Morning Commute
I wake up and notice that Zoey is still sleeping, extricate myself from her legs which have crawled up over my belly and quietly stand up. A quick glance assures me she is still asleep, so I walk around the foot of the bed toward the bedroom door. In the small hallway between the bedroom and the computer room there are a number of dust bunnies that have gathered in the corners and under the small bookshelf. I remind myself to sweep and swiffer the floor later in the day. There is also a collection of small, brightly colored magnetic letters Zoey had scattered on the floor the previous day. I pick one up, then put it back down so that I can have her pick them up (teaching moment).
The computer room is also the junk room, which always makes me cringe upon entering. We were going to move, so I have boxes of random stuff sitting on the floor. Scooter, our long-haired tuxedo cat is sitting on the guitar case containing my fender, returned from the Camper tour. It has become her special little place. She stares nonchalantly as I walk past her and sit in the chair. I have to move the mouse slightly to get the computer to wake up. After a few moments of whizzing and buzzing, the screen comes to life and I see an image of Pancho, the big-headed Mexican Buffet character reaching a hand out toward a cat-costumed Zoey, with my father smiling down at her enthralled face. Zoey loves this picture; actually, she loves Pancho, because seeing Pancho means playing on the computer, which she loves to do.
I check my gmail. Nothing. I begin my morning ritual of reading the Yahoo news page, then the Chronicle, then Buzzflash. I quickly read stories about a Palestenian/Israeli cease-fire (amazing, if it lasts), how the superbowl halftime show was boring (I watched more of the Puppy Bowl), and learn that Brittny is suing her insurance companies. I learn there may be a layer of diamonds on other planets and imagine how this might refuel the space race, that worms on fishhooks feel no pain, that 129 GIs received bills instead of final paychecks, and ponder the significance of a number of articles I decline to read (there’s a baby with mermaid syndrome? I wonder what that is, but don’t care enough to investigate). Dean is the new DNC chairman, but I don’t really care. There’s a great new column out by Paul Krugman on the social security issue. I agree with it completely.
There is no sound in the house. The quiet is glorious.
(This entry inspired by Squid.)
The computer room is also the junk room, which always makes me cringe upon entering. We were going to move, so I have boxes of random stuff sitting on the floor. Scooter, our long-haired tuxedo cat is sitting on the guitar case containing my fender, returned from the Camper tour. It has become her special little place. She stares nonchalantly as I walk past her and sit in the chair. I have to move the mouse slightly to get the computer to wake up. After a few moments of whizzing and buzzing, the screen comes to life and I see an image of Pancho, the big-headed Mexican Buffet character reaching a hand out toward a cat-costumed Zoey, with my father smiling down at her enthralled face. Zoey loves this picture; actually, she loves Pancho, because seeing Pancho means playing on the computer, which she loves to do.
I check my gmail. Nothing. I begin my morning ritual of reading the Yahoo news page, then the Chronicle, then Buzzflash. I quickly read stories about a Palestenian/Israeli cease-fire (amazing, if it lasts), how the superbowl halftime show was boring (I watched more of the Puppy Bowl), and learn that Brittny is suing her insurance companies. I learn there may be a layer of diamonds on other planets and imagine how this might refuel the space race, that worms on fishhooks feel no pain, that 129 GIs received bills instead of final paychecks, and ponder the significance of a number of articles I decline to read (there’s a baby with mermaid syndrome? I wonder what that is, but don’t care enough to investigate). Dean is the new DNC chairman, but I don’t really care. There’s a great new column out by Paul Krugman on the social security issue. I agree with it completely.
There is no sound in the house. The quiet is glorious.
(This entry inspired by Squid.)
7 Comments:
"Mary's Morning Commute post is a fine example of descriptive narrative in action. A crucial read for anyone seriously interested in the morning activities of a beautiful new mother." - Kilian Sweeney (author of Squid, a Morning Commute Blog)
wait - you WERE going to move. are you guys staying here? - Cathy
For the time being, we're staying in Houston. The job in Colorado didn't pan out, and besides, it's very cold there.
and the cold is hard to handle (even in athens only at 38 latitude!) after houston (30 deg lat).
pretty good post.
btw, i like Krugman a lot, although i read the Times less and less, since we left the states (but still got quite a bit from it thru the herald tribune). It's incredible how clear he is... in a previous column he links to a longer paper, where he has more space for his arguments. Since the column is offline (unless you pay), here it is for those interested.
Great link, Ph! The more I read about the so-called Social Security "problem" the more I wonder how the administration is going to pull off their little scam. And with a sinking feeling, I worry that they probably will succeed.
considering the red states are full of rural poor white folks who don't gain anything in gov service or economically from this administration yet voted for it anyway because they're worried the terrorists might hit downtown Beeville OR because the country is going to hell if gays get married I think you're right Mary. If Bush tells them it's broke, the moral majority won't question it. The only hope is that many red state republicans aren't backing his plan.
this is such an important issue too.. hasnt the current administration done enough already to ensure the discomfort of several generations to come? my hope is that the am people (and politicians, good point killy) will "draw the line" here.
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