Here is yet another Seinfeldian observation, if you like that kind of thing. Why must children always step on your feet? Particularly if they are wearing shoes and you are not? Viva likes to back up into me and stand on my feet with her little body pressed flat against my legs. She doesn’t stay still, because she is not on a flat surface, so she tends to grind her sneakers into the tops of my bare feet so as not to fall. God love her, she has many other fine qualities, but she just doesn’t understand why this is a problem.
Cute Viva Moment #1,324: Yesterday, I was sitting with Viva in the rocking chair before her nap. She was snuggled into her blankie and talking up a storm. I could catch a word here and there, so I would respond, which almost made it feel like we were having a conversation. It was like having a conversation with someone from another country who is just picking up the language, so you smile and nod encouragingly while remaining relatively clueless about what’s actually being said; e.g., “Oh, potato! Uh-huh, yes, potatoes are nice, you can eat them many ways – oh, tree! Trees are very tall, aren’t they? Are the trees tall in your country?” Except there’s not the attendant anxiety where you’re wondering if you’ve just unknowingly committed to having them and their 14 children move in with you.
At any rate, Viva was so enthusiastic about our talk, that it made me quite happy and warm and fuzzy, so I said to her, “You know, I really like this, talking with you. I really have a good time when we talk to each other.” Viva beamed, threw her head back so I could see her bumpy gums, and said, “I luh you.” And then we hugged like there was no tomorrow.
I know, it’s disgustingly sweet and I don’t care!
But on to more worldly matters. I haven’t said this yet, and I think I should, although pretty much everyone who reads this (among my vast, vast readership) is a registered voter. But PLEASE!! Do not fail us. Vote on November 2. It’s the right thing to do.
Hey, how about those Red Sox? Was that ALCS the bomb or what? What a battle! I have not followed baseball really for at least ten years, but I had to watch this series. Watching it brought back all my irrational childhood “everything-is-black-and-white” rage toward the Yankees. There, I said it. I started out the series really hating the Yankees. But then, as I watched the drama unfold, I gained some perspective and developed a more mature (I hope) attitude toward the rivalry. I don’t hate the Yankees. I’m just sick of them winning, and I’m sick of the ongoing rivalry between Bostonian and New York fans. The Red Sox needed to put the “redheaded stepchild” feeling to rest for the fans and show that they are every bit as good as the Yankees. And they did, quite spectacularly, which was even better and contributes to the overall legend quite neatly.
I am sad that the celebrations in Boston got ugly and, in one case, fatal. But you better believe I am going to be watching the World Series and rooting for Boston. Oh, yes. And I’ll be drinking a Sam Adams (brewed in Boston) while I’m doing it!