Full covention coverage to follow...

...as time permits (sorry, I've been kicking butt at my job this week), but let me say this, forcefully:
IF AL GORE HAD SOUNDED LIKE THAT IN 2000 THE LAST EIGHT YEARS WOULD HAVE BEEN ONE LONG, HORRIBLE DREAM.

Hello, hello

Sorry I haven't been keeping up. I was laid low with a virulent Olympic Fever! More to follow later, but just let me say this:
USA!USA!USA!

Also, Bill Clinton was good at the convention last night, and God knows I'm a fan, but when he gave a shout out to Joe and "his fabulous wife Jane" all I wanted to do was yell, "Eh! Stop thinking about people's wives!" Good president; bad date.

What we have learned

• Higgins is old. Higgins went out crazy-stomp-dancing Friday night to a rocking Bluegrass/Jam Band and could hardly believe that she used to do that around a campfire in the 1000 percent humidity.
• Higgins has been drinking Tab of all things lately. I love it. That super retro can is so much fun to hold, even though my friend says "Tab tastes like robot sweat".
• Higgins is a total hypochondriac who must stay off WebMD. I had a swollen ankle last week, which has to be the most ubiquitous symptom there is. It was either a strain, ill fitting sneakers, or Lou Gehrig's disease. At one point I literally got up from my desk and went to lie on the floor outside of P's office to make sure that I could breathe and talk while lying flat on my back (otherwise, it was congestive heart failure). At first it was only one ankle, which ruled out renal failure; then it was both which ruled out deep vein thrombosis. I have now officially diagnosed it as "one of those things", and have forbidden myself to think about it any further. Especially since I actually called my doctor and the PA said "Why don't you go home, put your feet up, and stay off the Internet before you paranoid yourself to death." They know me so well. Four days later, and even as I type these ankles are as trim as a ballerina's.
• Nothing is as good as your own ice cubes from home in your water bottle.
• Higgins world-famous bar joke about John and Mary and the Tractor that broke down is always fucking hilarious. Always.

Back in business

Okay, I am nearly over my state of shock. I'm not going to write too much about Marlin because I get too sad, but I will say that if you ever followed my "acting career" closely you saw him many times, probably most notably when I was Dulcinea to his Don Quixote. I know, right? We lost something there, folks. I guess I can begin to be a little bit shamefully relieved that I never saw him sick: his voice was such a powerful instrument; it would have hurt very much to see him robbed of it.
He was the only person I've known who had more and a more eclectic collection of books than me. They are now a living library at his church in the mountains. When he was showing thm to me he said "those are books I loved in college, these are history books I enjoy, that's a row of fake spines I keep around so people will think I'm smart." We were friends.

Tomorrow I will be full bore back to entertaining you. Let's start with this: a sentence I read this week that said "before they called them 'alligators' the early morning air was often rent with cries of "Ye Gods, watch out for the Chompapottamus!'".

Chompapottamus is my new favorite animal. The new feral kitty (oh yes, still on the job) is a Chompapottamus, as is the Chihuahua next door. Discovery Channel just celebrated an awesome Chompapottamus Week.

Final point. If that Chinese gymnast is 16 years old, so am I.

All those people.

They are so important. Maybe I don't mean important, maybe I mean significant. Those significant people, those key people, that no matter how much time goes by; sure, they settle down, you move away, you stop calling, you rarely email. You don't make plans; when you see them its awesome but its always by chance. You'll never ever forget them, bu then you rarely really think of them either, always idly, always "I wonder how so and so is?" The connection is special and important, even though you don't stay in touch, even though you suddenly realize my God, has been two years since I talked with whoever? I wonder...

One of my significant people died last month. He apparently had a little bump on hs tongue that he finally went and got looked at. It was a tumor, of course. On one Friday in April they called it malignant and by that Tuesday it was cancer of the tongue, jaw, neck, lymph and both lungs. Immemdiate, aggressive, poisonous chemo recommended, four days a week. There was no hope whatsoever of it having any curative value; merely to give him some little time with his wife and his two children, 7 and 5. They gave him a month. He died a t home July 14th.

I'm seeing mutual friends next week and I'm sure they will catch me up and that we will cry together, but you know how I found out? I was having a slow day at work yesterday and I Googled him.

He was dead before I knew he was sick.

I did not know I was this good a touch typist because I am blind right now. Someday later this week I will write more about my friend, all the good stuff. In the meanwhile, may I take the opportunity to say that if you are one of my seven or eight readers then I know you by name and I love you?

Ass Deep in Alligators

Literally.
Today in our summer events for kids we are hosting a Creepy Crawly Class.
Exactly what it sounds like.
There is a snapping turtle toddling around the formal ballroom right now.
I swear, this place is not all bad.