Oh, Mr. Robbins... thank you.

Do you recognize her?

I am the sort of person who does not open my mail for weeks. Pardon me, what I intend is: I do not 'check' my mail for weeks at a time, but as soon as I do, I read it. This tendency of mine extends into the virtual world as well.

Recently I opened an e-mail, sent to me over two weeks ago, which made my day. Maybe I should work on this tendency of mine? to allow the passage of time before acknowledging intention... maybe I am an overly analytical girl.

I am lucky enough, in my life, to share in the experience of friendships which blow my mind. I am lucky enough to have people in my life, who attempt to make my days better; by whatever increment.

Wonderful friend #1 achieved such a feat (i.e, dang great day, 'cause I felt some love) in her mailing me an excerpt of Tom Robbins latest publication. Ms. Gill knows me. She knows who and what I love, and she knows what I've been attempting to accomplish through my With Bated Breath posts. She sent me some material. via hotmail, to muse over. Material she thought I might choose to share.

I've alway been good in the sandbox. I like to share.

Tom Robbins is one of my most favorite contemporary authors. He's not for everyone (who is?), but if you like him, he's not likable; he's lovable. I love his work.

Wild Ducks Flying Backwards is an anthology of brief writings over Robbins' career, in which he offers an exposition of, in his words, the "Genius Waitress."

"Of the genius waitress, I now sing."

Sing Tom, sing.

"As a type, the genius waitress is sweet and sassy, funny and smart; young, underestimated, fatalistic, weary, cheery (not happy cheerful: there’s a difference and she understands it), a tad bohemian, often borderline alcoholic, frequently pretty (though her hair reeks of kitchen and bar); as independent as a cave bear (though ever hopeful of “true love”) and, above all, genuine."

Mr. Robbins has much more to say about the Genius Waitiress, but what do I have to say?

While Tom's interpretation is simultaneously humorous, and poignant; subjectively romantic, and objectively perceptive; he has forgotten something.

The Genius Waitress muti-tasks like a mo-fo. The Genius Waitress has the memory of a thousand-year old elephant. She approaches a table of ten without a pen; she balances her life as precariously, yet efficiently, as she balances entrées upon her forearm.

Grant me arrogance, and understand that I am not an arrogant person. I am balancing a tri-life.

Mother.
Student.
Waitress.

It's tricky. It is rewarding on all fronts.

I'm a genius?
Wowza.
Thanks Tom.

"I celebrate myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you."
- Walt Whitman
Leaves of Grass [Song of Myself]