Posted 10:54 AM by Michelle
January 11th, 2004


I am supposed to be working on a piece right now but I can’t concentrate. I have three framed photographs on the windowsill right in front of my desk. One is two sided, with a young Kent playing cello on the left, and an even younger Steve playing piano on the right. Next to that is a framed picture Sean just sent me, of he and I, and we are probably 6 and 4 years old, respectively. The picture is strangely sepia-toned, and the expression on Sean’s face is priceless. He’s smiling, but his mouth is shut and his chin is all screwed up, like he’s happy, but there is something deeper, too. My hair is in pigtails, and my mouth is spread in a characteristically broad, contented smile. Sean has one arm around my back, the other in front touching my shoulder like a prom picture. More than that, though, he looks so proud, his face contorted with joy and, seemingly, a job well done. He’s telling me, in that picture, that he is a great big brother, and that I am the best thing since spice racks.

Below both these larger pictures is a small metal frame with chipped gold paint and a broken pane. There are two trimmed pictures. The right is Ian, on a bike, holding a flower, basking in Iowa sunshine. He’s not smiling, not exactly. He’s looking at the camera as if to say, “Yep, this is my bike. My flower. It’s a good day. I’ve got stuff to do.” He looks like he’s on his way somewhere, and the flower is an integral part of his mission. Next to that is another picture of Sean and me. He’s on my right side this time, but again, one arm around, other arm this time on my lap. I am wearing a beautiful green dress and matching scarf, which my mom made for me. We are a year younger, maybe more, and my smile is exactly the same. Sean’s mouth is still closed, but this time his smile is a little more confident. “You can take our picture,” it says. “We are cute, and you can record that, but as soon as you are done, we’re outta here. We’re back to our world, where only we speak the language.”

My smile is the same in every picture. I was so, so, so loved. I never doubted love. There was not existence without love. My parents loved me, yes, but my brothers’ love was palpable, ever-present, everywhere. I grew up with four brilliant men, and they loved me. They still do.

You see why I’m having trouble concentrating. I was given so much, and as a result, I feel that I should have done better by myself. I should have done better.

Posted 10:52 AM by Michelle
January 10th, 2004

I have so many stories to tell and I’m too tired to do it. Which is no excuse, really, but I do have to be up in a few hours to return to my workplace where for eight hours I’ll stare at a wall. No, make that six hours. The other two hours I’ll be in the kitchen stealing bites of cheese and nuts.

I bought (with more than a little help) a car yesterday. It’s an ’84 Volvo Turbo sedan. It’s nifty, but I hadn’t driven it for twenty minutes when I tried to clean the windshield and the wipers stopped working. A few desperate phone calls later I figured out I probably blew a fuse. How did I get to be 31 without know that there are fuses in cars? And that they might potentially be changed? I have to admit that I felt pretty manly when I popped a new fuse into my fuse box (cars have fuse boxes?!?) and suddenly I had wipers again. Of course the whole debacle took about five hours, and I had to go to a party wearing Duckwear (our affectionate name for the clothes we wear to work) but at least I have a car. I’m spoiled by my dad’s BMW, but now he gets it back, and things start to settle in my world.

Elizabeth called my car “Easter Egg Blue”. Heh heh.

When’s the last time anyone actually kept gloves in a glove compartment?

My brother Steve drove up for the evening, and we had the unfortunate experience of choosing “Mona Lisa Smile” as the night’s entertainment. I think he enjoyed it more than I did, but I think he also gets a little bit more pleasure from the casting choices. Although there is something about Julia Roberts laughing out loud on screen that is worth the price of almost any admission. Pretty sure she didn’t laugh once in “Mary Reiley”. Oh, god, what a piece of yurk that was.

And why do networks now have to bleep out “god” when people say it in movies? “The Breakfast Club” was on the other day and I only made it through to the scene where my favorite stoner ever, Judd Nelson, calmly looks at the principal and says, “Eat…. my…. shorts.” They blipped out “shorts” and substituted “socks”. I threw my sandwich at the screen and had to take a walk.

Posted 9:33 AM by Michelle
I'm at work, unable to post the last couple of blogs I've written. Soon enough, fair readers, soon enough, or at least as soon as I can get my hands on a functioning land line. Stolen airport internet usually doesn't let me send email or post stuff.

What's up with the spelling of "Healdsburg"? There are a lot of unnecessary letters in that word.