2005 Notebook: Weak XXXV
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28 August 2005
No. 6,917 (cartoon)
I don’t want to talk to you for the foreseeable future.

What does “foreseeable future” mean?


29 August 2005
Dots or Feathers?
“Dots or feathers?”

That’s the question Johanna asked when I mentioned an Indian friend of mine.

“Feathers,” I replied, then added, “Do you ever worry about getting in trouble for that question?”

“Hell, no,” Johanna replied. “Anyone who worries about saying what’s on their mind is already in trouble.”

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30 August 2005
Unsound Guy
“I’m Derek, the sound guy,” the bearded guy announced when I arrived at the studio to photograph Tijanna’s band’s video session.

“I’m David, the unsound guy,” I replied.

Derek and I worked on our appropriate sides of the fence, and a very loud time was had by all.

31 August 2005
Renée’s Timer
I gladly accepted Renée’s dinner invitation. Renée’s not the best cook I know (and neither am I), but there’s more to a pleasant epicurean evening than good food. And so it was that we were well into the second bottle of wine when I asked when we’d eat.

“The pizza’s in the oven,” Renée replied, “I’m just waiting for the timer to go off.”

A few minutes later, the piercing shriek of fire alarm interrupted our conversation.

“Dinner’s ready!” Renée exclaimed.

A couple of minutes later, Renée and I were eating our slightly charred dinner. I was tempted to suggest that she not use a smoke detector as a food timer, but decided not to broach the subject. After all, no one likes to be told how to cook.

1 September 2005
Tonguing Fiction
Talia accused me of lying when I told her the story of the crazy cat trying to nurse a hairball.

“Did you already read about it in my notebook?” I asked.

“I may have,” she replied, “I don’t pay much attention to your little stories.”

“You do know that I sometimes fabricate tales, don’t you?” I continued.

“Of course,” Talia responded.

“I wasn’t lying about the cat, just now,” I said, “but it might be fair to say that I was penning a short fiction piece with my tongue.”

Talia squinted, then huffed.

2 September 2005
Wine Pill
Greta inquired about my penchant for cheap wine, so I explained that it it had to do with function, not money.

“Galileo alleged, ‘wine is sunshine held together by water,’ but I disagree,” I said. “Wine is just an excipient, a delivery mechanism for alcohol.”

“Do you mean that you’d stop drinking ale and wine if you could take a cheap, tasteless alcohol pill?” Greta asked.

I usually have a quick answer for everything, even if I know it’s wrong. In this case, though, I was thoroughly perplexed.

“I’ll try almost anything once,” I replied without answering the question.

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©2005 David Glenn Rinehart