The kids are coming home today, so yesterday Otto and I tried to cram in everything we might want to do before they’re back. The day ended with a trip to The High to see the Dali exhibit, and it was blissfully free of “this is boring”s, “what’s with his moustache”s, and “he’s touching me”s.
At one point, we overheard this:
Her: So you’re a writer?
Him: Yeah, that’s right. I’m a writer.
Her: So what sorts of things do you write?
Him: Well… right now I have a book in editing.
Her: Really? What’s it about?
Him: Oh… you know… just… fiction.
Her: Fiction, huh?
Him: Yep, fiction.
Her: So could you be more vague? About your book about… fiction?
Him: I don’t know, probably.
(They laughed, but I couldn’t help feeling like the woman wasn’t all that amused.)
“Are you hearing this?” I murmured to Otto.
He leaned down to respond near my year: “Oh, it’s DEFINITELY fiction.” We giggled. “First date,” he commented.
“LAST date,” I added. We chuckled and continued winding our way through the crowd, hand in hand.
Otto told me a few whoppers back when we met, 21 years ago. We laugh about them now—talk about how young and stupid and angry at the world we both were, back then—and part of me hopes that someday that couple looks back and talks about that awkward first date at the museum when they stood surrounded by exploding Virgin Marys and he lied about writing a book. But somehow I think his companion may have “accidentally” lost his number at the end of the night.
I’m glad I never lost Otto’s.
I’m glad we had this week alone. I’m gladder still that my babies are coming back.
And GOOD GOD I’m glad that 2010 is just about over.
I’m actually going to make a vision board today, before the kids get home. Because apparently “well this year has GOT to suck less than last year!” isn’t quite the positive focusing of energy I thought it would be. Ahem. So, today: Art project. Reunion. And maybe one more attempt at pizza.
And then 2011.
Happy New Year to you and yours. I hope that wherever you are, whatever you do, you at least have an Otto or a sufficiently Otto-like substitute to make the journey that much more fun.