Hey Nostradamus! By Douglas Coupland

"I forget that sometimes. Me, of all people. I take things too personally." He went quiet again, then:
"How are the boys?"
"They're downstairs, wasted on sugar. Kelly from next door gave them KitKats, and I could just throttle
the woman."
Reg was fishing here. "Reg," I asked, "would you like to come over for dinner? It's five o'clock already."
He paused just long enough to make a dinnertime call seem casual. And so he's coming tonight for
dinner, around eight, and I just heard one of the twins crying downstairs . . .
Saturday afternoon 6:30
Sometimes I think the only way to deal with turbocharged kids is to give them even more sugar and lock
them in a room with a TV set. As I know zilch about kids, this is my first (and last) means of coping, and
it seems to work just fine.
I was setting the table when I heard a cartoon bird character on the TV squawk - and suddenly I was
back on my first official date with Jason. I thought I'd jot it down here quickly.
The day after we met, Jason and I were headed to look at birds in the pet shop at Park Royal - he was
thinking of buying a pair of sulfur-crested cockatiels - but in the store I had a rapid-onset itching fit,
allergies, and I had to get some cortisone for my elbows. I work as a court stenographer and am
somewhat in public all day, so my skin needs to be in relatively okay shape, and lately my eczema has
been a real problem.
So we were standing at the counter at London Drugs when I burst into tears. Jason asked me what was
wrong, and I told the truth, which was that it was the most unromantic beginning of a date with the most
lovable guy I'd ever met. He told me I was being silly, and gave me our first kiss, right there in line-up.
He didn't get any birds, but he did buy me three small, anatomically correct rubber frogs, the size of
canapes, who soon became Froggles, Walter and Benihana, three more characters for our imaginary
universe.
I must be coming across as a basket case here. Frogs and giraffes and . . . Well, we all create our
private worlds between us, don't we? Most couples I know have an insider's secret language, even if it's
just their special nicknames for the salt and pepper shakers. After a while, our characters were so finely
honed that they could have had their own theme parks in Japan, Europe and the U.S. Sunbelt, as well as
merchandise outlets in the malls. After his life of silence, I think that our characters were Jason's
liberation.
And now I think I have to start preparing dinner. God bless Barb's copper-bottomed pots and her spice
rack of the gods.
Saturday night 10:30
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