You are currently browsing the daily archive for January 23rd, 2008.
I work for a weekly publication that arrives in the inboxes of the elite (aka, our blessed subscribers) each and every Wednesday morning. Tuesdays thus are reserved for assembling the issue and, ultimately, releasing it: this latter bit falls to me. Ta da! I’m imagining a light beaming down on me, there’s wild applause, and I’m doing a little curtsy. But I’m getting beside myself.
We publish in-house, in what I have always suspected is an industrial revolution-era workshop somewhere in the basement, where there are heavy metal printing presses, men in ink-stained aprons, and loud clanking noises that permeate the day and night. We send them our proofs before checking out at 5.30, then they stay up all night arranging the little letters on the plates and running them off, manually. Despite these somewhat throw-back conditions, these printing-men appreciate an e-mail letting them know your pages are on the way. I’ve still not figured how this fits into my mindscape, but I’m working on it.
January 23 was our release day (obviously, you say; let’s get to the point!). I wrote the same in my e-mail, but I caught myself just staring at it. January 23, January 23, hmmm, there’s something that looks really familiar about that.
Dad’s birthday.
Today is my dad’s birthday, and I only remembered with about six hours to spare. Shame! On! Me! I actually bought a card a few weeks back, but some sort of disconnect since then has left it to languish in my desk drawer.
My dad, my hero, the man with the plan and He Who Does All Most Excellently. I never, ever forget a sister’s birthday, or my mom’s birthday, or even an aunt’s birthday. What’s up with me, seriously?
I think karma must owe me one, because my parents are up in their mountain house this week. This means that he’ll get my card along with all the others when he returns back home. Unless he notices that the card was postmarked, um, today, he’ll never know. Thanks for that one (upward nod). I’ve e-mailed, and will call, so all seems smooth.
But still. I’ve got to get my act together! I’ve got to make paying attention, living not so much inside myself, more of a priority. Aarg. I really am such a piece of work sometimes; it’s a bit amazing that a man as clever and put together as my dad is so much a part of me.
