Jaymi would like me to print a retraction to yesterday's scattered and
imprecise *FootNotes* entry, wherein I made it sound as
though I was miffed because she didn't call me over the weekend,
her sister and brother BOTH favored me with spontanteous, out of the
blue, just-to-say-hello/not-calling-for-money (although-next-week-IS
Dad's-birthday) phone chats.
huffy i.m. conversation:
I talk to you every day!!!
Now I'm not speaking to you anymore.
I guess that you and I are just growing apart. Sniff.
my toofy hurts.
absolutely correct. I DO
to her every day, at least during the week, when
both sitting in our respective offices 700 miles apart with easy
access to the Internet and limitless "free" long distance ... and then again in the evenings, when we're both sitting
respective apartments 700 miles apart, in our respective Happy
Pants. We i.m. for
at least half an hour or so, three or four nights a week. Last night's
scintillating topics of i.m. conversation, besides what a sucky mother
I am: Kimberley Stewart replacing Nicole Richie on "The Simple
Life" ... which hurts more - a root canal or an
infected ingrown toenail? ... the possibility of
auctioning Jaymi off on *FootNotes,* in a sort of
"Help Find Daughter #1's Next Boyfriend" contest. (HER idea,
swear to god. She's fed up with Match.com, apparently.) I also
related to her this story
from my workplace, which still has us both sort of slack-jawed in
from the Geonerd Department -- although she's actually one of
the (few) non-nerdy geotechs: she faxes
her own invoices to Accounting, she isn't a pointless
addict AND she never stands in front of my desk at 7:56 a.m. asking me
if we've got any Super Glue -- went to a wedding over the weekend,
near Washington D.C. She and her boyfriend were
attending as guests of the bride, but during the course of the ceremony
they noticed that people were making a huge noisy fuss over one of the
groomsmen. Lots of cameras going off, lots of people crowding
around him asking for autographs, etc. Becky didn't know who
he was, but eventually she asked another guest what all the fuss
said the other guest.
But here's the amazing part:
STILL didn't know
who he was! She doesn't watch "American Idol," apparently. "His hair was messy," was all she really had to
say about him afterwards. (That, and the fact that he was
very "little.") So naturally she wasn't one of the milling
hoardes, trying to score an autograph. If I'd been at the
wedding, I doubt that I would have approached him for an autograph
either -- I already have my Joe Millionaire
autograph, thanks -- but I probably would have
pulled the Motorola out of my purse and taken a quicky blurry camera
pic of the guy, just for posterity. Or for *FootNotes.*
Back to the point, which is the fact that I DO,
fact, hear from
Daughter #1 on a near-daily basis, and that she's a good attentive
daughter who loves her mother and checks in regularly and involves me
in her life, and I apologize profusely if I inadvertently made it sound
she's still not
getting a pony.
to throw a rock?