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After everything else has been said and done, one thing remains true -- at least for me: that he was a truly great performer and entertainer. I saw him in concert once, many years ago, and the experience blew me away to smithereens.
R.I.P., Michael. Thanks for the music and the memories.
I was in the car with my friends Rudy and Marnie a few nights ago. The radio station was playing old, sappy love songs. A certain old song started, and we sang our hearts and lungs along to it.
The rainy night became even rainier.
The windows were rolled up, but I'm sure that outside, where we couldn't hear, all canines within a 10-kilometer radius inexplicably started howling.
I used to think that love was just a fairy tale
Until that first hello, until that first smile
But if I had to do it all again
I wouldn't change a thing, 'cos this love is everlasting
Suddenleeeeeeeeeeeee
Life has new meaning to meeeeeeee
*mad applause to you if you know where the title comes from, and who said it (and no googling!)
Her nickname is Kitkat, but I call her my mini-me, because she's the one who resembles me the most physically.
When it comes to temperament and attitude though, the resemblance between me and her older sister is more evident. Shy to a fault, preferring to listen than to talk, content to sit unobtrusively somewhere and watch and absorb everyday sightings.
Not so the mini-me. She probably should've been christened Action.
She makes her opinions known, either through speech or body language, or both. And her body language is so very dynamic! Any moment she sits still somewhere, I worry that she's sick. That girl is one heck of a dynamo -- even when she's feeling a bit under the weather. I remember one time when she was running a fever, and her pediatrician asked me if she was getting up and walking. I replied that I hardly ever see mini-me "walk." Most of the time, she runs, or skips, or hops, or sings at the top of her voice, or wiggles her generous behind, or waves her arms. Quite often, it's a combination of several of those things.
She is pediatric poetry on steroids.
She's also the kind of person who can make you shake your head in exasperation or cause your brow to wrinkle in consternation -- and at the same time have your heart feel like it's about to burst out of your chest and shower the world with goodwill-plasma out of sheer love.
She's so very affectionate too. I can't count the number of times I've awakened to her sweeet butterfly kisses on my cheeks, eyelids, forehead, and lips. Her personal well of hugs is seemingly bottomless, just like her wells of laughter and love.
Happy 8th birthday, my baby girl. May your sparkling, buoyant wells never run dry. I love you.
Your Daddy Is Johnny Depp |
 What You Call Him: Old Man Why You Love Him: He's the Mack Daddy |
(Daddy Papersurfer stoked me and I liked it!)50 kilos. That's 110 pounds to you, my Americanian friends.
That was my heaviest weight when I was in college.
Today, I weigh considerably more than that. And earlier tonight, at a reunion with old college buddies, I heard one old friend say, I'm "fucking fat." He hasn't seen me in nearly 20 years (good lord! 20 years!) so I imagine the comparison between what I looked like in my late teens and the present reality is quite an eyeful.
Strangely, I wasn't at all offended. The way this old decades-missed friend said I'm fat was the same way he would've said I have black hair, or that I have two eyes or two legs. Very matter-of-fact. No malice or offense intended. My reaction (crybaby) was so very different from comments made in the same vein by the friends I go with regularly now.
Getting together with old friends you haven't seen in eons is sooo good -- BMI notwithstanding.
