... proof that the aliens have landed ...
February 24, 1999
6:47 p.m.
Like I said yesterday, I had an Executive Committee meeting last night. It finished at about 8:15, and I got home at about 8:30. So when I stroll upstairs what do I find but Lisa playing with the yo-yo I got her for her birthday last year (romantic sot, ain't I?). This is, actually, a big deal. Lisa has never been able to get a yo-yo to work in her life, but now she's zipping this thing up and down and sideways and every other which way. "See what I can do?" she asked proudly. I was, I think, adequately amazed. I praised her, and proceeded to push Brigid to get ready for her bedtime story. Whatever I did was apparently not enough. "You really don't care about my accomplishment, do you?" Lisa said. The yo-yo went zipping closer to my leg, the hard plastic disk threatening damage with each yo. "Sure, I do, Cutie. I think it's really great." "Now you're just being condescending." I got out of this situation by pushing Brigid to get up. But as we trudged off to her room, I could hear the yo-yo humming evilly behind me. Fifteen minutes later, I had finished reading more of Narnia to Brigid, and I returned to the bedroom to find Lisa still yo-yoing. This, I thought, was getting out of hand. "I'm going to check my e-mail," I said. "Uh-huh," Lisa replied. Actually, I'm not certain she even knew I was in the room. So I go down and check my e-mail. Things get away from me, as the often do when I'm around computers, and next thing you know I've written yesterday's entry and scanned a few of my favorite sites. This means I've been downstairs for over an hour. What do I find when I walk back upstairs? Of course. Lisa, still standing upright, still throwing the yo-yo down. Only now, the yo-yo is literally sizzling through the air. I mean, I swear I can hear tiny sonic booms echoing in the room. She's in that perfect state of zen where nothing matters but you and the yo-yo. A true Yo-yo Ma. "You're still yo-yoing," I said. (I'm quite succinct when I want to be, you know?) "I just couldn't believe it when your mom came in town and could yo-yo. What makes this so fun?" "I don't know. It just is," I say, as I go about brushing my teeth and changing for bed. Five minutes later, I slip into bed, and begin my nightly reading - I'm trying desperately to actually finish a book (I've got this terrible habit of starting a bunch of books, then never finishing any of them). Lisa continues to yo. LISA: "How do you Walk the Dog?" RON: (mumbling between sentences) "I don't know." LISA: (yo-yo whizzing) "I can't believe you're not watching me." RON: "I am watching you." LISA: "You just don't care about me." (whiz) RON: (reading the same sentence twice) "Sure I do." LISA: "Your mom said she has a copy of the old Smothers Brothers bit on Yo-yo Man." RON: "Will have to get it." LISA: "Uh-huh. Do you know any tricks?" RON: (putting book down and turning out light) "Not one." LISA: "How can you go to sleep at a time like this?" RON: "It's 10:30, honey." LISA: "You just don't care about me." By now, Lisa has this disconnected look on her face, and I can't help but start laughing at her. I know, I know, you're thinking that you couldn't have held out as long as I did. But for some reason, this wasn't the right response. Lisa: "You're laughing at me." She finally put the yo-yo away several minutes later and came to bed.   So today, I get home, and there's this look on Lisa's face that she gets whenever she's got something to say, but doesn't know quite how to say it. I went and said hello to Brigid, who was playing this really cool thing on the piano. Lisa followed me in, and when I turned to face her ... ... She came out with a two-fisted Yo. That's right. She's now learned to yo-yo left handed, and is upstairs as I type practicing yo-yoing with both hands at the same time. Don't ask me what got into her. But she looks quite happy. Have a great day, okay?  Daily Persistence is © Ron Collins |
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"She'll have fun, fun, fun till her hubby takes the yo-yo away." Alternate Beach Boys |
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