Today, while waiting to pay next year's tuition, I struck up a conversation with a mom at Stink's preschool. (As many of you know, this is not a hard feat for me. It goes something like this "Nice sweats... you got them at Disneyland... I just went to Downtown Disney...") Before long, I know their family history, what they like on their burgers, and how many times a week they fornicate. It's a gift.
Turns out she had sex at least twice in seven years (2 kids... I'm quite the sleuth to deduce this). More notably, she was the make-up coordinator for all the Star Trek series and movies for the past 12 years.
After dinner tonite, I came into the office to watch Rex downloading the behind-the-scenes footage of Deep Space Nine.
Later we took a walk to Arcos for lollypops under a star filled sky.
And let's not forgot I had a small brush with Hollywood earliar today as I quickly folded the kids constellation themed bedding so the location scout could take "set pictures."
Perhaps it's a forced connection, but I am sensing a shift in the big dipper formation. Yes, I am seeing a giant, twinkling, M.P. - as in Mama P - in all it's glory sparkling in the sky for me as a beacon of salvation from the routine of the Valley heat.
Then again, M. P. could stand for "More Poop."
I'll take that, too.