Yesterday I spent some time reworking the opening for the memoir and plotting the first two, maybe three chapters. When I spoke with Rob about it later in the evening over tea as we sat on the deck, I discovered that perhaps my husband is a secret author because he was very diva-like in his dismissal of my ideas for opening the book and him picking up with the third, maybe fourth chapter.
“I have more to say than that,” he said.
And this from a man who was so lukewarm the water had a layer of ice on top about the idea of writing the memoir with me in the first place. Ownership is a powerful thing.
Aside from that the day went screaming by with swim lessons and massage and as you can tell by the lateness of this post – not much else.
I wrote about the Henry Gates thing today. I don’t personally believe it was a racist incident unless by that “they” were referring to Gates’s misdirected tantrum. I do think it illustrates just how close we are to becoming the type of society that is free in name only. The officer in question clearly abused his authority because he lost his cool but in my experience, authority figures seem to believe they don’t have to suck it up and deal like the rest of us do.
I found this fascinating and exceedingly creepy article via my Twit-stream about something called 2-d love. Beware. It’s a NYT piece and they seem to think we should sign up before we can read their pearls, swine that we are.
Dee finally turned seven for real yesterday after a month long celebration with various groups including her school friends, grandmother and great-aunt and the immediate family Sunday night. She is awash in new toys. Toys are like tribbles.
I am may be back later today. So check if you have the time.