/ Fridayum

Sometimes I think that if I just start talking about any subject in particular something wonderful will eventually come out, and the best days for testing out this theory are Fridays because with the gradual dissolution of my office I am invariably the only one here. But I also used to firmly believe that if you only spent some time with me, you would eventually fall hopelessly in love, and I know from experience that this is certainly not true and as far as I know, no co-worker of mine has ever even batted her eyes at me. Plus, today, someone else showed up to the office, and I must either whisper my wonderments, or hold them inside until she has to use the restroom. I keep asking her if she wants another diet coke. She is teetotaling me into submission.

We did talk about similar dreams, though, both of which involved events real and imagined. I dreamed I came into a wood and a great, white owl landed in the tree in front of me. It then decided to fly right at me, and as I reached for my camera, the goddamned thing beat me into a pulp. Without even the hint of a segue, I then found myself on an airstrip watching a plane take off, and I thought, ‘It’s going to crash,’ and sure enough, the thing went right back into the ground as soon as it got airborne, and I laughed because what kind of an idiot tries to fly a 1978 Trans Am? But out of the dust, the Trans Am started speeding towards me, and I was sorry for laughing because the guy got out and said something like, ‘How about the two of us have a contest? The first one who dies is the loser.’

She dreamed that she was in a car with our boss headed along a mountainside and they were suddenly faced with an overwhelming flood. Apparently our boss said, ‘Don’t worry, we can make it!’ and they were promptly swept away. This is actually happening, so my dreams win because they make no sense.

At last, I couldn’t help it and I blurted out, ‘CAN YOU KEEP A SECRET?’ and no sooner had I said it, she said, ‘I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE GOING TO SAY!’ and it was a great relief to know that I am not the only one to have inadvertently surprised our co-workers who have been going steady right under our noses. We all talk to each other with a mixture of wonder, curiosity and barely suppressed horror. The minutes seem to fly by. They both have dates tonight with their spouses, and they asked me about any movies I’ve seen lately. I lied and said they should see The Bucket List. I have no idea what it’s about. I have a poor record picking films. Movie theaters are for making out. I cannot understand how IMAX is in the black.

Tomorrow I am caucusing, and I was THIS close (holds hands wide apart, but I am not very tall, so it’s a mixed metaphor) to getting Alex to join me, because she recently switched sides and it had nothing to do with a foot massage AT ALL, but then she asked, ‘Will people talk to me about politics?’ and I said, ‘THAT IS A POSSIBILITY,’ and I barely rolled my eyes a bit and you could only hear my whistle if you are proficient in the upper ranges, and she said, ‘No, thank you.’

Our daughter exploded into the kitchen at that moment because I had her governor removed at birth and she is unstable at speeds below 70 miles per hour.

‘What do you want daddy to buy you for your birthday?’ I asked.

‘A root beer,’ she said.

She said it so sweetly and earnestly that for a moment I thought I might have a real chance of living forever because I could feel every cell in my body antioxidize. I would give anything to be able to make someone feel that hopeful about the world just once in my life.

This is what I think is terrific: adding a few mangoes, some fresh rosemary, a bottle of jarritos and maybe something slightly exotic like the latest issue of Architectural Digest to the top of my grocery basket just so the other people in the check-out line can see me giving the middle finger to mah horizons.

It is one of my best qualities, and like most of my best qualities one I almost never display. In fact, I can’t think of a single time I have ever added mangoes and rosemary and jarritos to my grocery bag just to seem more urbane. I can’t help it! I don’t know how to talk to women! Or rather, I don’t know how to talk to women without talking too much. Yesterday in a meeting, the facilitator said the best advice she ever received was never to say anything on your first day. Later she asked me if I had any questions and I took her advice and said, ‘I’m really more of a listener,’ while making it plainly aware that I was making a conscious effort not to stare at her breasts.

Probably not one of my best qualities.