14 June 2005 (yesterday) (tomorrow)

 

I lay in bed early this morning, terrified as the day broke and my room grew progressively hotter and hotter-- fortunately, a fan blowing directly on me proved to be cool enough.  Perhaps the Europeans are right.

Dad showed up at my door at 1 p.m. as promised.  I was unprepared, but we quickly set off to get my mattress from Bob's.  On the green line, he told me my sister is getting married.  

June was at the door, she insisted on hugging me.  It turned into much more than a mattress; there were all kinds of little things I had forgotten about.   June insisted that I look at a bedraggled bird in a shoebox; it was flailing and chirping surprisingly loudly on a white towel flecked with bird vomit. 

I spent some time looking for a power cord.  Bob showed up with some of Wendy's baskets.  He was drenched in sweat.  After getting all the stuff I could think to grab, I stood impatiently as my dad made awkward small talk with the Ooghes about the civil war and my creativity.  I was finally halfway down the stairs when Dr. Ooghe started raving about all the paintings I had done.  I tried to explain that I had not painted them but this didn't seem to get through.  I also realized that for some reason, June thought the vintage sketch pad I had scavenged for Wendy's birthday was full of my own drawings...

We drove back up Bedford, and dad marveled at the Hassidim.  I mailed Scarlett's c.d., and we had pierogis at Christina's.   He actually asked me So, Do You Ever Hear From Your Ex-Wife?  I reminded him that she had sworn never to talk to me again.

When he left, he looked tired.