.

Crazy Crap Item #130: The part where there we glimpse the rarest of phenomena

August birthdays abound in our neck of the woods.

Exhibit 1: Megan
Exhibit 2: Sheila
Exhibit 3: Chris
Exhibit 4: Gareth
Exhibit 5: yours truly

We ladies decided to go out and celebrate. And since only the ladies were invited, Chris and Gareth didn't get to come.

Megan, Sheila, Rose, Ann, and I, however, were in full force. We took a rain-sodden stroll down to Viet Bistro, a local asian fusion hot-spot. We arrive, dump our soggy umbrellas in a bucket (including Ann's signature Spider-man parasol), and are shown to a seat.

What to our wondering eyes should appear but our seldom-seen new neighbor Rick, accompanied by his virtually unknown partner.

Megan, immediately recognizing Rick, cries out to him across to the room. "Hello! Neighbor!" He acknowledges our greeting, but make no further move. I check out his partner, all unbeknownst to Rick.

Later in the meal, I look up and notice our neighbors have fled, with nary a parting greeting.

What to make of them?

Crazy Crap Item #129: The part where Kristen takes exception to my discussion with Jack about the monocled cat

(In reference to this post)

(10:57:35) krispe22: please don't ever tell me
(10:57:36) krispe22: again
(10:57:37) krispe22: about this
(10:57:47) krispe22: i cannot hear about sacs
(10:57:52) krispe22: ever ever again
(10:57:59) kaydaly88: hey, i was trapped
(10:58:01) kaydaly88: trapped!!!
(10:58:04) krispe22: um
(10:58:06) krispe22: you have legs
(10:58:08) krispe22: you can run away

Crazy Crap Item #128: The part where I find myself having a conversation I did not intend to have

My lovely neighborhood of Norwood Street boasts many attractions. Not least among them is a one-eyed black cat. I'm not sure where he actually lives; but I suspect he has a home on some other block of Norwood -- perhaps on the 1300 block, or maybe even the much hated 1400 block.

In any event, we know he has an owner. He seems to be well cared for. In addition to his one, jewel-like green eye, he boasts a collar and the kind of shiny, healthy coat of black fur and stocky physique you find only in a cat that eats early and often. He's also very friendly.

At our recent block party, we had occasion to discuss this cat. I'm not sure how it came up; I wasn't present for the start of the discussion. But by the time I came around, Eamon was suggesting that a cat with one eye would need a monocle. This led to speculation about the nature and personality of a one-eyed, monocled cat. It was suggested that his name was Thaddeus J. Churchill III, and that, perhaps, he thought himself a bit good for the likes of us, what with wearing a monocle and all.

Several days afterwards, our monoptic friend came to visit. As I've said, he's a friendly sort, and surprisingly unfazed by children. He minced into my yard and up onto my back steps, where he submitted himself to petting by James, Jack and myself. I recollected that Eamon had given the cat the name Thaddeus J. Churchill III, but that, in fact, said cat was a girl.

"How do you know?" Jack asked.

"I took a peek," I said, deliberately vague.

"A peek at what?" Jack inevitably asked.

"At the parts that tell you whether a cat is a boy or a girl," I answered, still vague.

"What parts?" Jack asked, undogged.

"Well," I hemmed,"Boys and girls have different part back here," gesturing vaguely to Thaddeus. "Boys have sacs. This cat has no sacs. So it's a girl."

Done, I thought.

"What sacs?" Jack asked, a tad horrified.

"Well, you know, sacs," I hawed. "Like you've got..." I trailed off, hoping he'd be distracted by something else.

"Where have I got sacs?"

Pause.

"You know. In your pants."

He twisted to look at the seat of his pants. "Where?"

"On the front."

"Oh, these?"

"Yeah, those."

Crazy Crap Item #127: The part where I surprise myself be being able to spell a hard word

"Mediterranean." Got it right on the first try, even. Man, I rock.