Sunday, November 30, 2003

Sometimes I envision myself in a future where picket fences and beach houses are the norm. I will have an accountant husband (non-drinker/smoker; loves his job; keeping his name; previously divorced; likes handcuffs in bed) and prodigious children (one boy; one girl; a year or two apart; witty and wise beyond their years), whom enjoy playing their instruments with clarity and ease. I the piano, he the drums and the little ones, acoustic guitar and clarinet, respectably. On Fridays, we would have family jam sessions, like the Von Trapps, sans the sensational escapade into the Swiss Alps from the Nazis.

I'd dress my girl up in Chloe and Chanel, but never spoil her with trips to the local spa or a Cabriolet on her sweet 16. My son will either be a social outcast or gay. One or the other, honey. But either one would be fine. I'd lean towards the latter, if only to hear from him, "Ma, flip-flops with crisp white Ralph Lauren capris are like, totally, Frank Sinatra without his fedora: so not belonging to this century." Ah, the apprentice has become the master ... *tear*

They'd also fluently speak at least 3 languages, like me. A fourth coming from their bilingual father. We'd travel to various countries and continents, collecting exotic mementos and displaying them in our study (what is that?). Instead of cavorting with the locals during the annual debutante's ball, I would whisk my family away for a night of clambaking revelry by the bonfire. Viewing the constellations through the vintage telescope and waking up to the sun rising above the watery horizon is followed by alone time, reading The Art of Travel by Alain de Botton by the crashing waves and endless stretches of sand.

Oh man, this sounds way too New Haven, Connecticut. I see myself as a more Manhatten, NYC-type o' gal. Promiscuous sex and yeast infections? CHECK! VIP lists and prenuptial agreements? ... Check. Parties to club openings and getting raped on the catwalk at Studio 54? ........ check? Both sound less than appealing, though more so, the latter option. Hold me, I'm scared ...

I'm not superstitious but I think I might've just jinxed myself from ever living a good life. Like the saying goes, "Speak of the devil, and he doth appear."