“You’ve been carrying that thing around for a while.”
“I like it.”
“You like balloons? Why?”
“I don’t know, I’ve just always liked them.”
Last night we were running short on time. We happened to be up at Bloor and Bathurst, so I suggested we have Hero (veggie) burgers. Pete made a slightly funny face, but it didn’t seem like it was one of those times when he was thinking, “Eiko I don’t really feel like that but I can’t think of anything else so I GUESS we’ll go with your weird and healthy suggestion that doesn’t involve any brown food.” (He’s always awfully nice about it, but it happens now and then.) In fact, he looked sort of gleeful, if slightly hesitant.
Not having the energy to tease out whatever conflicted emotions he was experiencing, I strutted away in the direction of soy patties and onion rings.
After dinner, I asked Pete what he’d had for lunch. He made the same face.
“I don’t want to tell you.”
“Did it involve dairy?” (We don’t usually eat dairy.)
He shook his head.
“Wait. Did you eat…meat?”
“Just tell me.”
“I had Hero Burger for lunch. With fries.”
“You ate the exact same thing for dinner as you did for lunch? Why didn’t you say anything?”
He shrugged. “You seemed so excited about it.”
I’m not sure why he was so embarrassed; this is a man who once ate twelve (12) Pillsbury Crescent Rolls and two (2) packages of Rice-A-Roni in one sitting.
Pete: “If you had to choose the theme song from 30 Rock, Community or Parks & Rec, which would you pick?”
Pete: “Trick question! They’re all great!”
Slightly less existential than last time.
The other day I said to Peter, “Remember when I asked you to choose between Community, 30 Rock and Parks & Recreation, if you had to spend forever in one of them?”
“And we decided Community was too zany to be there long-term?”
“But what did we say about 30 Rock versus Parks & Rec?”
“Oh,” he said, “that 30 Rock was where we should be, because we’re writers and stuff. But the hours would be too long.”
“No, it wasn’t that.”
“Yeah it was, it was about how that would have been the answer before Reiden, but now we have a different lifestyle.”
“I’m pretty sure it was something else.”
“Why are you asking?”
“It’s bugging me. It was something about how the Parks & Rec people would be more like, comforting if we had to be with them forever. But that wasn’t quite it. Damn, I really want to remember.”
“I want to use it as a blog post. I suppose I could just make something up.”
“It’s not like I’m going to hold you to the truth or anything.”
“I really wish I could remember exactly what we said.”
I did remember, later on. And then I forgot again.
“Hey look,” Pete said, handing me his phone. “I missed a call earlier. Look who it was from.”
He’d pulled up a page with a description of a place that offers occupational, physical and physiological therapy. Something Something Rehabilitation Centre.
“So it’s a rehab place!”
“It’s like, physical rehabilitation. Not like drugs and alcohol.”
He took the phone back. “Oh,” he said, laughing. “I was excited! I thought it was someone we knew who was an inmate there!”
“Um, I don’t think they refer to them as inmates.”
“It was their one phone call!”
I had what seemed like a good idea for a post, at 4:00 this morning when once again I couldn’t sleep. I can’t remember what it was now. My dear grandfather used to say, “Must have been a lie,” when I couldn’t remember something. In this case, “Must have been so banal and inconsequential that my brain filed it in the Do Not Retrieve bucket.”
On that note, it’s one thing to be kept awake by a baby — whose job it is to keep people up at night. It’s quite another to be juussst at that point of drifting off to that place that’s not quite sleep but also isn’t the constant yammering of your brain, that dreamscape where your thoughts get a little Alice in Wonderland, and instead of dropping down into the rabbit hole you end up squarely back where you started because of your two whining, extremely annoying cats. Neither of whom are Cheshire.
Poor Peter. He’s been getting up at 5:30 for years (years!) because of them. Well, mainly because of the big one, Yoshi, who never seems to get the fact that cats in the wild only eat once a day. No, Yoshi gets breakfast, dinner and a bedtime snack (it’s the only way we can control his weight), and feels strongly that his first meal should be as early as possible in the morning. And Pete has this weird thing: if he wakes up and then dozes, he gets fuzzy-headed all day and can’t write. So getting up and going back to sleep is not really an option for him.
The cats started in around 4:30, both of them this time, keeping me awake and worrying that Rei was going to wake up. At 4:40 I poked (shoved) Pete and made him get up. I was already exhausted from the night before, when, after agonizing about the end of my (very generous) maternity leave (aside: parents in the U.S.? The six-week thing is barbaric. It should be a human rights issue.), I lay there making packing and to-do lists for our upcoming trip home and even turned on my iPhone to get them out of my head and instead just kept coming up with more things to add.
Rei got up at 6:30 today and wouldn’t go back down, and has been a complete mess all morning. We both blame Yoshi and slightly resent Ben, who’s too dim to realize what he’s doing. Yoshi’s just somehow malicious about the whole thing. Perhaps Rei’s 12-week growth spurt is the problem? More fun to pin it on the cat. He just looks guilty.
I never want to tell people that our baby is such a good sleeper, lest I incur the Wrath of the Sleep-Deprived Parent. But while Reiden may sleep through the night, our cats most certainly do not.
PS: She also hates napping anywhere but on me and prefers that I am in constant motion in a standing position. No rocking chair nonsense for us, folks. Feel Sorry For Me Now!
So I are a cupcake. It was delicious!
Ate, not are
Also, I are a cupcake
“What was the worst decision I ever made?” Pete said to me.
“Probably that time you put protein powder on your cereal.” (It went all lumpy. He ate it anyway.)