Morning Stuff

i am a jerk. this morning, the alarm clock went off at 7 and micah said, "my throat hurts". i said "it's just morning stuff, get up". morning stuff. do you remember mom saying that? remember being a kid and not knowing how t.v. works, how a bill becomes a law or why your dogs (who are mother and son) hump each other-- but knowing for certain that you are sick? and then remember telling mom, to which she would reply, "it's morning stuff, get dressed"? i knew i was a jerk the second the words came out, but i felt like a bigger jerk when micah stumbled home early from work, clearly ill.

while micah "cowboyed up" (another phrase i am ashamed that i have employed) and got ready for work, i enjoyed the last moments of the press conference announcing that presidents bush sr. and clinton are joining forces to raise private funds from citizens for the tsunami victims. i don't see how bush sr. could talk any citizen into doing anything, but presidential heartthrob clinton, is a different story. say what you will about bill clinton. yes, he is a cad; he did disgusting things. he is a liar. he's a cheater. but he is a great communicator. i don't mean orator or speechmaker, i mean that he knows how to communicate. there he stood, flanking our current president and i could hear his small, raspy, lilting voice through his eyes. this is what he was communicating to me: (note: the following will only work if you read in your best bill clinton voice.)

"good morning. can you believe this guy? oh man, did you hear that? he had to pause before reading the word 'catastrophe'. heh, heh. he's a good guy though. his wife has a sweet backside. what are you doing later? let's have brunch. i'm staying at the hilton under the name don juan. that's funny, huh? don juan. that was chelsea's boyfriend's idea. he's a good guy. his sister has a sweet frontside."

i did pay some attention, though. the plea for donations made me think about how we were raised in regards to charity. it wasn't encouraged; in fact, it was kind of discouraged. whenever we got a letter from a missionary, mom would say it was tacky. she also would go on about how much she liked that our church did not pass around a collection plate. mom and dad have given of their time with volunteer work, so i shouldn't knock them all that much.

after falling back asleep to dream about my brunch with a former president, mom's not-lilting voice on the answering machine interupted my grits and mimosa. round two, ladies. i encourage you to not entertain her questions about "being crazy". (note: this will only work if you read in your best emily's "serious" voice.) "crazy" is pretty derogatory. she is unbalanced, sick, she has a problem. her behavior needs to be referred to as anything other than "crazy" or else she will not take it seriously. she thinks i'm "crazy", and we all know that she has never taken me seriously. honestly though, i don't really think there is anything anyone can say to help, save tell her she has a bad case of "brain morning stuff".

until next time, this is Crazy Emily, screening all calls, having telepathic conversations with former president bill clinton, and nursing my husband back to health. good day.