Voice Mail Archives

I seem to have alienated certain readers because of my status as an active Yankees fan. I have always maintained that I am primarily a fan of Baseball... I have visited Cooperstown, on what my husband and I still consider one of our most romantic trips ever (I was awed and teary-eyed; definitely schedule six hours at least to tour the hall of fame. What an awesome place.) and I go to every Cape league game I can, encouraging the sport's future stars, and the preservation of a great tradition of high quality baseball on small, accessible, fog-shrouded fields on Cape Cod. In short, I love this game.

Re: previous post about waiting for test results.

Lightning bugs. Tons of 'em. Scads and scads. In my yard, right now. I can't remember the last time I saw one. I don't even remember how they do that thing with the light on their butts -- I must have learned it sometime in science class, right? And is it really a sparkly mating dance that they're doing? I bet it beats cruising the bar scene...

I've been very single-minded these last couple of weeks, repeatedly pacing up and down the same worn-down furrow in the metaphorical rug, chewing the inside of my cheek, muttering inapplicable slogans, laughing spasmodically in the car...

We should've gone to the Cape League game. They didn't get rained out.

The last few nights I've woken up in the middle of these great, epic chase-scene dreams. Consistently, I'm playing the role of the hero of a murder mystery-type story, and elude my nefarious pursuers by using my superior knowledge of the local landscape. Things like where one can hide halfway out the jetty on a certain beach, where the shoreline drops precipitously while remaining shallow on either side just yards away, crafty use of back roads and cut-throughs...

Open letter to Michael Kay (TV play-by-play announcer for the Yankees):

Must be some kind of weird weather front moving through, because I keep getting up before noon and doing stuff. Odd, but I'll go with it.

And what about this:

I guess, like cleaning out an attic or shed, when undertaking even the most modest of home improvement projects, you have to make it look like hell before you can make it look good. Our house looked like ass for a few days, while we got a new roof put on, but now it's lovely -- pale green tiles all symmetrically snugged up against each other, pleasing in their regular spacing. (If you know me, you know that symmetry is super important to me. Like Monk craves symmetry, I crave symmetry. I line up the silverware on restaurant tables as I pass by. hey, lay off. there are worse compulsions.)