coffffeeeeeee

I decided to break up with my coffee maker, but it didn't work out. Love is blind. The blind that comes with raging headaches and shaking hands and makes you knock all the cereal out of the cupboard in a frantic search for filters. I didn't tell my machine, but I switched to half-caf. I will sneak off in the night.


The other day Gavin tried to fall asleep at 5pm, which wouldn't do because then he'd be up doing the pretty girl dance with Po until midnight, so I nudged him. "Oh, I'm not sleeping, mom, my eyes were just a little bit broken, that's all." When we finally went to bed and woke up again (in the morning) he shuffled into the bathroom as I scrabbled at the coffee pot. After a long moment there was a clatter in the bathroom and then warbling falsetto, so I popped in to check on him. He had an audience of stuffed cats, and looked up at me in my jammies, "Oh hi mom! I was just... um..." he looked concerned, reached up slowly, and then juggled my nungas. "Huh, look at that."

I guess they weren't where he thought they should be without a bra on.

Masturbator

me: "See, there goes his hand again, but it's not mov- oh! I saw tendons twitching."
Heather: "Oh, I'm just SO glad I came in today."
me: "Marcus is doing stealth recon somewhere."
circ staff: "Marcus went upstairs!"
me: "Oh, he's upstairs, he'll see it all up there!"
manly circ staff: "I'll throw him out if you want."
me: “Thank you, I would love to see you pick him up by the shirt and chuck him out. I'll let you know."
Marc came downstairs nodding, then stalked into the back room to scald his eyeballs with rubbing alcohol. Heather and I pushed and raced out to the computer room and stood right behind the man with the 5 chat windows open, watching him type rapidly with one hand and pretend to scratch with the other. When his biceps got into the action Heather's eyes rolled back in her head and she dropped down to kneel beside him. "Sir, we're getting complaints about what you're doing with your hands. You have to stop. Now." He stared at her, but put his arms on the table.

I was laughing about this while guiding a patron down an aisle. I mostly get hit on by friendly old men, but lately younger guys have used me for practice, posing against the desk with stupid compliments on my typing speed. This guy tried it, using the good old "hey, how tall are you?" line to break the ice. I told him, and he tried to convince me he was a 6' 3" basketball player who likes to go to Oscar parties. Except he was a 5'8" middle-aged man who likes to carry Star Wars toys in his stained pockets. 

Interesting day at the library.

preschool love

A couple weeks ago, Gavin heaved a heavy sigh and said,
"Mom, I'm not in love with A. anymore."
"Why not?"
"She's not my girlfriend anymore. She's P.'s girlfriend now."
"Oh dear. Well, you didn't really love her too much anyway, you said she whines and takes your snacks."
"Yeah. And P. says I can't be in love with her because she's his girlfriend now."
"Well you can be in love with whoever you want, he can't control you how you feel."
"Yeah... but she always hit hit hits anyway and screams a lot."
"Sounds like it's ok she's not your girlfriend anymore, then."
"Yeah."

Cut to yesterday.

"Mom, A. is almost part of my family."
"How's that?"
"Well, I am going to marry her."
"But I thought she wasn't your girlfriend anymore?"
"She is again."
"What happened to P.?"
"He has a boyfriend now."
"Well that happens sometimes."
"Yeah.

haha.


This morning is the last program of the summer, which is going to rely on my nonexistent skills as fingerprinting expert. I am bringing candy to appease outraged children.

Went into the kitchen for breakfast, where Po leaped onto her hind legs and did the Pretty Girl dance on the cupboard door. I reached in and grabbed the last tin of food out of the box, flipping it over to discover a bubbling foam of tiny maggots exploding from a dented crack in the aluminum. Oh no! The protein is escaping! I chucked it in the trash and gave Po dental treats instead. I hope that is not a signal of things to come today.

knit 2, snarl 3

Have knit a 5x5 swatch. It has a couple holes in it, but those are for tiny feet to go through.

For the second weekend in a row, Marc's wife and I managed to get together and hang out. We dried off in the shade beside the pool, watching Gavin cannonball into the water and the baby rearrange our slippers on the towel, talking about love and metabolisms. It's nice having another mom to talk to.

Yesterday I dropped off the kiddo with his father and went out for a morning of necessary shopping. I drifted on autopilot. Sat outside Target with a diet coke and stared at the mountains. I can't see where I'm going anymore, I got to the light at the end of the tunnel and everything's misty out here. I have no purpose, no mission in life. I am not looking for that guy out there who is supposed to be looking for me as well. I wonder if he's sitting with his elbows on his knees, too.

nerdpost2

To everyone's surprise, the spotted dick was the first to go. It might have looked like fetid meatloaf, but it turned out to be a succulently moist toffee pudding that was well worth the embarrassment it did to my Le Creuset.

The midnight opening at Russo's was great, the marketplace crowded with students, professors, muggles, news vans, radio stations, and vendors. The line wrapped a thousand people deep, Potter music erupting from massive speakers as the crowd surged at midnight. Employees flung books out as fast as they could snatch tickets, and by 12:15am the book was gleaming in my eager hands.


Better wizards than I have lost buttocks:




The police blocked off the marketplace exits as the boxes arrived and were unloaded, but Russo's was taking no chances and placed their own guard against the mob of squibs:




And this goes down as the stupidest picture of me in recent months:

Milky Way redux

Right. Am a strong woman. Will reclaim athleticism and become master of morning swimming.

The pool was full of bugs. I got out the ridiculously long scoopie net and swished it around in the water. Thunked half a cup of dead corpses into the bushes and wondered idly how many calories would have been in them. Decided that my wake would wash the rest of the dead things off to the gutters, so leaped in and swam back and forth until my ears started hurting and I was forced to crawl out and lay sprawled on the deck. Spat out 3 gnats, picked my way over the wet grass like a cat, and up to my apartment for a shower. Peeled off my speedo and found a second layer of drowned gnats underneath, which set me off into a laughing fit that scared Po out of the litter box. And I feel bad about eating shrimp? I thought illogically. Dumped cocoa body wash over my head and washed away the lingering irritation of last night's banging-Mike's-head-against-floor dreams. Unfortunately, deliciously scented skin was sabotaged when a jar of curry powder leaped out of the cupboard, flung its contents all over me, and smashed itself on the floor. Damn it.

Sang in car on the way to work. "When the stars -- and the moon -- and the sky fall throooough, I'll throw it all awaaaay when I swallow! Deep as the seagulls!" I don't really understand Brandi Carlile, but I love her.

Man vs. Wild vindicated me last night, and I punched the air with a hoot. Sexy Unnessary-Goat-Eyeball-Eating Survival Man explained, up on a cliff, "An easy way to tell how long you've got is to put your hand up like this against the horizon, and every finger is 15 minutes. I've got one hand - two - and so that's about two hours until sunset." HA! I win! Pointlessly smug.

words from Gavin

"Mom, I want to spend the night with dad. It'll be ok, don't be scared sleeping by yous-self. I won't be dead, I promise."

"If the bad guys come in, I'll WHOOSH up with my flying saucer and you can spray them with the pepper sprays and then I will BONK them on theirs head and thems bounce high high high and CRASH and break theirs body all up." [This said enthusiastically. We had some words about breaking people's bodies.]

camping

The 27-year-old-13-year-old Returns


In my memories of 16 years ago, we pushed through tall bushes and bright green foliage to step into a clearing with a towering redwood. At the base, my youngest aunt exchanged vows with her new husband. My grandparents stood to one side, Uncle Don choked up a bit as he officiated. 2 years later we all returned, filing quietly through the same leafy greenery to pay our respects to my grandmother's ashes and pour our grief into the tree. The forest has burned since then. Unable to find any walls of bushes, I trusted the memory skills of my feet to carry me off the path and over crunching layers of dead bark while Mike and Gavin followed cautiously behind. Rounding several crisped young trees, there she was, as solid as ever. The inside crack of the tree was black, red weeping sap solidified like dried blood in places. Someone years ago had dropped a pen; it was melted into the pine needles. I wondered if it had been one of us. White flecks showed in the dirt in the hollow, and I said hi to grandma.

"Did she turn into the tree?" asked Gavin, frowning. "Why can't she come say hi and hug us? When is she coming back to life?" "She's dead, baby. Maybe her spirit grew into the tree's. Maybe she's gone forever. We don't know what happens when we die." "Then why are we alive? It's so sad." "That's why we have children. She had my mom, my mom had me, I had you, and so now you're living for grandma, and when you have a baby they'll be alive for you. That's how we go on." We regarded the tree somberly. Suddenly a very tanned half-naked boy appeared around the side, long hair streaked with tiny braids. Pointy ears and slanted eyes. "Oh, hello," he said in surprise, and disappeared. I turned to Mike, "I just saw an elf!" My mother later argued that it was a tree spirit. We wondered if it would be upset by its discovery and appear at our tent with half a dozen tree spirit cronies and crowbars to whack us.

The forest was as amazing as ever, even with the hoots and screams of the tourists. Shafts of light, dust motes, blue jays, squirrels, curling plants, mossy remains of fallen giants. The earthy smell was so heavy you could feel it. Forests are cathedrals. When Gavin's small legs got tired, we said goodbye to the pet sticks he had carried around, got back into the car, and drove down the mountains to the lake just as evening set in.

Bears!

No bears, actually. A deer bounded across the road, a squirrel tried to attack the car, and several hawks eyeballed Gavin, but no bears tried to muscle in on our marshmallow roasting. Perhaps because we didn't have any; we forgot to bring implements of fire. Or ice, for that matter. Or a bottle opener. Mike pulled out a warm beer, looked around for a sharp rock, and bashed the top of the bottle clean off. He stared at the ragged edges sadly. "At least we have something to chase off the park ranger when he comes to get our money." Gavin celebrated the erection of the tent (oh hush) by rolling in the dirt until he was monochromatic. At nightfall the lake exploded in holiday fireworks, and we watched from our hilltop view.

Gavin woke me up by poking me in the forehead repeatedly. I had become wedged between the two twin air mattresses. After enjoying the luxury of the extra-big handicap port-a-potty, we walked down to the lake to throw rocks, pluck hooks from the sand, and poke a dead fish with a stick. A gang of smug ducks cruised by. As Gavin waded through the shallow water, swirls of sand glittered with gold behind him. I picked out several flecks and held them up in the sun on my fingers. The golden shores of Lake Isabella! Pretty.

After enjoying a cozy breakfast in the village and making off with a wooden bear and chicken from the Bear (and chicken!) Store, we picked up snacks for the drive home and I slammed my own head in the car door. It can be done! That would have been an anticlimactic way to die, even if it did make a good gravestone inscription.

We drove home, and I thought about how strange it is living for no purpose. No more schooling, no muse, no true love. It's Gavin's turn, and I'm just killing time.