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Tuesday, Sept. 11, 2001 - 8:47 p.m. wearing: Obligatory September 11, 2001 Entry At 6:45 this morning, I was curled up in bed with the cat thinking about how prudent it would be for me to get up early and go in and work on a bunch of status reports that are overdue, when the phone rang. "Hello?" It was Mom. "Sorry if I woke you up, but I wanted to make sure you'd heard the horrible news." I have to digress here for Diarylanders who don't understand what sick puppies Eric and I are to explain what a loaded phrase this is. In the ten years I've known Eric, we've had this ongoing Celebrity Death Thing--I guess a lot of people have death pools and whatnot but Eric and I always try to scoop each other when some star of bygone days goes to the Great Walk of Fame in the Sky. The code phrase is an insistent "Have you heard the horrible news?!" delivered in a Philadelphia accent. Mom thinks this is funny and tries to imitate it, but she doesn't understand that what we're striving for is the deliberately exaggerated Philadelphia accent--she "imitates" Eric in this really inaccurate way that I can't describe other than to say that (a) it's wrong, and (b) that's the tone of voice Mom used this morning to ask me if I'd Heard The Horrible News. Accordingly, I assumed that there was only one possible piece of Horrible News that would merit a 6:45 a.m. wakeup call. "Bob Hope died?" Bob Hope is, as far as I know, still with us. Hey, you have to look for the silver lining. (Obligatory Nina anecdote: I had to tell her earlier, "Just because we're at Threatcon Delta doesn't mean you get moist food tonight.") � 5.2.03--all packed up and nowhere to go yet - Friday, May. 02, 2003 *** Diaryland *** Moi *** Maintenant *** Temps Perdu |