My niece Dee happens to think I’m the bee’s knees. This,of course is not true; I am but a mere mortal with a gift I wield skilfully,crafted by the gods themselves. 😀 The other day,we were having dinner,and I was reiterating my complete lack of desire for a tSN Jr. As a woman who craves little tykes clutching at her fingers,her obvious reaction was to gasp in shock and shake her head at my obvious wisdom deficiency. Then we talked about what we’ve been up to. “insert my name here,” she said, “Your life is so full. You live it with a big spoon.” I laughed,then went home and thought about it.

The idea of living life with a big spoon appeals to me. (regardless of the fact that I think that that phrase should read eating life with a big spoon,because if you’re living life with one,so what? You go around looking stupid with a gigantic spoon in your hand. Um.) I do like my life now. I enjoy it. If the world does end tomorrow…I’d be good. But. It would be brilliant to be living life with what the Luo call an agwata. I don’t know what that word is in English. Calabash? Gourd? (does that not knowing the English conversion make me more of an African? How about the fact that I don’t actually know what calabashes and gourds look like? Do you hear the Lion King soundtrack in the background,or Madagascar? But I mean really,what makes one an African. Some Ethiopians have decided that they’re not,because they were never colonized. So they call everyone else slaves. Even the beggars.)

Dee says I can have babies and then she’ll take care of them all through their formative (read annoying) years. That appeals to me on a strange level. I could totally do that. I’m seriously consid-no I’m not. I was though. Could it be? Is there a chink in my supposedly impenetrable armour? Must. Fight. Temptation.

So yeah. Life is good. But watching Glee has made me remember a childhood dream I had..if I wasn’t a writer,I’d love to be (other than a sexologist) a singer. Lead. For a cover band. Music is so transcendent. Very little moves me like music; not even words or poetry can make me cry. There was a point that my lifelong ambition to be John Legend’s backup vocalist. Or be on Broadway, in the black version of My Fair Lady. sighs