July 11, 2003

• you can’t go home again

  
  

  I don’t know who said that, but I have to water my dad’s lawn while he’s rafting the firth river to the beaufort sea.

  
  

  

  
  

  actually, I’m not entirely sure I’ll be able to figure out the elaborate system of runs and pumps, after listening to the directions last night.  if I do it wrong, I burn out the main pump.   this looks like a distinct possibility.  the eleven year old next door appears to have some grasp of the process…this doesn’t give me hope for my own abilities, just relief that if I fuck up too badly, I have someone to turn to for help.

  
  

  I was relieved to find out that after years of not bothering to fix the air conditioning system, dad has installed a new heat pump/ac.  I cannot emphasize enough the depths of my thankfullness.  I am SO a melter…so much so that I moved away from that desert climate entirely.

  
  

  I asked about the safety of sleeping outside, were there any cougars, etc, sighted lately… only to be reminded that the rattlesnakes would make that an uninviting prospect.  “just chop their heads off with a shovel.”  I guess it’s been a while.

  
  

  here is my list of things to do:

  
  

  1.  drag fp to the movies to salivate over pirates
  2.  drag fp to the bars
  3.  drag fp home if she unable to do so herself
  4.  hike mission ridge
  5.  take the kids to the lake
  6.  spend a day on the river
  7.  golf
  8.  tennis
  9.  get a haircut and pedicure
  10.  lose ten pounds
  11.  sweat a lot
  12.  recover from heatstroke
  13.  read something
  14.  make it home alive, with all three kids (also alive)

  
  

  I hope to avoid arguments with all relatives, mine and the man’s (though he’s not coming along)…and maybe, if all things pan out, rent a jetski…mmmmmmmmmm.

  
  

  I’ll be staying in my old bedroom.
  maybe I’ll sneak over to my mom’s where there’s internet and cable.
  it’s funny how you end up feeling like the kid you were, when surrounded by such deep sources of memory.

  
  

  in case you’re wondering, you know, what I was like:

  
  

    well, there ya go.

  
  

  ********************************************************

  
  

  edited to add: 

  
  

  I’ve been walking around the house, loudly singing:

  
  

  Ink Spots—If I Didn’t Care
  
  If I didn’t care more than words can say
  If I didn’t care would I feel this way?
  If this isn’t love then why do I thrill?
  And what makes my head go ’round and ’round
  While my heart stands still?
  
  If I didn’t care would it be the same?
  Would my ev’ry prayer begin and end with just your name?
  And would I be sure that this is love beyond compare?
  Would all this be true if I didn’t care for you?
  
  MONOLOGUE: If I didn’t care honey child, mo’ than words can say. If I didn’t 
  care baby, would I feel this way? Darlin’ if this isn’t love, then why do I thrill so
  much? What is it that makes my head go ’round and ’round while my heart just stands
  still so much ?
  
  If I didn’t care would it be the same?
  Would my ev’ry prayer begin and end with just your name?
  And would I be sure that this is love beyond compare?
  Would all this be true if I didn’t care for you?
  

  
  

  I’ve had to do this all because of theGlomonster’s wakeup song, evilly reverberating in my head…

  • 5:34 pm
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