Wednesday, June 2, 2004

A few evenings ago, under a pensive summer sky, Muse and I were having dinner when conversation dropped into thoughtful silence. All around us the waiters–so conveniently imported from France–buzzed with a busy chatter, flitting from table to table in an earnest attempt to please the patrons. It was one of those days when the ownership decided to move the tables outside, a misguided gesture ultimately more appealing to mosquitoes than diners.

“What are you wondering about?” asked Muse suddenly. “I’m almost positive it’s not about the food.”

I pushed my plate out of the way and sighed.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ve just about given up,” I said, turning to her. “Can’t say the same for the mosquitoes, though.”

I took my napkin, fidgeted for a few moments, and spoke my mind.

“It’s been more than a year, you know,” I said quietly.

“Has it been that long? Hum. I guess time flies, especially when you think you own it.”

Unfortunately, that was more perceptive than I’d care to admit.

“Har har, very funny,” I said as I pushed my plate a little further. “Do you remember the little red yacht? The island?”

“Sure I do,” she replied. “Virgil, Homer, Twain. ‘How can it flow?’ I’m glad I came along.”

“Me too. Wouldn’t have traded it for anything in the world. Well, a couple of days ago I–“

“You want to try for another year, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I said, trailing off into hopeful silence.

“So do I.”

And that’s just another way of saying I shoved $19.00 into Verio’s mailbox to prevent them from redirecting this domain name to some graphic dollmaking site. I shudder at the thought.