Yeah, it's overwhelming but what else can we do? Get jobs in offices and wake up for the morning commute? 3.19.10

Strange synergy is afoot. Consider the presence of the state trooper on the other side of the jersey wall at the exact spot on the highway where, in but a momentary departure from the Judeo-Catholic guilt that haunts my waking hours, I pulled into the HOV lane on my morning commute for...10 seconds? 10 seconds at most--just to pass a car on the left. Nabbed. Amazing.

Consider also the little interlude I had at the nail salon yesterday afternoon. Yes, it's just one of those spring in the air things that I feel compelled to attend to this type of personal grooming the minute the temperature rises above 55. And so there I was, bored, waiting, and struck up a conversation with the 7 year-old next to me. I always want to chat up anyone under 3 feet tall in my general vicinity. But Kennedy was a fun conversationalist. We talked about the alphabet, some numbers, and then things drifted into the usual gossippy talk that girls are so good at. We talked about her friends at school, but this part was much more difficult to keep up with than the letters and numbers banter. "Who's your best friend at school," I asked her. "Nora." "Oh, Nora. That sounds fun." "No, not Nora, NOYA." "Oh, I'm sorry. Noya. Who else?" "Marlin." "Oh, you're friends with a fish?" "Marlin's not a fish, she's a girl!" "Right. Who else?" "Heather." "Oh, Heather. Fun." "No, not Heather, HEAVEN." Whaaa? I was momentarily transported back to those strange days in SLC, the nation's capitol of weirdly bizarro names, except if we had actually been there, every girl's name would have had to end in -een, Noyaeen, Marlineen, etc. I'm not even touching Heaven. (Clearly.) Anyway. Things picked back up when we started doing some impromptu charades. We baked a cake, brushed our teeth. Kennedy did this little move that looked like she was playing tennis, but she informed me she was actually playing with her Wii. Kids today. The best was when she broke out into this backward slide across the floor, and I was tempted to say ice skating, but went instead with "You're doing the moonwalk." "Mom," Kennedy yelled across the shop, "She knows the MOONwalk!" But the synergy part was this. As Kennedy was telling me all the words that begin with "f" prompted by my fishface and wiggling fingers, the woman next to me leaned over and smiled and said, "You must be a teacher." I must have given her such a violently odd look that she instantly regretted it. But it was the way she said it: You must be a teacher. The universe just schooled me. I think it actually give me a direct order.