After I went for a run, I came home and sat down to writer. Chitunga and I discussed a number of household things and then I said to him, "My hair must look ridiculous. Here I am talking to you and offering my two cents, and you must think I'm a madman."
I went into the bathroom and grabbed a comb and came back to talk with him. "I'm not sure how many households would understand our world," I said to him laughing. "But yes, I use your Pic to comb my hair."
That's the bond.
I also had to laugh because I remember when all my students carried Pics in their back pockets and the Danes came to visit. They wanted to know what they were, and of course my students told them they were Pics. The Danes would then laugh because they said Pic was the name for male genitalia. They coined the term Pic-Head, and I now realize that I was always destined to be an official Pic-Head, too.
It is rare that Chitunga and I are in the same room at the same time, because our schedules are completely opposite. He works as fiendishly as I do and when he's home to study, I'm usually at the University. When he's off to work, I'm usually at home preparing for the next day. He eats dinner at 11 pm or later, too, and I'm always up at my coffee between 6 and 7 before I leave for the day.
I asked him, "Do you say oh, crap when you see my car is in the driveway?" knowing that if we're both home I'll probably want to catch up. He admitted that he does. I told him, "Truth is, I sometimes say that, too...but there are times when I come home and I see your car is there, too, and I simply am happy. Not all the time, because I have work to do and I don't want to talk, but most of the time."
When I sent him this photo he said (with a smily face and cool glasses), "Look at the chin hair!"
Ah, I remember that pride, too, until the shaving ritual gets old and cumbersome.
This May thinks it is February and it doesn't feel quite like Oaks in Connecticut. Even so, I am thinking of my Kentucky friends and wishing all a great Derby.
I went into the bathroom and grabbed a comb and came back to talk with him. "I'm not sure how many households would understand our world," I said to him laughing. "But yes, I use your Pic to comb my hair."
That's the bond.
I also had to laugh because I remember when all my students carried Pics in their back pockets and the Danes came to visit. They wanted to know what they were, and of course my students told them they were Pics. The Danes would then laugh because they said Pic was the name for male genitalia. They coined the term Pic-Head, and I now realize that I was always destined to be an official Pic-Head, too.
It is rare that Chitunga and I are in the same room at the same time, because our schedules are completely opposite. He works as fiendishly as I do and when he's home to study, I'm usually at the University. When he's off to work, I'm usually at home preparing for the next day. He eats dinner at 11 pm or later, too, and I'm always up at my coffee between 6 and 7 before I leave for the day.
I asked him, "Do you say oh, crap when you see my car is in the driveway?" knowing that if we're both home I'll probably want to catch up. He admitted that he does. I told him, "Truth is, I sometimes say that, too...but there are times when I come home and I see your car is there, too, and I simply am happy. Not all the time, because I have work to do and I don't want to talk, but most of the time."
When I sent him this photo he said (with a smily face and cool glasses), "Look at the chin hair!"
Ah, I remember that pride, too, until the shaving ritual gets old and cumbersome.
This May thinks it is February and it doesn't feel quite like Oaks in Connecticut. Even so, I am thinking of my Kentucky friends and wishing all a great Derby.
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