My husband is concerned about the Grammies. Michael Jackson, he explained, can’t be reincarnated because he’s being kept in the TV. If he didn’t have that much TV presence, he could go ahead and be born somewhere else and move on with his existence.

My husband says things like this sometimes. He usually doesn’t begin by announcing that he has some wild idea, either. He’ll casually remark, in a conversation about smoking, that dead people only smoke at parties. Or, seeing a Michael Jackson tribute commercial, “They shouldn’t keep him in there.” Even after all these years of consternation on the part of his family, he continues to behave as though we shared a frame of reference which includes a spirit world.

#2 son was chatting with me yesterday about Descartes’s arguments in favor of God, and he felt he had to preface it with, “You know Descartes?” but my husband will toss out a comment about the unwisdom of building large houses (the spirits of the trees you use get mad at you) as though it were common knowledge. God is part of our shared frame of reference around here, and since I know that my husband was brought up as an animist back in his native country, random spirits probably should be, too.

It makes me think of this person who forwards me weird right-wing emails. Jokes about American servicemen committing torture. Exhortations to refuse to give our ethnic heritage on the census because the government will give all the good stuff to areas with people who aren’t white. The assumption apparently is that we recipients are all white, and perhaps all in favor of torture.

The person who forwards me this offensive stuff seems perfectly nice. I meet her sometimes at church. Now that she’s been sending this stuff to me, of course, I feel completely creeped out and probably shrink back from her. Presumably, she thinks we share a frame of reference in which the stuff she sends me is normal discourse, and that I’m shy.

Yesterday didn’t include any downtime, actually. I had a couple of new assignments — one I’ve completed, and the other required negotiations with the Computer Guy and is waiting for the client to approve the fees — and was still grading papers at 9:15 last night. I still have more to grade this morning, too. Then my chocolatier has more stuff he wants to discuss. I tried reducing his fees and explaining that I thought he should head in other directions with his marketing, but he still wants to chat with me a lot. I shall have to raise his fees back up — he’s currently paying less per hour than my teaching job, and that’s my rock-bottom price.

But I did, upon receiving a check (I was able to buy some of the boys’ textbooks, thank God), stop at the bookstore after the bank and look at the new knitting magazines.  And that’s why I have pictures of this pretty sweater: I saw it in Interweave Knits. I’m almost through with the first sleeve of Slat Peanuts. Under normal circumstances, I’d be looking for a new pattern. Since Salt Peanuts is taking me a year to make, though, I won’t need a new pattern any time soon, so I didn’t buy the magazine. It is pretty, though, isn’t it?