Our router is dead. No late-night email or blogs or Wikipedia or Facebook or Myspace or Scrabulous or Twitter or YouTube for this usually very-plugged-in household. NO RED ROOM. Yesterday I went to our local Internet café three times; the connection is free but all that herbal tea isn't. Oh, Mr. UPS Man, please come soon. My bladder can't stand it and Annie is being forced to... read.
Our dogs know the command, "Watch TV!" They eagerly follow us down to the room with the big screen. During the summer, Bill teaches nights, I teach days. Actually, Bill teaches days and nights. When he comes home pooped out... (my dad used to say that: "I'm pooped out." When you think about that phrase, how gross.) ... when Bill comes home pooped out, we three humans and two large dogs cuddle up on the futon and watch Weeds episodes on DVD.
Annie got her learner's permit, had her first professional lesson, and now is learning to drive. So far, Bill's been the one to take her practicing, but I'm dreading the day when all eyes turn to me. Does anybody have any spare valium, beta-blockers... oh hell, does anybody have any spare heroin? I'm not sure I can do this without major medical help.
Today marks the halfway day of my summer school session.
Harvey Susser died. I hadn't seen him in over thirty years, but he directed all of the plays I was in at College of Marin, back when I was known as their "resident little girl." When I was eleven years old, Harvey cast me as the youngest of the five daughters in Fiddler on the Roof -- a famed production with a very young Kathleen Quinlan (she played the daughter who loves the Russian) and a very young Robin Williams (he played the Russian). I acted in five or six of Harvey's productions, and this got me through my middle school and high school years. Harvey was brilliant, bombastic, dynamic, and very loving. He changed my life.