My cara spoza, Diane walks timidly into my "office" (more like a French cave) and checks the mood. I slouch, sullenly, in my chair, fingers flying over the keyboard as my eyes bore into the screen. My usual posture.
But, since I'm not growling invectives, as usual when I'm working (actually, I just got comonadic streaming primes working, so I was rather well-pleased), she essays the breach in my concentration. She tapped her pencil to her notepad and did a half-twirl.
Do you notice anything? she asked.
There she stood, gorgeous, as always, in an ankle-length dark-blue skirt and a blouse that complimented her beauty. A heart-stopper, as always.
No. I responded, confused.
She gave up. Men! she probably thought.
I got dressed to go shopping at Costco ... she hinted, helpfully.
Me: Oh, ya. You look beautiful. as I returned to my work. But she wasn't to be deterred. As always. So she returned to tap-tap-tapping her notepad, which I discovered was her shopping list. She rattled off her items — it was she that was going shopping, not I, so the list had a rather domestic theme. We've agreed to give a go to making sandwiches for lunch, so she asked after my luncheon meat preferences.
Turkey, ... and ham, slipping the latter in wistfully. But her reaction took me aback:
Nitrates! Nitrates! Nitrates! she fumed as her pencil beat time with her accusations, and she stamped her foot with displeasure. God, I love this surprising woman! She's so beautiful when she's on one of her crusades. Good thing she's always on one; and good thing we're not in France, as they treated her sister Jeanne d'Arc rather badly. But then before I could entreat, she surprised me again:
We'll get honey baked ham, instead, and freeze the excess. She was pleased at her inventiveness, and she shouted out with laughter at her victory over the dreaded nitrates. She has the regal bearing, insight and intelligence always to be pleased with her pronouncements.
I couldn't have dreamed this turn of events (Diane is pleased that she's getting me honey-baked ham?) suiting me better, so I played the smart guy and kept my mouth shut. Yeah, that is possible for me to do, okay? Back off.
Well, she was on her way with the kiddies, and I wasn't going to get any more work done with all the requests for "huggies", and playing Olé as a charging bull with the tykes. The children must be appeased. But then, of course, as I set them in the Mommy van, Elena Marie got all dewy eyed:
Papa, please, please, please come with us shopping! Ugh, my heart absolutely melted and ended up limpid resting on my left kneecap. Diane could barely contain her delight at my torn expression.
No, sweetie, I've got to do work after I do DDR. As I replied, Diane's impish look froze into a mask of horror:
I thought you said you had work to do today! She accused, and little Isabel immediately dove-tailed her own question:
Papa, are you going to do DDR all day and all night? and my negative response of:
No, sweetie, I'm just going to do my regular workout had Diane snort derisively. Huh! I don't think my workouts will take that long, so I tried to reassure my cara spoza &mdash It's DDR3, I think, I soothed, so after I do my workout and Rock Lobster, I'll get right back to work ... unless it's DDR4, then I'm going to do Waka Laka. Her nonchalance was instantly replaced by tender concern:
Please, take care of yourself and take it easy. she requested. I guess my little show-n-tell was still a very present echo in her mind.
As soon as they were out of sight — Bye! the children shouted, Bye! Bye! — I turned back to the house thinking about how I could form a relation between enumerated types and transitive types using Gödel numbering.
Yup. Just an ordinary day.