All Alone

John and the girls set off for Oregon today (via Narita, LAX, and SFO.) It seems...super-quiet around here. It has been endlessly raining in Singapore lately, even triggering some serious floods. One in particular flooded a lot of low-level stores along Orchard Road (the main shopping street). The Hermès store was fully inundated, up to the ceiling, destroying who knows how many hundreds of thousands worth of leather bags etc. I assume they have a policy of destroying damaged goods rather than letting employees make off with a soggy Kelly bag. One imagines a hecatomb at Hermès headquarters, with high-level employees scattering barley on the unfortunate luggage before consigning it to the pyre. I went by it tonight and it is still closed tight, with signature orange stretched across every window and door.

Earlier, however, it was sunny, and I worked on my tan. It's a tough job, but...um, no one needs to do it, actually, but it's awesome. When I come downstairs and find that the coffee fairy has been there (otherwise known as our new helper Malou; our long-time helper Tena has retired after 9 years working for us to her house in the Philippines) I have to reflect on my privilege. You all please remind me never to complain about anything, ever. (OK, being sick and my children being sick, that's still on the table). But on the whole I have a wonderful, amazing life and am feeling pretty grateful now.

It's John's first time taking the girls across the Pacific by himself, but I'm sure they'll be fine. The girls are seasoned travelers after all. I'll be meeting them in NY and flying back via Frankfurt after visiting my dad in Bluffton S.C. John and I, handing the kids off as we are, each have a round-trip, but the girls will be flying all around the world. Singapore/Narita/LAX/SFO/Eugene/JFK/Frankfurt/Singapore, plus a train ride from NYC to Savannah, GA and back (we're doing the sleeper car thing, which is great fun). It's strange because you have a general sense that your children will be like you in some important sense, but really their childhood is so different from mine that it's incomprehensible.

Comments

[woof]

I hear you Belle.

[Bill Benzon]

Next time you chat with John, Belle, tell him I've sent him an email voicing a strong suspicion about the real-life identity of the Troll of Sorrow.

Go to this link and stroll down to a longish comment by one Seth Edenbaum. That's a real name, of real person, who maintains a blog under thatl and posts comments here and there (e.g. Crooked Timber) under that name. I think he's the ToS. What say you?

[Bill Benzon]

Alas, I think not. While Seth Edenbaum may be a real person, I don’t think that person has much to do with the Seth Edenbaum blog.

Posts at that blog are under the name of D Ghirlandaio, a 15th century Italian artist. And the email address is for one eboetti, an Italian conceptual artist who died in 1994.

So, all I’ve done is associate one pseudonym with another.

I do, however, still believe that this is the person who is also the ToS.

[kharris]

A pyre of soggy purses? Sweetie, I don't care how much grain is strewn atop soggy leather, the gods won't enjoy a single, smokey whiff. What are you thinking?

And yes, your children will grow up to be like you...and no, they won't. Fear that our hopes for them won't be realized is one of the saddest parts of raising them. Good thing they have other hopes.