I Am Funny. I Am Pretty. I Am Good.

The kids in Grace's Kindergarten class had to make a card for their families. My second favorite thing about Grace's card is how Grace is in the "B" Kindergarten class (KG), so the code for her class is KGB.

My most favoritest thing about the card is where she wrote, in severely spelling-challenged English that I have corrected for this post: I love you. You are funny. You are pretty. You are good.

Here's me being good. Right before I had a lapse and threw Savannah in the lake.
And it's true. I am all of these things. I could write a whole book on how I am funny, pretty, and good. It would be a thick book, and on the cover would be a picture of me juggling whoopie cushions, posing for the cover of Good Housekeeping magazine, and feeding Gerber baby food to someone who just got their wisdom teeth out, probably a teenager who is really good at video games. And inside there would just be lots of stories where I'm funny and pretty and good.

I remember once when I was funny. My girlfriend and I were at a nice Italian restaurants with a group of our college friends. I ordered spaghetti, because I couldn't pronounce anything else on the menu (except "garlic," which I pronounce the proper Slavic way: "gar-lich," which means that we can add "linguistic" to all the other superlatives that describe me). Then, while we were eating, I announced to everyone that I was going to eat my spaghetti in slow motion. It was probably the funniest thing ever in the world, with the exception maybe of when the Soviets called their first satellite Sputnik, which is funny because to me it brings to mind a potato wearing a beret and reciting Leonard Cohen lyrics. But my girlfriend didn't think that me eating spaghetti in slow motion was funny. I knew because she said "Stop it. That's not funny." But the funny thing was that it was funny.

Once when I was pretty was when my sister dressed me up like a pretty girl. I was six, and she said she wouldn't take me to the movies unless I let her put make-up on me and dress me in femme clothing. Even then I was a shrewd calculator -- I said okay. But even then she was smarter than me -- she dressed me up and then didn't take me to the movies. It was just as well. No good movies came out in 1985. Except Back to the Future. And The Goonies. And Spies Like Us. And Police Academy 2. And Pee Wee's Big Adventure. And Rambo. And Rocky IV. Why did Sylvester Stallone ever have to stop being in his mid- to late-30s?

There have been a ton of times that I was good. Once, when I lived in Syria, I was crossing the street and this little old lady was also crossing the street at the same time. We walked next to each other across the street, mostly, except she walked a little faster than I did, because she may not have been all that old, now that I think about it, maybe 40-something. But still. And I said hi while we were walking. She also said hi, and then when we reached the sidewalk, she went home and so did I. I think I really made her feel good for walking her across the street, and I'd be surprised if she doesn't still remember me and how good I was that day when I helped her in her time of need, namely, blocking the sun so that my shadow shaded her ankles.

Wow. It's really kind of mind-boggling how funny and pretty and good I am. Grace knows her stuff.