Bits 'n Pieces

Dad's not Dead: Remember that guy from the Bits 'n Bites commercial who said "Every handful's different"? He made me smile because he reminded me of my affable dad. Not to refer to my dad in the past tense. Dad's still here. Here's another reference to dear-old-dad in a poem about my neighbour's cat.

Ode to Phil (when I thought you were dead)

Oh Phil, so fat and spotty,
You reminded me of my dad -
who is not spotty, no longer fat,
but mellow, serene, and funny,
and I like that.

Don't Pull her Finger: Icy and I enjoyed our "Cheer up Crabby" night on the town yesterday. The next time I get depressed I hope it's during the summer. It was c-c-cold last night! We ate at the lovliest wine and cheese bistro, and although it was near perfect, I wondered aloud if Icy and I could do a better job with a restaurant like that. "I don't want to sit around cutting the cheese all night," she responded.

My first nervous breakdown: In 1989 I moved to Montreal and changed my name. I wore cotton skirts and flowery blouses. I studied poetry and playwriting. On days when I didn't have classes I just stayed in bed and did my homework or watched TV. One night I had sex with my landlord. That made me wonder if something wasn't right in my head. When I completed my degree I moved back home and put my name back to normal. Ok, sure, maybe it wasn't a nervous breakdown. Maybe it was just a phase. But it wasn't fun.

My second nervous breakdown: Stay tuned. I wrote a poem about planning a nervous breakdown several years ago. Three women in my office left on "nervous breakdown" leave last year, according to office gossip. Why shouldn't I? I could use the rest.