Doris Lessing!  And thanks for my books. 

#1: I love you.

#2: You were right. It was Naomi Klein you were trying to think of, not Naomi Wolfe which is what I said. You heard her on NPR and I said ‘Naomi Wolfe!’ and you said “No, it wasn’t her.” Then later you came up with the name and told me — ‘It was Naomi Klein,’ — and I said, ‘I told you Naomi Klein, you never listen to me!’ But today I remembered that the name I’d given you was Wolfe, not Klein, and so you were right.

My apologies to you, to everyone named ‘Naomi’, and to anyone who wasted time reading this post.

Update: Email just in from A. –

So. A.’s either calling me a liar (i.e., I never even said Naomi), or it’s true he never listens to me.

Cast your vote here. Champagne cocktails and vote count at 5:00 sharp on Bill’s Street. (Come to the backyard, the painters have the house taped up. Bring an umbrella.)

“Will it even fit in the Envoy?”

“Oh.”

I saw the low full moon Saturday. It was neat. I was watching King Kong, by the pool, on my big giant screen. I fell asleep.

By the way, come see a movie! Details posted later.

While you’re waiting, read a book. Here’s the University of California Berkeley’s summer reading list (selected by faculty and staff who teach freshman seminars), published in 1995.

1995. What were you doing in ’95? I was living in suburban Philly. I drove a brand-new black Camaro (which I totalled in ’96) and was about to meet A. (who I married in ’98). If it was November of ’95 I was in Atlantic City, in fact. Bored stiff at a credit union convention, on a business call at a pay phone (we used pay phones back then!) A. was three phones down, he needs space when he talks. This was the first time I saw him, arms flying around, hand-talking on a pay phone.

That has nothing to do with reading or summer, but is the only thing I remember from ’95.

Anyway, last year here’s what you, the maddening crowd, said to read:

Teresa DiFalco dot Com’s Summer Reading (2006)

[Tomorrow I'll be married nine years. I know what you can get me, A. -- a good waterproof book. Thanks.]

For filling the water all the way up to the top on the Keurig B60 and for not getting mad when you caught Scruffy in bed this morning. He was whining, he was really really sad!

[By the way, how long are his timeouts, a minute for every month?]

Come home if you want, today’s scheduled activities are tennis and swimming. Shuffleboard on the lido deck.

A., go see Scruffy today! Chin Poo, bottom row. More gray than blonde. Unlike me.

Everyone else, shake up some martinis and listen to this. Yeah, baby.

[Big bonus prize to whoever finds link to my favorite Roger Angell essay, "Dry Martini"; The New Yorker; don't know date. Chop-chop, get to work.]

Senior got a couple of hits last night and now he’s too busy to talk to me. Listen, A., you don’t “Igottago” me, I “Igottago” you. Capisce?

I’m working on my Outdoor Friday Movie list. You can come over if you send me your favorite movie to watch outside in the summer. Think Bryant Park, Monday nights.

[Note: Production is delayed on "We're Out of Butter," the eggs are holding out on contract negotiations. Until further notice I'll post reruns of "It's Your Turn to Put Them To Bed," my breakout hit series from last fall.]

I know you secretly don’t think I do anything, A., so here’s one: I’m dropping the van off at Andy’s tomorrow, he’ll have it ready to go end of day. Van issue handled.

Now I’m going to take my vitamin and lie down, I’m exhausted.

P.S. knock ‘em dead tonight.

[You, too, can see A. suited up and hitting long balls at Joe Dancer field in Mac, 6:00PM sharp.]

The ants came back, A. They’re on the floor and I’ve had it. I can’t run around shooting up Anthony and his friends all morning at laser tag (nice timing) and be expected to trot home at night to mop up ants.

I’m going on the treadmill right now then we’re off to Night at the Museum at 3rd Street Pizza. I simply don’t have time for the ants. Or the mop. Or any sort of cleaning tool, or even dinner, while we’re at it. Your best bet is drive-through on the way home. I’m taking time off.  I’m taking a sabbatical.

Meanwhile, Hey, everyone else!  Julie Nipp starts playing Fridays at Nottingham’s Bistro tomorrow. In Sherwood. Don’t miss!

A. just called and said, “I’m getting the tickets.”

Then I said, “okay.”

Then he said, “okay, I’ll call you back when I get the tickets.”

Then we hung up.