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Monday, October 17, 2005 right now it's like I've got two wives. got a house guest, fleeing an alcatraz-like relationship in B.C. Pam's best friend. I'll be sitting at my desk. Pam phones. "uncle," I'll say, "I don't feel like cooking tonight." (everything's fun the first 10,000 times you do it and every night I cook two meals: one for kids, one for grownups: that's 14 a week, I'm like a short-order cook). "don't worry, Dave," she'll say in her usual sweet & understanding manner, "I'll get some take out-- maybe a burrito from burrito boyz?" (awesome burritos, best in city, sick with guacamole & jalapenos) and I'll be all "sure, what a relief, bring it on." then Houseguest phones. "Dave tell wife number one [she says, joking] to forget the burritos I'm gonna cook tonight." and she does-- she's all atkins, no more white bread, pasta, etc. and it's great, we still drink wine, eat cheese, but the pounds drop away (this so far, I realize, looking down at the sack of high-carb potatoes I've been carrying for about 15 years, is still rather theoretical, but I believe, I'm a believer). she cooks. it's all fish and dressing and oil etc. a salad nicoise is the prfect atkins dinner-- which is what we had the other night it was perfect, the little red potatoes providing just a whiff of carb, tuna not from a can but seared to perfection in jacques pepin's mustard-garlic-oil vinaigrette... ...and I realize this is what has been needed in this house all along: three adults. pam's got her job, I've got my writing, then there's all the cooking and cleaning and someone's got to eternally walk the freaking dog. but with a third person it all works: one cooks (usually me), one cleans (me or pam of house guest-- heretofore to be known as h.g.) and h.g. has taken over the dog-walking activities. the dog was always the straw, the thing we couldn't handle, now h.g. does it-- so I actually had time to sit down and help nick w/his homework, french test, and feel like I had enough time and I didn't have to pressure him to hurry and when I don't hurry he loves me more. usually I'm kicking his ass: "hurry up nick, get your clothes on, eat your breakfast, we're late for school." and, understandably I should say, he begins to hate my guts. but with h.g making coffee, pam getting them dressed and me making breakfast it all works like clockwork. three kids and dog suddenly makes sense. no longer like we're drowning or even just treading water. starting to swim, all towards our various goals. wish h.g. could stay forever. but she may have found job and apartment, all in a day. today. h.g. is resourceful. it's with a tear I will bid her adieu. been in a lot of "kerfuffles," aka tempests in a teapot lately. why do I ever open my mouth to criticize my fellow creatures? they're all better than me, I always wind up apologizing. I should simply celebrate the fact I am lucky enough to know such interesting characters and let them have their heads. if, like the finest racehorses, poets, and chefs, they are sometimes a little temperamental, I should merely smile quietly to myself and enjoy the fact I have such talented and volatile friends. as I am always telling my friends: "do not get into disputes with each other. 99 percent of people in this world would not even get your jokes, would merely stare at you with blank incomprehension, so fasten [as Polonious says to Laertes] your good friends to your soul with 'hoops of steel' and never argue, never get mad." why don't I take my own advice? it's good advice. why do I ignore it?
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