Plum Thumb and All the Good Rum

Do you remember the era of my childhood? It might not have been your era, but that shouldn't stop you from pretending. Just like a lack of company shouldn't stop you from going to the movies. If you do, you'll just end up going online and researching the movie. (Oh these tangents control such vitriol sometimes). Well anyway, my childhood was quite impeccable even though I was a fatty. I remember every thing as so fast, so lush, so green. Looking back, the editor of my youth has opted for extra saturation. 

I remember dropping a toy in my swing set and losing it forever. I remember chasing my sister with a knife. I remember how basketball became cool to learn about once I got my first pack of basketball cards. I remember looking at the back of these cards, disappointed to learn that Patrick Ewing wasn't 8 feet tall. Judging by his flat top alone, I assumed the man to be at least 8 feet tall. I also remember the television show Muppets Tonight. This was a big deal then. The Muppets mattered to my Dad and Dennis Quaid was an amazing host. Who can forget the sketches poking fun  at his infamous Quaid image. Oh boy hardy! 

TV really resonated with me as a child, being a life blood, instilling an attitude of wiseacreage. Because it did so much for me I had no choice but to bestow it the sanctity and love usually reserved for Uncles (especially Uncles who live in the woods. If you're not in jail... HI UNCLE FRANK!"). Every word uttered by the television was  unadulterated truth. This was how I saw my father as well. He told me that you needed to turn on turn signals when merging because they needed to be tested every 5 minutes (or else they'd break). When the Muppets told me that every show would be brand new I believed them. They didn't just say it. They sang it in the theme song. How can one lie in song? 

Every Sunday at 7:30 I gathered with my friend Phil to watch the Muppets, the host, and their requisite arsenal of antics. This was hallowed. Our show was sacred. Until one day. The Muppets aired a rerun, breaking their vow. 

Phil and I turned to each other. Part shocked and wholly appalled. We stopped and stared with drool ebbing down our young chins. Then the following conversation took place. 

Me: What do you think happened? Why aren't the Muppets new?

Phil: They probably made a joke about Israel and weren't allowed on the air. 

Me: Yeah. The Muppets would hate Israel.

I wish I still thought like a child. This wish isn't because I wish I were more innocent. I just wish I were more Israel conscious. 

A Good Life Despite the Absence of Shuttlecocks

For much of the past week I have been spending my nights sleeping in the bed of one Ms. Jessie Spano. She is the bartender who so graciously provided me with medical care after I was viciously assaulted last Saturday night. In case you were wondering, she is everything I feel a woman should be. I feel like this just might be love.

In other news, it rains here quite frequently. It rained plenty when I was living with mother in Chesapeake Bay but it was nothing comparison to this. I cannot fathom how life long residents of this part of the country have been able to deal with this for their whole lives. I know I would be quite depressed. Definitely much more so than I am and as has been well documented on Bring Back the Hindenburg I am a very depressed person.

I have been drinking a bit lately. Only a drink or two each day. The rain gets me all out of sorts, so I often need a quick jolt of brandy in the morning. Something to wake me from my stupor.

Because of the rain and my fear of the bar Jessie works at, I have been spending most of my time lying on her bed reading books from her "bookshelf." John Grisham is a bit too simplistic for my tastes, but I find Sue Grafton and Dean Koontz to be quite to my liking. Bang up job on Life Expectancy in particular Dean. I really do like these page turners, much more interesting than the things I read in high school. Not as time consuming either.

I should probably bring this post to an end. Jessie gets out of class in an hour or so and she made me promised to take her to lunch afterwards. It really is wonderful, this thing called love.

-AASXLIII