January 4, 1995
Last night lying in bed, I was full of talk and energy, and Teresa kept saying, “I’m awfully tired, sweetheart.” I started talking about her etching and how good it is (of course I have no idea, but it looks good to me), and I reminded her that her wonderful teacher wants her to submit her work to shows and contests.
“To you?” she said sleepily, “I already have.”
And this morning it was reversed, with Teresa full of energy, already popped, and me in bed sleepy. She came into the bedroom already in her running clothes.
“I’m leaving. You’d better pop.”
I lay there. “This is popped.”
“No it’s not.” She left the room, and I slowly popped. When she came back I held up my arms like a body builder showing off muscles. “I have popped! (I think it was the velvet underwear that made me do it.)
“Yes, you have.” She started pushing me into the living room.
“What are we doing?”
“We’re doing whatever it is you do when you pop.”
“So, do you get dressed?”
“I guess,” I said, picking up my long velvet skirt from the floor and putting it on.
“Yes, I pop and then I put on my velvet,” she said, speaking as me.
She left, and I made coffee.
The rain is still coming down with a strong wind, and Teresa came back from her run soaked. I told her that I need to borrow her sailor shirt today because anywhere I got today, obviously I will have to sail.