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I must have a metal plate in my head. Or an antenna instead of an ear drum. When I’m in bed, lying on my right side, my left ear picks up all sorts of sounds that my right ear doesn’t. Last night I tested this. I thought I heard people talking, a woman laughing, music in the distance and radio static. Or maybe, as Michael suggested, I’m just going nuts. This late in the winter, he might be right.
Me: “Reese, wanna do my Turbo Jam workout with me?”
Reese: “Is it cardio?”
Me: ” Yep.”
Reese: “No, I could never do that. It’s too much performance.”
Michael tried pad thai last week – of his own volition – and liked it. Go out for Thai food with him soon before he forgets he likes it.
Kohl’s has good shoes – and the princess underwear that Reese really wants.
Three minutes – not two, like the cookbook says – is a really good soft-boiled egg. Three-and-a-half minutes is gross. Three minutes – perfection.
Reese (3 1/2 years old): (sniffs at Liam’s neck) “Liam-Boy, you smell very fresh! Like soap!”
Liam (1 years old): “Oogiebuh. Tickletickletickle!” (giggles)
Reese: (turns to see me standing in the doorway) “Oh. Hi, Mom. We are playing and speaking very nice together!”
In the Midwest, I think, we sense an oncoming storm. It’s easier to do this on the prairie. We have less to distract us from what things may come. We batten down our hatches, lock ourselves in, and wait to see what unfolds outside our living room windows. I think this is happening tonight. We’re waiting for the snow. Probably the last of the season. There are not many cars on Dodge Street tonight – the few of us that are, are getting home.
A spectacular three-quarter moon hangs low in the cloudless sky over the city tonight. I saw it while driving south on the western edge of town. The color of a wax bean, it looks like a coin being pushed out of a hole in a pocket. It seems heavy, not floating but falling, right out of that pocket-hole into the neighborhood below.
A plane flew right below it just now, its trail of exhaust highlighted by the lunar glow, underlining that moon like some cosmic pen. I’m waiting for snow under this clear night sky.
