Damn! Where’s the tape recorder when you need it? The playback of last night’s conversation with Mr. Pamela Jeanne would have been a keeper. I’ll try to recreate a portion of it here. It started after two bottles of wine and a fun evening with a smart, funny woman (we’ll call her XX) from my work circle. Without sounding too conceited, she reminds me of a slightly younger (fertile) version of me.
BTW: She has two kids but never makes me feel inferior or pitiable for not having them. I adore that about her. In fact, I think if I could have ever gotten my repro parts to work properly I would have been her style of mom. Loved it when she said candidly, “I could never be one of those moms who — bless their hearts ’cause I’m not one of them — cut paper shapes in the classroom. That’s so not me. I help the school in other ways…”
Here’s the conversation after dinner with Mr. PJ:
Me: I know I’m a tough act to follow, but if I ever get hit by a beer truck, you have my permission to marry someone like XX. I see you with someone who challenges you, makes you think, makes you laugh.
Him: Please avoid beer trucks.
Me: Seriously, you could also marry XXX or XXXX or XXXXX. All of these women are a variation on me, so they’ve got my approval.
Him: Hmmm. (clearly trying to imagine being married to them)
Me: Okay. Who can I marry?
Him: This is a weird conversation (clearly stalling) …
Me: I know I’m a lot to handle…
Him: That’s an understatement
Me: Names, please
Him: Pammie, it’s just it takes a lot of man to well, you know…
Me: I’m that bad?
Him: No. It’s just I see myself as a Ferrari mechanic. Ferraris are beautiful but temperamental cars that need a lot of tinkering.
Me: Damn straight.
Him: When it runs, it runs like nothing else (sighing with appreciation), but when it doesn’t …
Me: (thinking to myself) He is so right — in fact, maybe I should have gone to a Ferrari shop not the RE clinic…
Him: Obama. You can marry Obama. He can play basketball and, well, he’s a lot like me.
Me: And, he knows how to handle hard questions, too…
* * * *
And, when I’m not having absurd conversations, I have a wonderful new project to think about. I’m contributing to Exhale,
“a literary magazine for intelligent people who have lost a baby or can’t make one in the first place.” It is the brainchild of the lovely Monica of Knocked Up, Knocked Down. You can find the submission guidelines here. My first column is one of many essays and contributions now available. Please check the site out and let me know what you think.