TCBIM is lounging on the couch, watching the opening night of...no, not hockey. Not football. Not the World Poker Tour. Not even House. Are you ready for this? Are you sitting down?
The opening night of the New York Philharmonic, live from Lincoln Center. It's Dvorak. "Look," he says, "It's Yo-Yo Ma." Yo-Yo Ma?? Yo-Yo Ma???! I didn't even think he knew who Yo-Yo Ma was.
Today, when he had a couple of hours between sales calls, he came home. He did some work on the computer first, sending emails and faxing things like busy Canadian bee. The little girls were napping, so I was doing a book review and an entry for a new blog I'm working for - more on that soon. When he was done, he stood behind me and gave me a 10 minute shoulder massage.
He didn't follow that up by asking if he could go on a weekend trip to Vegas.
Or Atlantic City.
He didn't invite twelve people to dinner tonight.
He was just being nice.
Doods. What the fuck?
Alien abduction. It's the only logical answer.