On Thursday night, after leaving a simply appalling work holiday party (crowded bar, greasy food, limited drinks, snarly bartenders), I had a bit of an incident. I was about one block from the bar and crossing the street when I was hit struck by a bicyclist speeding down the street. The impact knocked him off the bike, knocked me to the ground, and I'm still nursing a minor injury to my left hand. It was a perfect end to a lousy party.
My kids think this is the funniest thing ever. They start laughing every time I mention it. Theo's first question was, "How was the bicyclist?" Grumble grumble. I'll give you how the bicyclist is.
Ashes came home from college, and she did end up on the Dean's list. Has a 3.7 GPA. I'm proud.
One of the things she returned home with was a gift from her psychology professor. It's a book called "Flow," and it's described as a look at "what makes for a genuinely satisfying experience," that shows us how "we can discover true happiness and greatly improve the quality of our lives."
"Can I read it?" I asked her, a few days ago.
She looked dubious. "It will be scary to see you all blissful."
"But can I read it?"
A shrug. "I was planning to get around to reading it..."
"Then I'll read it until you get around to it." I clapped my hands, gleefully. "This is great! I've always wanted to really live 'in the moment.' Now I can, and you'll get to experience it with me. Oh, Ashes, you'll see me in the moment and I'll be all in the moment and it will make me so happy and you so happy and you're going to look back on all of this and say--"
"I wish he had died earlier," she interjected, totally deadpan.
I have to admit, her comic timing was perfect.
Ashes went to her therapist this morning. As she was going in, I mentioned to the therapist that she should talk to Ashes about something. "She knows what," I said knowingly, referring to the events of last week.
"I skillfully managed to move on to another subject," she said with pride an hour later, as we headed to my Stang.
I think that perhaps answers the question of whether it was all genuine or not.