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January 06, 2005 - 1:18 pm

R2-D2 DEAD AT THE AGE OF SEVEN

Yesterday was my first day back in the office since December the 17th. Nearly three weeks of full-time mommyhood, complete with giggling, sweetness, and �I love you, mommy!� offset by a touch of whining, vomit, �It could be meningitis,� and �Are we there yet?� Throw in a visit from my mother-in-law and a hernia operation for John and you get a pretty clear picture of my vacation. Boy, it�s tough to get back into work!

One of the 27 emails I�ve gotten since I last turned on my computer was from my friend Melanie with this P.S. at the bottom:

P.S. The boys got a robot, they named R2D2. It fell off the couch and broke into pieces... Well I came upstairs and found R2 buried under all my pillows on the floor... Here is a photo of the Headstone the boys made for him.

And then my other funny friend Wendy replied with this:

I told Melanie how much I enjoyed the alternate spelling of Artodto. I had to forward that one to my family, since we have a similar story. My grandfather, after seeing star wars, had trouble with that robot's name, too, and called it Arty Doo-Doo.

Then there's John�s grandmother who loved Magnum, P.I. but referred to him as Magnet, P-One instead. Aren�t grandparents the best?

The kids and I flew down to visit my grandmother in Clearwater, Florida (just outside Tampa) two days after Christmas. Her name is Mary Elizabeth, but she�s been Dissie to her family since she was a little girl. She�ll be 92 in a few weeks and does water aerobics three times a week and plays golf at least once a week. She still works crossword puzzles regularly, although she admitted when I was there this time that she�s getting lazy and isn�t working as many as she used to. When I�m 92, I hope I�m as lazy as Dissie is. She�s married to her third husband because she keeps outliving them.

I don�t think I�ll outlive any of my husbands because I have personal safety issues; as in, I�m not very mindful of my own. I�ve only come to realize this as an adult, but I�m pretty sure it�s been a major theme all my life and is probably due to the fact that I don�t see myself as other people see me.

Here�s what other people think I look like:

And here�s how I see myself:

Thinking back over some of the more interesting, daredevilishly stupid things I�ve had the good fortune to live through over the years, I thought about starting a series of entries entitled �It�s A Miracle I�m Alive� or something to that effect. But after more careful consideration, I don�t think it would be a good idea to tell you about most of those things. You�d either worship me as an immortal or have me forcibly committed to an asylum for crisis counseling. Assuming, of course, that you 1) know where I live, 2) give one rat�s ass about me and my �issues,� and 3) would jet in from wherever you are to come to the aid of someone whose diary you are reading on the internet. Which, I�m pretty sure, would make you the one in need of counseling.

Well, let me just reassure (both of) my readers: I�VE HAD (just about) ENOUGH OF PUTTING MYSELF IN DANGER, AND I�M (very nearly) THROUGH WITH DOING STUPID THINGS. This is largely because of my kids. They need me, and I need to be around and in one piece for them, unlike poor old Arty Doo-Doo. At least until they can toast their own Pop-Tarts without setting their hair on fire.

But don�t misunderstand - I�m not apologizing for my dubious past behavior, however fit for a Tom Waits lyric it may be. I might flash back as a 92-year-old great-grandmother to that time I jumped in the Savannah river at night and pretended to be a salamander while tripping on acid, or that time I had to duck into a camera shop in Istanbul for help when an Islamic man tried to grab me and force me into his car, or that time I tried to eat Roy Horn. But I can assure you I will most definitely not look back on my life wistfully and ask, �Why didn�t I live life to the fullest while I was still able to control my bladder?�

~Samantha

recommended:
reading -How to be Good by Nick Hornby
viewing -The Station Agent
listening -"Black Is the Color of My True Love's Hair" by Nina Simone

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