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Like Pie Heaven

September 28, 2004

Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. Not bad at all. Nice to tune in after the past few weeks. Ever since that cruise I took with Mr. Sundberg up in Alaska, I've been on a kind of adventure kick and I haven't had much desire to just sit. Felt like something had been missing for a while there, and it came to me while playing chess with Mr. Sundberg on the Limbo Deck. We need to live a little more, I told him. "A little more what?" he asked. More life, I said. He leaned over and patted me on the arm. "You are so CUTE," he said.

It's not that I mind being cute. Cute is relative. For Mr. Sundberg, it's a term of affection. It means I'm low-maintenance and I make him laugh. Neither of which is bad, mind you. He's pretty cute himself. But after we got back from Alaska and picked up the kids and got home near 10 p.m. and they wanted pancakes which I made but then there was no syrup so we ate them with microwaved raspberry jam poured over and they wanted me to pick out the seeds, I decided I'd like to be high-maintenance for a while. So the next day I went out and bought that trampoline I've been eyeballing over at the hardware store. I had it delivered the following Monday when Mr. Sundberg was on a plane to Texas and the kids were at science camp and I set it up with Ray's help. Ray was the delivery guy. He tried it out for me just to be sure it was safe. I told him to jump a little higher just to see, and he did and started belly-laughing. "Those kids of yours are gonna love this, " he said. It's not for my kids, I told him. It's for me.

Saturday night's show was the first of the season. As Mr. Keillor was talking about the weather in Minnesota, I got my new boom box out the closet (bought it the week after the trampoline), set it on the kitchen table, and cranked it up to ten. Mr. Sundberg was on a sailboat with some motivational speaker friends of his, and the kids were at their cousin Henry's birthday party. The party theme was "Underwater Adventure" which meant when I dropped them all off they were wearing swimsuits and snorkels and fins and the plan was to do the whole Slip 'n Slide thing with cardboard palm trees and tropical Kool-Aid and each kid ended up coming home with a tropical fish but that's a whole other story.

Somewhere during the show Mr. Keillor talked about Paris, and how he went there over the summer and loved it and met someone who had lived there for ten years. Now, I don't know about you, but I have this secret wish to go to Paris on my own and eat a lot of bread and stay up late and climb to the top of the Eiffel Tower. Yes, climb. The temptation would be to write my initials on it somewhere so when I see pictures of it I can say "My initials are right...there" and point and whomever I'd be talking to would say "Ahh..." and nod. But they wouldn't really get it. Who would? Some things just don't have words attached. And it wouldn't be the initials but the feeling I had way up there at the top of the Eiffel Tower that I would be trying to share. And really, only an English major would try, and even then I have my doubts. It's like when I'm out there on that trampoline, jumping as high as I can, not really giving a rip what Mr. Pederson -- who's walking his dog and stops to stare -- is thinking. Because it's one of those dream things. One of those things that keeps you going. Like a new season. Like the whole idea of flying, or visiting Paris, or waking up in an orchard filled with apples and pumpkins. Like pie heaven.

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