05/11/04
The Super Wife had to go to the hospital for some additional CEU’s (continuing educational units.) So I walked to Ms. Pikachu’s school to get her myself. On the way home it started to rain. Just before we got home it turned into a downpour. Life could be worse. Life could also be drier.

When we got home I went inside. It seemed the natural thing to do. Ms. Pikachu did not follow. I walked back out on the porch and there she was, under a downspout that sends the water from some of the roof and porch into the driveway. It doesn’t lead all the way to the ground, it just pours it like a waterfall from the roof of the porch onto driveway cement. She was drenched and loving it. I asked her, “Are you happy?” She started singing, “I feel good, duh, nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh, like I knew that I would…” It was funny, yet strange, to have my 12 year-old daughter answer a question with a James Brown riff. She sang about a verse.

Amused, I went inside because the Super Wife had walked to the hospital and I thought that if she wanted a ride home I’d better be by the phone. I could not just drive over there and wait for her; the place has a dozen doors with a parking garage. If somebody offered her a ride I’d miss her. Depending on the door she used I’d miss her. So I waited by the phone like a good Jewish mother. She got home on her bike. Rather beautiful for being all wet, her, not the bike.

I went to the back door to unlock it and put out some more birdseed. She put her bike away herself because she’s self-sufficient that way. While we were talking Ms. Pikachu came around laughing. She said that she had gone back under the downspout and started singing ‘I Feel Good’ again. Some people walking by gave her the weirdest looks. She loved it. It’s probably not going to get any better.

This evening the Super Wife was bushed. It was decided we’d eat at the little Italian place. On the way we dropped off two garbage bags full of toys at the Salvation Army. Two garbage bags full, and you can hardly see the difference. Somewhere along the way Ms. Pikachu got her hands on a little chicken no wider than a quarter. Size doesn’t matter when a manic attack is coming.

As we sat at our table she went nuts with the chicken. “Help me people, I can’t work this chicken alone.” She knocked the chicken over several times. “Aw, the chicken is narcoleptic.” The chicken is finally knocked upside down. Gravely, “Chicken is dead. When their feet point at the sky you know they’re dead.” She turns chicken upright. “Oh, chicken isn’t dead after all! Chicken, did you see a bright light?” Train Boy replied, "I think it saw a train." He was laughing and couldn’t control his root beer.

The kid gets more mileage out of a couple feathers than anyone I know. She’s just nuts, but it makes for an entertaining evening.
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Whine at me: publicserf@yahoo.com
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