Oscar Wilde Came to Dinner

Oscar Wilde came to dinner but he wasn't expected and apparently he doesn't paticularly like chicken, which I wouldn't bother to mention except that I happened to be serving chicken and he practically threw the serving tray at me. Later he made a point of eating the bed of yellow rice from beneath the chicken and then opening the refridgerator door loudly and closing it. We're officially on for tomorrow as well. You don't think I'd pass up the opportunity do you?

Goodnight to Ernie Wooster

Goodnight Ernie. Death is such an unexpected fate for someone who laughs with half his head. The world will miss you. I'll try to be alive for you, like everyone will. We will try to be a little or a lot better then we were. Just wondering, do you remember the rabbit that ate the buttons off your remote? And remember how loudly I used to sing in the back of your car, like a banshee? You can dream about us and we will dream of you.

A New Year in the New World

It's January again and if not making a resolution at least a time to mention the choice not to make one. But I did make one. I just forgot it. But I remember it like yesterday's dream or a novel I know that I liked and I should probably reread. It's something predictable and shocking, like independence for Ireland. That's the story. A revolution in my heart. Don't be mad. It isn't personal. I can't own my own heart.

I saw a lot of things

But I didn't see Eeyore.

The lake looks better in pictures.

The truth is, when I was there, I thought,'what an unfortunate lake. I wish it felt better.' I held my fingers up in a square to try to frame a section I liked, where you couldn't see the dam or the hikers on the other side or the man asleep (or dead) in his boat.

Trees are Unpredictable

“Trees are unpredictable,” He looked directly at her, as if to challenge her.
“That’s funny, I would have thought just the opposite.” She shifted her weight toward the window.
“No, really, that’s the point. Trees are patient. They might stand in one spot for hundreds of years, a thousand years, then all of a sudden they jump onto your roof. That’s surprising. It’s the element of surprise that makes them unpredictable.”
“Right.” She turned her face away from him and immediately looked for an interesting cloud. She suddenly wished she knew the names of different types of clouds. She only knew that they had names.
“I mean, you aren’t really surprised when a plane crashes, are you? It’s predictable.”
“Don’t say that,” She spoke to the window.
“Why not?”
“It’s bad luck to say things like that when you’re flying.”
“Only if you’re superstitious.”
“No,” She corrected him, “It’s bad luck whether you are superstitious or not, some people are just aware of it and some aren’t. Besides, what about your leaping tree thing?”
“That’s all scientific—just probability,” He smiled, “It’s more probable that a plane will crash then a tree.”
“Don’t say that,” She mumbled uselessly.
“Relax, it’s still improbable.”
“Fine, pay someone to remove the limbs then.” She offered, knowing well that he thought she should pay for it, but not understanding why.
“That’s what I’m saying,” He argued, “You can’t predict which limbs are going to crash through the roof.”
“So what do you want to do?”
“Remove a lot of the limbs.” His emphasis indicated that he was thinking of removing the entire tree from the front yard. The only tree in the front yard.
“You’re impossible.” She combed her memory for the name of a cloud.
“No, I’m possible. Look--here I am!” He laughed.
Jessica studied the white on white on blue of the sky and concentrated on keeping the plane afloat. She wanted to think as little about the trip as possible. Why was she going to Milwaukee and how had her boyfriend come along? How would she carry out her plans with him in tow and what were her plans? She could hardly afford to take a trip like this on a whim, and Milwaukee? In the middle of winter? Why would Peter decide to come along on a trip like that? Did he suspect something? He probably thought she was having an affair. If only it were that simple.
“What would you like?” The stewardess hovered over her.
“Orange juice please.”
Peter held his hand up like a stop sign, “Don’t drink orange juice on a plane.”
“Thank you,“ She ignored him and reached out for her cup, her arm taking a wide detour around his hand. On this point at least she would be immoveable. Orange juice suddenly seemed central to the very core of her identity and she took the first sip staring at the back of the chair in front of her. If he couldn’t understand her preference for orange juice then he shouldn’t be here. The juice tasted strange, maybe overripe or pineapple juice, but she drank it to spite him.

Reincarnation Request

Despite the proliferation of "dead zones" reported today in our oceans I would like to emphatically request that I still be reincarnated as a whale. A really big one. Big enough to swallow someone whole. Big enough to swallow the whole tear-tasting ocean. With a heart the size of a small car.