DEATH MATCH - :Made up inside my head:

Working for the government is just a long slog through paperwork. Paperwork to do more paperwork. Waiting for the faxes of that paperwork to attach to other paperwork to submit with additional paperwork. There is paperwork to save other people from doing paperwork that no longer needs to be done, and paperwork to defend yourself when they panic and cc all your bosses because they don't know how to stop doing the paperwork you're trying to spare them.

 So yesterday I started devising a resignation speech in my head. It was in all-caps, and involved stapling things to people. I said as much to sarah, and she replied, "Do the resignation with a top hat and a cane."

This is excellent advice. And coincidentally, the Internet was in need of more pictures of cats in hats.

So here I present a DRAMATIC RE-ENACTMENT OF RESIGNATION WHICH HAS NOT YET OCCURRED.

Scene 1: soliloquy - "fucks I do not give." 

Scene - wait, oh no. Actor is drunk.

REENACTMENT CONTINUES WITH NEW ACTOR

Good day sir. I SAID GOOD DAY.

Much better. It really wasn't a complicated speech.

And all resignations are better when you end them with something random and confusing. ROBOT IN A TOP HAT.

the pigeon, the hobo, and the police

Hyperventilating hobo came into the library, upset about a pigeon that had been looking in the front windows for 3 days. He gestured wildly and claimed it was a pet dove, a very special and important pet dove, like a pirate's parrot. Probably a homing dove. No, a pigeon. Definitely Filipino. Filipinos like pigeons. You can tell by the bands on its legs, it's a highly trained animal, someone is desperate to have it back, it's very smart and very important. It probably rode here in a car. Someone needs to save the Filipino pirate pigeon!

I went outside and had a look at the bird. It was fat and white and had colored, numbered bands around its legs. I promised to stop by the police station and ask them for animal control's number while I was on the way to pick up the library mail, and closed the door on the hobo mid-rant. Drove to the station. Officer blinked at me. A pigeon. Yes, a rogue pigeon. One of our hobos is freaking out because it is looking in the windows. He says it's Filipino. Fili- what?! That's racist. I know, right? You can't just ask a pigeon if it's Filipino! Here comes Ofc. A, tell him! It's on the campus, that's his area. Ofc. A! There is a pigeon menacing the library. Go arrest it. Not again.

I got back to the library, tossed the pigeon part of a hot dog, called animal control, and was told it was a racing pigeon, probably blown off course and resting, and please don't make them send someone all the way out there to chase it around. Went outside and stared at the pigeon with my janitor, discussing the likelihood of it being used as a football by asshole middle-schoolers when the bell rang. Pigeon looked affronted, made a big show of stretching its hamstrings, and flew away.

And that was the thing about the pigeon.


In other news

I'm keeping my hands busy again. Like someone treading water. Not like a serial strangler.

Picked a bag of guavas from my friend's tree, and made a small batch of luminous jelly. No ants were murdered this time.

Working on a Christmas stocking (the argyle stripes and name go on afterward).

And because I just had to make sure sheep are out to kill me, it is made of wool. We all went into fits of asthmatic death-coughing. I had to put Leif's head in the freezer again - which is difficult, because I only have a deep-freeze, and had to hold him upside-down. Have packed the stocking off to work, where I am continuing to kill myself discreetly over lunch breaks.

Trimmed Leif's quilt for binding. Finally.

Worked on the most boring blanket ever. Am going to snap and go wild with the stripes soon. WILD.

Made a head out of sculpey for next illustration project.

Have been entertaining fantasies of quitting my job, getting an agent, finding a mainland publisher, and going full-time with it.

Hmm.

Book #6

It is out! Copy arrived in the mail. It was a bit of a rush job, but I didn't mangle it too badly. 

The kids liked the derpy pig.

And this one has a CD included! I have not listened to it yet, because that would involve prying it out of its pristine packaging, but I will.

Unrelated: these things for snack today.

I am told they are called "Dragon's Eyes", and this time I am almost certain they have magical properties. Not like those hairy apple things my janitor made me eat last year.

break

In some failed relationships, there is a moment when the circling and waiting finally swerves and crashes, tearing apart into a debris field of separated belongings, removed photos, deleted computer files, empty liquor bottles, spatters of mental anguish, and glossy chunks of heart tissue.

The emotional shrapnel isn't mine this time, I am just ducking and cussing to myself. This is a lot of fallout for a 4-month relationship.

But before I finally said the words, "You need to leave," there was a perfect Labor Day weekend with my kids and their dad. He wrote about it here.

Whatever problems Mike and I have had, getting along has never been one of them. For three days, we laid around the hotel pool, visited the aquarium, played mini-putt, ate ridiculous quantities of good food, harassed parrots, and watched movies in our jammies. And every time we got into the car, this song played, until we were smacking each other and making accusing eyebrows as to who's karma was trying to make amends with who's:

As soon as the plane left with the man on it, Black Parade started playing. I laughed helplessly. The radio is possessed. Or the car.

Notable vacation moments:

Thai food - eaten on the hotel coffee table, as if by ravenous wolves.

The aquarium shark tunnel, filled with small children holding their parents' iPhones, running in schools to capture every sea creature that swam by the window.

Leif slipping off the pool steps and tried to drown, necessitating a leap into the water while fully dressed by his heroic mother. "I sinked. I was skeered," said the shivering boy afterward. We went back to the hotel room and played with the Playstation.

Mini-putt, under an enormous fake volcano with cascading waterfalls.

Bumper-boats. Everyone rammed each other and the kids assaulted us with water cannons.  Not a good time to wear a skirt.

A dubious encounter with "Green Burrito". With cardboard pornstaches in the kiddie meals.

Use of age-old traveler's trick for finding good breakfast joints: drive around and look for crowds in some hole-in-the-wall cafe. We scored fantastic biscuits and gravy, with cinnamon buns the size of a baby's head.



It was good. We needed it.