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Some more about Alex ...

May 21, 2008 - Summer Wallace-Minger
"Why would you want to write more about Alex?" my mother asks me. "He sounds like he's boring. It's not going to get you kicked off, and you know it. Not unless you maybe write 'Alex is boring' for the next fifteen minutes."

Who cares what she thinks? She's on the George side.

Maybe Alex isn't particularly exciting, but he does have the power to get me off of blogging duty. Apparently I'm not the only one who has noticed.

Tuesday, I'm trying to get a paper out. No big deal or anything; it's not like I need to concentrate on what I am doing.

So of course, Jeremy, our art director-Web guy-whatever, calls me.

"Did you get in trouble with Alex?" he asks.

"Whaaaat?" I briefly wonder if perhaps Jeremy has done what I have always longed to do and has smuggled some hooch into the office for medicinal purposes.

"You blogged about Alex," he said.

"Yeah, so?" I start typing again. I'm good at this; if I make a verbal shrug every once in a while, the person on the other end of the line thinks I'm listening to them, and I can get some work done. It works especially well with my mother.

"What did he say?" Jeremy presses.

Damn it, he isn't going to babble on, pausing to let me say "uh-huh" every couple minutes. He wants to have an actual conversation. This sucks. I've got an hour to deadline.

"Nothing," I said.

Alex is very good at saying nothing, but saying it in a way that lifts morale.

I'm not quite sure how he does it. Maybe he's a wizard. I sort of like the idea of him in a wizard's hat with a wand. After all, I ask for stuff and get it, so maybe he's more like a fairy godmother. Or godfather. Whatever.

"I'm going to blog about him," Jeremy informs me. "I told him that, and he said I'd better ask you."

"What? I've got a patent on blogging about Alex?"

"I guess so," he says. Holy potatoes, this conversation could last forever.

"I got to go -- " I got to get off the phone, and finally manage it.

Why is it when I'm in a hurry, someone always calls me, and then they want to talk forever? Someone called once, and I had to go pick up my kids. I tried to take their name and number, but they snarled "I guess this shows how important I am to you," and hung up on me.

Yes, my kids are more important than you. Get over it.

 
 

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My publisher Alex is somewhat like a wizard. He makes things appear, like white boards and filing cabinets. I bet he could make this blog disappear.