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Yes, twelve

Monday 1/15/24

Founded an organization called The Order for the Proper Use of the Word Curvy. We're a non-profit. We're finding that mostly we just think the phrase, "That ain't it," but all of your donations help and are greatly appreciated.


A friend texted me the other day to say that he had carried things--not specifying what these things were--up 400 stairs the afternoon before, and his legs were killing him. Not 400 straight stairs--the up and down routine. He added that he took breaks and that this activity made him hungry. I pointed out that I don't carry things. Carrying things would definitely make it harder.


Same friend said he was at the mall with a lot of girls, these girls being his kids and their friends. I asked him if they liked him. I'm unsure about how this person would interact with them. Would he be funny? What would he actually say as he drove them here and there? He said, "I assume so, but I don't know. I'm the only dad who takes them to the mall." Not quite what I meant, but fair enough all the same.


The Cowboys do the same thing every year. I think they got me to bite on them a little more this season and I don't know why I made that mistake. I could definitely see Jerry Jones bringing in Bill Belichick, who has made a point to kiss his ass over the years.


Yesterday while running stairs I FaceTimed with my niece, Amelia. I said, "Guess who I picked out an extra special birthday card for?" She said, "Who?" and I pointed at her. Then she goes, "I want card that plays birthday music."


I said, "Look, you little pirate, that's not going to happen this year because I was not made aware of this preference of yours, but the present I got you is so super amazing that it's equal to ten birthday cards that play music. No, twelve."


Then she says, "Twelve?"


"Yes, twelve."


"Okay."


The present isn't actually super amazing, but it's sweet, I think. She's going to be four. It isn't always easy to pick out something for a four-year-old.


I'm listening to Billie Holiday's At Jazz at the Philharmonic right now. The part about this 1945 performance of "Strange Fruit" in the Sam Cooke book is good. Need to get more done with my book A Kiss Always Tasted: Living with the Art of Billie Holiday.


Time for stairs.





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