Just before the earth moves, no one suspects a thing. After it stops, everyone wants to forget. We handle terrible knowledge by pelting it with shoes and weather and the district semifinals. We counter big ideas with small. World hunger? Game show. Threat of war? Dinner party. Global warming? Basketball. They lie to us all the time, telling us the world is small. "No," we say, "the world is big. And this coat? It's to die for!" Is this right? Is this wrong? Should we spend more time on serious things? Well, I've been thinking about it, and I've come to the following conclusion: Did you see Sean Taylor clock that kicker in the Pro Bowl? What the hell?
She was on the recliner in her robe with her feet tucked up under her. "Did you know," she said, looking at him over the newspaper, "that there are almost 800 million poor people who suffer from chronic hunger in the world?"
He was lying on the sofa in pajama pants and one sock reading a book. "What?" he said, not looking up from his book.
"800 million starving people in the world," she said. "Did you know that?"
"Not specifically," he said, continuing to read.
"It makes you think," she went on, "that we should do something about it."
"Yeah." He turned the page.
"What are you reading?"
"Book."
"What should we do?" she asked.
"About hunger?" He looked over at her.
"No," she sighed. "What should we do today?" She laid the paper on the coffee table.
"Aren't we going to your sister's?" He closed the book and laid it behind him on the couch.
"Oh, right." She yawned and stretched loudly, her robe falling open.
"Rowr!" he growled.
"Don't even think about it." Wrapping the robe tightly around her and tying it shut with the belt, she got up and wandered into the kitchen.
"Too late," he said. "I'm thinking about it."
"Well, start thinking about breakfast instead. I'm starving."
"Me too."
Hello, friends. How are you today?
Later. Love.
