27 May 1999
Thursday
I think that Daniel looks a little like Heidi sometimes.
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My Son, Myself
In our family, as in many others, some of our banter includes comparisons between one family member and another. Often, Teresa is told that she is just like her mother when she turns a certain phrase or makes a tacky, tongue-in-cheek comment. She and I are very much alike in temperament. So much so that I feel sorry for her sometimes. Many times I've told her that she has a choice; she doesn't HAVE to be like me.
Jason's dealings with finances often cause remarks that he is just like his father. Jason actually resembles his father somewhat, especially around the eyes. He does have my irreverence, although his presentation is more like his father's.
But there is something about Daniel, some special bond that he and I have. Our thought processes are similar to the point that we often say the same thing at the same time. We must have some physical resemblance, too. Whenever I went to his school for an open house or a meeting, I would be accosted in the hallway by various teachers with the statement, "You must be Daniel's mom. You look just like him." (That hasn't happened since I got fat; I'm sure Daniel is grateful for that.)
But Daniel just blows me away sometimes. I'm always amazed at his oddball interests and often wonder how he has managed to come up with such eclectic tastes, after all, he mostly lives with his dad.
Here's a little something I nabbed from his on-line journal:
I want to be a cool old person. Like a combination
of my mom and Kwi-Chang-Kain. I want the kids on
the block to come over and want me to tell them
stories, while they play with one or two of my one
million cats. (all named Onyx) I want to know how to
do a lot of cool stuff, things most people don't. I
want knickknacks from around the world. I want passages
and hidden rooms all over my house, a BIG backyard
full of weeping willows and a tree house. I want
people to think of me as "That nice weird old guy,
who still looks hot even though he is old."
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When I was his age (and even now), that is what I would like for myself. I'd have to modify it a little bit . .I wanted to be a cool old WOMAN who sat on the porch (of my cabin in the woods) in a rocking chair smoking pot with my corncob pipe.
I told Tom when he was looking for a house that it must have a tree big enough for a treehouse. (He didn't listen; he bought a house with NOTHING in the yard. By the time our trees are big enough for a treehouse, my grandkids will be too old to appreciate it.)
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I'm thinking of doing some stuff for Diarist.net. One thing I've been asked to do is the EnterView thingie. It looks like it might be fun.
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