Letters to Holly

Friday, January 7

Once More Under the Sink

She survived jury duty without sitting on a jury. And now she's free of the obligation for two years. I am back at the office as the region once again looks to the skies for a crippling snowfall.

While I was home with the sidekick, I decided to let him play with the bathroom mirror. Instead of patting the reflected image, he yanked on the cord connected to Your Sister's radio, and it tumbled into the sink. The battery compartment holds three batteries, and it popped open. I could only find two batteries, and it appeared the third went down the drain. I set down the baby and pulled apart the drain. No battery. But now I know how to take apart her sink to attack clogs. I should mention that all this happened while the Terminix guy was checking out the house, and I had to move between the baby, the disassembled sink, the panicky cat, and the exterminator's sales pitch for an expensive termite protocol. I found the missing battery hours later behind the bathroom door.

When she got home, we somehow got onto the topic of Solomon Grundy, the bad guy from the old Superfriends cartoon.

He appeared years before in comics. She didn't know the original nursery rhyme from whence the comic creators got his name:

Solomon Grundy,
Born on a Monday,
Christened on Tuesday,
Married on Wednesday,
Took ill on Thursday,
Grew worse on Friday,
Died on Saturday,
Buried on Sunday.
This is the end
Of Solomon Grundy.

I remember him as a swamp zombie, the angry body of a wealthy man murdered and tossed into the bog. Your Sister wondered what brought him back. I admitted I didn't know, and she suggested "swamp magic." "Swamp magic" is now my favorite comic-book origin. Also, it's my new band name.

It was announced during this year's consumer electronics show that the Star Wars movies are going to Blu-Ray in September. While that's no shock, the intriguing information is the inclusion of deleted and alternate scenes. I hope that includes the Biggs Darklighter scenes on Tattooine that provided Luke concrete reasons for wanting to leave home so badly. That would dovetail nicely with Anakin's frustrations at the seeming patronizing by the Jedi council.

Picture of the Day
I found this Esty storefront yesterday, and I'm tempted to buy/make one for Your Sister.

Thursday, January 6


Your Sister was dismissed early from the courthouse, and I set to work.

With a small list in hand, I zoomed to Lowe's and walked blindly through the store. After looking at sink drains (hers is busted again), I was asked by an employee if I needed help. I explained I needed to replace or fix a folding pantry door, and he showed me to a section of the store devoted to parts for folding pantry doors. I had no idea. They had exactly what I needed. I strolled on, guided by the list, and looked at snow shovels. They had but one kind, and it was plastic. That won't cut it. Literally. It won't slice through the ice we get. But they did have a replacement garage door opener, which Your Sister requested. Our door system is almost 20 years old, yet Lowe's had an exact replica of our openers. I also bought air filters.

I grabbed a Wendy's lunch to try out the new seas-salt fries (tasty, very salty) and returned home to get to fixin'. I was done in a half hour. The #!@$ pantry door is finally fixed, and Your Sister has a working door remote again.

I parked her car atop the driveway in case we get snow, but I had to move it away from the mailbox. Our postman wrote on an envelope that he wasn't obliged to deliver our mail if the mailbox is blocked. By "blocked," I assume he means "might have to walk three steps from the vehicle to the mailbox in times of wintry devastation." I thought it rude. I mean, we didn't get any mail for three days prior despite the famous pledge of the mail service to be deterred by "neither rain nor snow nor gloom of night."

As she napped, I took down the tree and minded the boy. I also took another shot at organizing our CDs onto the new iPod. It's not quite big enough. I reckon I'll buy a second one in a few months and rotate them out. I packed up the CDs and stored them in my workshop, and I call that a productive day.

I slept without medicine last night, and I can't remember any dreams. More important, I don't have any emotional seismic activity based on those dreams.

We got only a dusting of snow, and Your Sis is back to the courthouse.

Picture of the Day
Edna Mode is watching you and your hobo suit, dahling.

Wednesday, January 5

Get Me Off the Medicine

She's back to the jury pool, and I am home with the deputy. We enjoyed a relatively normal night with him. Maybe he's getting better.

Last night's fever dream included Dr. Gregory House, wearing a row of metal dentures like tiny cigarette lighters, joining me to visit an old girlfriend and her grumpy husband at Christmastime. I was also a teacher/prop comic who was secretly Superman. I flew off toward France but stopped to fight Lex Luthor in a meadow. I woke up when he sicced a fuzzy brown spider the size of a Doberman on my arm, and I had to throw back the covers to convince myself that no such spider was in the bedroom.

I'm getting tired of these dreams, let me tell you.

Predictions of more snow abound. 

Picture of the Day
A drink and a plane ticket sound nice.

Tuesday, January 4

A Haze of Various Quils

NyQuil got me through the night and back to work, and I am armed with DayQuil, cough drops, tea, and OJ. I don't know if one can overdose on Vitamin C, but I'm taking many a supplement and chugging the juice. I'm on the other side of this flu, and I hope it's gone by Thursday. The deputy is on the crazed-energy side of it and did not sleep much last night. So I heard, anyway. I was in a medicine coma. Your Sister and I are exhausted and sickly and on edge with each other. We immediately take innocent comments the wrong way. I do not want this.

She sat through two jury assemblies and may have to go back tomorrow for another jury pool. She is so far not on the grand jury or the jury overseeing the multiple-count criminal trial. I minded the boy, and he was cranky. He wouldn't sleep without a struggle. Wouldn't eat without a struggle. Wouldn't stay on the floor without a struggle. He was not my friend. If she goes back tomorrow, I'll again stay home with him, and I hope he's easier to handle. I was able to briefly baffle him into inertia by setting him in the laundry basket. I may set him into various containers throughout the day.

Last night's fever dream included me playing Jeopardy in a high-school gym, arguing with Your Sister over what kind of helicopter she wanted, and writing the lyrics to "Be Our Guest" from Beauty and the Beast.

I thumbnailed more of the comic, and it appears I'll be able to add pages to beef up the fight scenes.

Picture of the Day
Beware. A major spoiler follows.

Monday, January 3

Outlaw Fever Dreams

I know I'm bad sick when I have weird dreams.

Last night, I dreamed I was on the commute to the textile mill where I worked one summer. On an overpass, I pulled over and accepted a job application from a man in a car. He was looking for people to warn residents about low-flying airliners. He thought I would be a good prospect because I could read a combination of Latin and Spanish.

Soon after, I decided to take an aggressive stance and steal an airliner. But I couldn't get it off the ground, and I drove it on the interstate. Eventually, I came to a traffic circle, and I took an off-ramp surrounded by tall pier columns. The plane's wings jammed in the columns, and I snuck out an escape hatch. Somehow I managed to blame the theft and subsequent massive traffic back-up on Steve Carrell. The traffic block created a ravaged parade -- think The Road -- as people shambled home and groused about Carrell and the plane theft. I stayed mum. But people started to piece together the crime, and I became paranoid that I'd be discovered. Then Your Sister woke me up. She is currently sitting in court hoping to be excused from jury duty. She left me the makings of turkey-and-tomato biscuits as a sick breakfast.

I still feel like I hold a secret that will be uncovered any minute.

We're supposed to eat buffalo wings tonight, but my throat may not allow it. Or will I overrule the flu? Stay tuned.

Picture of the Day
My head is seasick.