Rooful.

Well. That's enough of that.

I'm guessing you might want a return of something norrrrmalllll.

What can I tell you?

I'm getting more of my calories than I probably should from gin and tonics and cheese.

Sprog is trying to speak in full sentences. They sound sort of right, but make no sense.

My personal life is going through a lot of changes of late. I'm surprisingly okay with all of them. So far, anyway.

My cat is on a diet. She is not all that pleased about it.

Summer is here, in weather if not in date. I love it. Love it love it love it.

I am also loving my Pandora. Except for the fact it makes my very old computer freeze up. But other than that-- pleasant high-school-like grooving to tunes I don't know while I get stuff done in the evenings.

How are you all doing?

A lot of rain today.

Have you ever wondered what it feels like to go completely bonkers?

Well. I'm not sure I'd necessarily categorize mania as complete bonkers, in that there are still connections to an actual physical world, memories, some ability to communicate...

Anyway.
It feels like falling in love. Hard.
That type of bewildering drop into infatuation that makes your breath shallow, that leaves you wandering, distracted, wondering how you swallowed the sun without noticing. The whole world is connected in perfect synchrony, and you are at the beating core of it.

This is why maniacs don't want treatment. Who doesn't want to feel like that?

It's only later, when things turn dark, or speed too fast to bear, when it all becomes frightening and you can't connect with the people who love you because they don't understand anything about the encompassing inner world that's taken over your outer one, that treatment starts to seem like a good idea.

Even then, it has to be pretty bad for the desire to be rescued to overcome the shame of it all, or the hope the beautiful feelings might return for good.

Love can bring those feelings back. But then, you might remember that love feels exactly like losing your mind.

We have to work on the lift.

Sprog's at it again. By which I mean, chasing the laydeez.

He really seems to have a thing for older women. Those hot, experienced two-and-a-half-year-olds. According to the very amused nanny of today's flavor, Sprog was attempting to woo her with a bag of crackers. I didn't see this bit, so I'm not sure how well the gambit worked.

I did see him, a short while later, circle her while dancing, then stand behind her to try to heft her up into the air. They both fell over.

Well. I guess he has time to work on his game.

The stink-eye.

I volunteered yesterday with a locally-organized community group, to spend half a day cleaning up our neighborhood-- bits of trash, dog poop, that sort of thing. We hung refillable dispensers for poop bags, and posted little friendly signs to remember to clean up after ourselves. It was mostly families-- lots of parents taking their children out for an experience in civic pride.

I'm not sure if Sprog got that message, but he was game for the trip, mostly.

After the clean-up, we assembled back in the park for pizza and baked goods. A facepainter was there for the kids, as well as a woman who runs a fun recycled art business to teach kids about ecology. And I was there with the company I've been working for, which sponsored biodegradable poop bags for the event. I manned the camera for kids who wanted their picture taken with our shop's famous cat, and then I manned the table, with various samples and flyers and coupons and such.

Well, there was a dog grooming emergency, and Sprog and I ended up on our own at this table while my boss went to take care of it. I had not planned on being out so late with him, and he was starting to unravel after a long day in the heat, and cupcakes, and no nap, and a mother who couldn't go play.

So I was doing what I could, but it was exhausting and I wasn't able to pay much attention to the business I was supposed to be promoting (and a bawling, over-tired child isn't exactly a great advertisement for anything.)

But then he found these colorful dustpan and broom sets, leaning up against the wire fence to the park garden. And he was FASCINATED. He would stack them and stand them and swing them slowly and carefully around like some strange tiny martial artist.

Thank God. He was occupied, and happy. I chatted with some people, talked about the event (which all agreed went really well.) One of the organizers was my running partner back in the day. She was very pregnant, so it took me a moment to recognize her. Apparently she had a similar reaction: "Wow. Your hair's gotten really long. Until you said your son's name I didn't know it was you. You look great!"

Shortly thereafter, I decided to check my phone to see if my boss had mentioned anything about coming back so Sprog and I could leave. A woman came over to him, saying, "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to take these away from you."

"Oh that's okay. I--"

"These aren't sanitary!" she said, pulling the brooms out of his hands. Sprog started to bawl. "They might have dog poop on them!"

"Oh! I hadn't considered that!"

She didn't respond-- stalked off with the brooms, leaving me to gather my loudly weeping boy into my arms, stranded by my boss, unable to go home.

Of course that woman decided to show up while I was on the phone, ignoring my son while he played in shit.

Sigh.

I tend to be rather dirt-positive when it comes to my little boy's playtime, but I do draw the line at shit.

At any rate, I called the shop and told the staff person who answered the phone that I needed to leave, pronto, so someone needed to come take care of the supplies.

Long story short, no one ever came. I had to hitch a ride with the tables and supplies with a kind woman who overheard me on the phone.

Ah well.

By the time I rolled the stroller home, Sprog was fast asleep.

Friday Fast Five

1. I submitted a collection of short stories/essays to a competition. It's entirely possible they aren't even the right category for the competition, so... And I have to wait until August to find out how I did. Which is nerve-wracking. But I did it. So I've got that going for me, which is nice.

2. I ran a race down by Battery Park yesterday evening. The day had been so hot, but the breeze off the water was delicious. After, I watched the sun turn into a blazing fifty-cent piece and melt all over New Jersey.

3. My son has become a fanatic for Thomas the Tank Engine and Claussen pickles, loving each with a similar fervent passion. And his new favorite phrase is Oh no! Generally uttered right after he pulls all our mail off the shelf, or tears five pages out of a book, or tosses his stuffed animal on the ground. How could this possibly have happened? Oh no!

4. I've been making lots of costumes for cats. But also doing event planning, graphic design, publicity, product research, administrative support, yadda yadda. Feels good to be getting some work done for grown-ups. And cats.

5. Life is surprising and strange. I keep fucking up, which is disappointing. Probably more than it should be, considering basic human frailty and the nature of progress.

But underneath that awkwardness and disappointment is a layer of fizzy bliss. I've got a lot to be happy about these days.

How 'bout you?

I'm cheating a bit. It's okay- my towel gives me control over space and time. Which is really handy.

Happy Towel Day, Everyone!

1 Weird Tip To Cut Belly Fat!

Cut cross-grain, for tenderness.

My birthday present.

Everything I ever wanted.

[ And also this book. Woo-hoo! Happy May, everyone!]

While I was sleeping...

This morning, I wandered in to my kitchen to find a birthday surprise waiting for me--
the two buds on my Mother's Day bouquet had burst into bloom!

( J tells me Sprog picked out the flowers on Sunday. I think he chose well.)

After I got the coffee going, I sliced up a banana for the boy-o, and then J gave me a copy of David Sedaris's new book.

It's been a happy birthday so far.

Merci et Au Revoir, Professor.

The alumni of my grad school were invited to take part in a special collaborative art project to celebrate a long-time professor of drawing, painting, and art history, who is retiring this year. I signed up.

The project is simple- An image of the professor was divided into quadrants, which will be assembled and repeated all the way down the main hall of the design department. The participants were told that they could interpret their quadrants however they chose, so long as the finished project was the correct size.

The project is a surprise for the professor. It will be unveiled at this year's design show, and will hang until the professor's retirement party, in a few weeks.

So here's what I did.