Debbie Does Drivel

NOTHING ENTERTAINING HERE

Well, my best friend is moving back to Chicago in one week.
I took the day off so we could hang out.
We'll probably have breakfast, move her BBQ to my house, pack her kitchen, eat lunch, eat dinner. Somewhere in between I should tell her a secret I've been keeping. I'm not sure how she'll react. Since it's a secret, I cannot elaborate. I wish I could. But you probably wouldn't care anyway. I mean this in a nice way.

Tomorrow, I have an all-day seminar of "Managing Priorities." I do manage my priorities just fine, just not the ones that work wants me to care about. Maybe I'll return freshly brainwashed.

This weekend, I head to Anaheim for a "Children's Book Author's Boot Camp." I am most swelling with enthusiasm for this. We had to do homework and everything! I had to read "Amelia Bedelia," "Amber Brown is not a Crayon," "All the Way Home," and "Whale Talk." I'm going to bring my fledgling manuscript, "Amanda B., Future Cheerleader." Don't steal my idea!"

Last weekend, I went to the American Cancer Society Relay for Life. I was there all day Sat. and early morning Sunday. My dad drove into town unexpectedly, just in time (though he was unaware of this) the luminaria ceremony. The whole track and bleachers (this was at a high school) was lined with luminarias, each one representing a person who'd died of cancer (we bought these in memory of our loved ones). The lights were turned off, illuminating the whole field, and a lone bagpiper played "Amazing Grace" and walked the track. It was completely silent except for the music.

I felt a little bad imposing this emotionality on my father, especially when he wasn't expecting it, and he had also borrowed my sweatshirt, which carried a large pin with my mom's face on it. I felt a little weird about my stepmom being there, too.

But maybe it's OK. They were drunk. Earlier that night during the concert preceding the lumanria ceremony, my dad had been unruly. Alcohol was banned at the event (though everyone ignored this just like in high school). One of the singers had brought a guest on stage for a duet, and as she exited the stage the singer sighs wistfully and says "She has such a beautiful voice. I want her back..."
And my dad shouts "I want her front!"
Good times at the American Cancer Society fundraiser.

The weekend before last, Lisa and I went out "for a drink." A lot of ballyhoo commenced, with Ner Jersey-ites names Mickey/Nicky following us outside and insisting we visit his "shop," which was located around the corner. Also, one boy told me how his dad had quit his CPA job in Latin America when this guy was just a kid. His dad then took the family to Europe, where they made their money singing on the streets. This man had tears in his eyes when he explained his life story.

He could have been yanking my chain, though. Earlier, I had been telling everyone that I was a second-rate actress, always cast in the "comic best friend" role for productions around San Diego, and haven't they seen "Street Rider?" Yep, that was me. Lisa, of course, arranged the musical scores for movies and was also a classical bassoon player.

So not too much exciting happening with me, although the above impacts my secret a little. A secret which is exciting. To me. But probably not to you.