Notes from underground

Dear Marc, what a horrible Monday. We're all sick and we're living in my parent's basement. You can't tell from the outside that we live here. But the coughs and feverish breathing may give us away.

It's like when I went to see a friend of mine who had just delivered her 3rd child. The whole family had moved to a new house because they were now a big family. The new mom showed me around the newly renovated house. It was perfect. Immaculate. They were just putting the last finishing touches on the spotless, modern, child friendly kitchen.

I was impressed. Then she took me down to the basement, a grim little hole of a place with concrete floor, a rough table and a microwave.

"Of course, this is where we've been eating for the past 3 months" she said, offering an insight into the family's Anne Frankian days of hiding, not from Nazis, but from renovation.

For three months, dinner planning had all been about what tastes ok straight from a can or from the microwave.

We're not quite there yet, but almost. My dinner tonight consisted of one small yogurt, one slice of cheese, 3 crackers and an apple. My mousy appearance has obvious origins - eat like a mouse, look like a mouse.

Must finish article about Madonna. Having trouble focusing. Can't stop wondering what happened to America's champion grocery bagger who was set to guest Letterman the night Madonna didn't leave the stage. Back in '94. Did he or she ever get a 2nd chance? You know how much some of us dream about a Letterman chance.

What did you have for dinner tonight?

love
-e

ps. That top picture is not from our home. I just put it there for inspiration. I think it looks so cosy, just like how I imagine the dwelling of Jerry the mouse. Or is Tom the mouse? The mouse of Tom & Jerry.