Uterus Is Where The Heart Is

Good news. You apparently have a heart. I saw it blinking at me just hours ago. It's not often you'll get complimented on your heartbeat, but at this point it appears to be your most (only) impressive talent. Keep it up, I predict it will take you places.

No news on the job front. That's probably not good. Good news they want you to have as soon as possible. Bad news they like to hold for Monday. That keeps the weekend suicide rate down. No one wants Saturday and Sunday to get a bad rep.

Anyway, trying not to think about it. In the event that it doesn't go my way I dug out the novel just to see what I'm up against. The good news there is that the chapters I finished and handed in so, so long ago were surprisingly entertaining. The bad news is that they must have been written by someone else. I certainly can't imagine doing it. There's also a dumpster's worth of highly disorganized notes to go through. Perhaps the secret is in there. I'll let you know.

I also got myself a French program. It's not that I care about being able to converse with angry smokers in berets, it's that your mom and I always talked about raising a bilingual child. Apparently learning multiple languages is a piece of cake when your brain is all young and spongy. Later it becomes cement and you wonder how far your child will get if the only foreign phrase you can teach them is, "The white horse horse is under the airplane." Why horses and airplanes are in the opening vocabulary section of a French course, I have no idea. There may be a whole side to French life I know nothing about. Regardless, I wrote a letter in French to a fluent friend announcing my intentions. His response began with "Dear God," and seemed to indicate that he thinks I have some work to do.

But hey, I've got thirty something weeks left and all I have to do is write a book, learn a language, and somehow add like 24 inches to my vertical leap. You have to do everything except grow a heart. I'd say I'm kicking your ass, but you're probably months away from having one.

Au revoir.

Novel - Good as long as someone else keeps writing it
Dunking - I walk like I'm 80
French - Pounding it into cement head