profile

I was up early today and did my usual evening run/walk before the sun was up over the treetops. It was cold, with the sun blinking in my eyes and making me blink back. Colder in the shade. I'd thought I'd warm up sooner and was wishing I'd worn gloves. I saw some of the other regular joggers and walkers, more clothed than I was. The white-haired woman with her birder binoculars and her matching white terrier...the two housewifey types always in jeans... I noticed a large black and white cat in the top of a young water oak, casually balanced and swaying on one of the few thin gray branches. Enjoying the view. And then a moist flyby from a friendly pair of collies, a sable and a black, who wanted to taste my cold fingers...

I used to cry at the end of every Lassie episode. The old black and white version, where at the end of the program during the credits there'd be the clip of Lassie looking at the camera holding up her (his actually, 'cause she was always played by a male dog) paw in a one-way handshake. The music was so sad. Lassie looked so lonely. I'd cry every time. Dad would come into the den whenever he heard this music coming from the TV to look at me and laugh. He knew I'd be crying. Growing up, Dad called me Sarah Bernhardt. But I wasn't acting.

Rented: Ghost World....where losers can be sexy and teen angst can be beautifully authentic.

previous / next