There’s a message on my answering machine.
Miss Sasha: Mr. Sasha and I were sitting on the couch, minding our own business, watching something on TV. I don’t even remember what it was. As we watched, our brand new wine glass rack separated from the ceiling and SMASH! There was violence and broken stuff so I thought I’d call. Love you, Mom!
I call back and get voicemail.
Tata: Sweetie, call me back! I’m worried you might be drinking Beaujolais-Villages from jelly jars without irony!
Finally, we’re at two ends of one phone line.
Miss Sasha: Not only did we lose some very nice wedding gift stemware but we also lost a glass I was given in Charleston for doing an event. It was my first big event, and I earned this glass and I’m mad because I worked my ass off!
Tata: Don’t worry, darling, you’ll work your ass off again someday! How are the cats? No one was injured?
Miss Sasha: We cleaned the floor with the wet/dry vac and checked their paws and threw out the food in the cat bowl. They didn’t seem nervous but we were.
Tata: What is that racket? Why are you shouting?
Miss Sasha: Oh, I’ll go outside. My husband is laughing at the Blue Collar Comedy Show.
Miss Sasha: You’re speechless, aren’t you?
Tata: I’ve pictured you in a tube top at a NASCAR race and I need an Excedrin.
In point of fact, Miss Sasha resembles Natalie Portman and would be perfectly beautiful in an ensemble crocheted out of used McDonald’s wrappers. However, I draw the mental line at visualizing my spawn swimming upstream and asking directions from bears. She changes the subject.
Miss Sasha: How’s the blog?
Tata: You know how I say I dated absolutely everyone and it’s become quite tedious?
Miss Sasha: Yes…?
Tata: I’ve decided to go boldly into a new phase of my life.
Miss Sasha: And what is that, Mommy?
Tata: I’m going to break up with people I’ve never met.
Miss Sasha: Will they show up at your place weeping drunkenly at 3 in the morning?
Tata: Not if their husbands and wives find me first!
From now on: no more dating! If I find someone I like, I’ll divorce him or her or it first and if that goes well, we can pursue something more intimate like organizing a food drive for a soup kitchen. After that, there’s nothing to do but set up the Nerf dartboard and aim for Rumsfeld’s nose…