Bum

You learn something new every day. Who knew "fanny" was a dirty word in the Land of Fish and Chips? "I want to lay outside and tan my fanny," I told Mike, then laughed at my own hilarity.

I sat in the back of the car on the way to dancing, trying to read my book while my mother turned in her seat to ask me questions about faucets and Gavin fed me firetrucks while using my hair as reigns. He is going to make a terrible horse owner. I finally detached myself and made a run for it at the 7-11, heading up to Yuri's house for an evening of "packing".

We sat in the remains of Yuri's tiny apartment eating vegetarian chicken wings and fake riblets, discussing men, whether Stephen Colbert was as do-able as Jon Stewart, and watching the cooks on Top Chef get into fights over who turned down their ovens. I made off with a bag full of hangers, some interesting (unopened) girdle panties, an enormous jar of pesto, and a weird racist piggybank. When dancing was over, I walked back down to the 7-11 to meet the family. Gavin admired the piggybank, pointing at its little grinning teeth and declaring that it looked just like me. Lovely.

It has been a week, and we are fully night weaned. This means I can get up to stuff at night, if for some reason I was able to drag myself out of bed and think of something to do, which I think has actually never happened. But it could now. It also means I can go away for overnight trips. Not that I have any plans to; I can not afford the plane tickets to the ALA conference as I had hoped. Anyway, sleeping through the night is nice after almost 4 years.

In the dark early morning, Gavin twined his fingers in my hair and whispered, "Mom, don't go to work, stay home with me." Just about tore my heart out. 

Thursday. Only another work day before I can repeat my impersonation of a popcorn kernel on the beach. At least I can use both arms again. It is sad to lose my best excuse. "I can't [clean the littler box/wash dishes/get off the couch], I only have one arm."