Mail Call
Hot on the heels of last night’s report on mail, today I received two pieces of mail.1 Damn, that was quick. Talk about a plan coming together. I swear, if I really want something to happen, it will — my powers scare me. Now, if only a gal… uh… nevermind.
The first thing I opened was a letter from a good friend I’ve known for many years. I don’t talk to him nearly enough because I’m an asshole and don’t keep in touch — or so I’ve recently realized and I’m trying to change. I was pleasantly surprised and excited (I might have peed a little) to find the letter in my mailbox; it made my day. Thank you kindly JJ.
He wrote in response to my report on disconnections. I’d like to share the first paragraph because he gives a perfect analogy for what I was trying to say — I hope he doesn’t mind:
I particularly liked your blog entry “Disconnections” (?) and felt prompted to write. It reminded me of some Time-Life science pictorial book that had a story of a baby monkey being nourished by a facsimile of a mother monkey. Except it wasn’t a good facsimile, it was a cheesy rectangular body made of wire mesh with a milk bottle sticking out of it, an approximation of a face and the whole thing covered with a towel. It did not do as well as the monkey with the real monkey.
I really like that.
The other piece of mail I received today was a Valentine’s Day card from my mom. It wasn’t much of a surprise; she sends me one every year. Sad but true, the only valentine I got this year (or any other year) was from my mom. Not that I care about that silly holiday, but… ugh, best not to think about that too much. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful; I greatly appreciate it, especially when it’s a real card, not one of those e-cards, and there is a little cash in it. She wrote a note at the bottom of the card: “Treat yourself to some art supplies — or coffee!” I surely will. Thanks Carol, you rock! (yes, that’s how I talk to her).
My blogging time is up for this evening. I need to go to the art supply stores (aka the hardware and office supply stores) before they close — I have a life-size piece I’m dying to finish. Plus, I have postcards to make, letters to write, journal work to do (Journal #6 is almost done), and a never-ending website redesign to work on. If it didn’t have to sleep or work, I might have time to have some sort of social life — nah, I’d just come up with more projects. Hello, my name is S.R. Wild, and I’m a workaholic. Hey, it’s better than getting stupid drunk or sticking a needle in my arm.
1 If I don’t have your address or you don’t have mine and you think we should have each other’s, email me.