And the beat goes on

Bubba rings.

"I heard you just got off the phone with YogaGirl," she says, excitedly. "You ready for the roller derby? Yeah!"

She is talking with the speed of giddy sleep deprivation.

Bubba, Bubba, Bubba... I say.

She issues forth a few musical beats, the porno soundtrack of her life. She begins to tell me about her hot, steamy affair. In detail.

In psychology, we often consider diagnoses in terms of the "intensity, frequency and duration" of the symptoms. This is, for my afternoon's delight apparently, also the nature of information Bubba decides to share. Some of Prince's music comes close to describing the situation.

When she rang, I was on the verge of falling into an oblivious nap, having been up until past 3 the night before and having awakend around 8:30 to help The Debutante move. So I am there, on the edge of sleep, having just read a Pablo Neruda poem that always makes me think of my unrequited loves ... and Bubba is pouring grease on the fire, shall we say.

Her story moves toward molten lava as she speaks about a particular point where you've had enough, but not quite enough, so you keep on going, "...and then my body just went limp. I mean, I could not lift my own arms and -- huh? oh, do I need to check in?Yeah, yeah. ... No, just an oil change. Oh ... UCM, I need to take care of this. I'll call you later."

With the background noise I'd been hearing, followed by the strange break in her conversation, it became clear to me that some of this molten lava had been oozing forth from our sweet friend while she was ... in the waiting room of a Jiffy Lube.

You all do know, right, that I could totally work *that* line over until it's raw. But why should I do all the work for you. Go forth and imagine nasty things on your own.

All I can say is: Bubba, Bubba, Bubba....

Heh.

.. So, earlier in the day I did something productive. I helped The Deb move. Back before XGF and I split, The Deb lived just down the street from me. When I moved out, I stayed in the neighborhood, so The Deb and I have periodically socialized, run into each other on the street or at the grocery store, gone to concerts in the local park together.

And now she's gone and moved across town, over near where several in this cast of characters I write about go to school.

I'm bummed to lose her from the 'hood, but she and her man-boy and little Bonnie Blue Butler needed a place of their own, rather than living in someone's basement.

And she's got a cute little place. Everything in the kitchen is brand new. Granite countertops, all these stainless steel appliances and a GAS stove. I am so jealous of that gas stove, man. I'm no culinary master or anything, but I do prefer cooking on gas.

After we unloaded the truck, The Deb and I spent a few minutes trying to figure out where to put the furniture. The space is *small,* but we came up with something that seems to work. And because BBB is just four and was away at school when we moved everything, we spent some time setting up her room in hopes it would make the rest of the chaos -- the move, the boxes, the strange new place -- all a little easier to take.

It's probably a good thing we did that, too. Because later, back at the old house after we'd had a bite of lunch, I went down into the basement to help clean up. BBB came down there and looked at the empty main room. Then she went to her old bedroom. I was standing nearby when she walked in, and I heard the little girl gasp at the shock of her empty bedroom. Instinctively, she clutched her chest.

We put all your things in your new bedroom at your new house, I told her. She turned and looked at me, wide-eyed. Your bed is there, your turtle chair is there, your chalkboard is there. Everything is there waiting for you. It's a nice new room.

As the look of shock subsided on her face, I thought: Well, it's about time I got *something* out of that Treatment Planning for Kids class.

'Cause, like, for two weeks, I've been reading about how to talk to children. And for a good 10 months, I've been watching, S2, a real master of making *useful* conversation with young kids, talking to her children.

My motto: Watch and learn. Read and learn. Then try it youself.

Seemed to work.

At least I've stopped making kids cry all the time.