it's friday, it's hot as hell, and my cat is channeling courtney love; early 90's, pre-oscars...

apparently she's grown bored of the whole pee on the bed thing and has now kicked it up a cracked out on heroin rock star notch with the whole pee on the bed while. i. am. still. in. it. thing...

and without going into further and more boring detail, let's just say that about sums up my past few weeks...

oh, that and the fact that now BOTH of my boys spontaneously bust out in a british accent whenever they see fit...

right then. brilliant.

x.

oh and this just in...after i posted i was putting sunscreen on the boys and was doing wingman's face when the duke says

"hey look at his sunscreen eyebrows!...he looks like danny clark!"

"who's danny clark?"

"i don't know, he just looks like a kid who should be named danny clark"

it's going to be a long day...

well now you learn something new every day, dontcha?

scientists have recently discovered that there are people who are actually incapable of detecting sarcasm...apparently they lack the sarcasm sensor in their brain, and the prefrontal lobe has a *dark* area where said sensors would be...and the dark area suggests some damage...but not damage like they have special needs or anything, they just can't detect sarcasm...

well of course i've known this for a long time, but i assumed it was a huge character flaw on their parts and that they were the kind of people who must not have a lot of fun...

or they just didn't like me...

well now happily i find out i'm wrong and everybody really does like me they just may be too brain damaged to know it!...

x.

if absence really does make the heart grow fonder then you must be ready to kiss me right about now!

be back monday...

x.

it's friday, it's overcast, and it's about time we got a little estrogen around here...

my two nieces come to stay this weekend...the youngest of the two is a baby...

ahh, i do love a baby...and since this baby isn't mine, i am going to do my level best to NOT roll her into a ball and swallow her whole...i can't promise anything, as she fits all the criteria for doing so...

when you decide you are through having babies, every baby who crosses your path is like the forbidden fix of an addict...the eyes glaze over, the body remembers, the soul softens...the mere thought of it is enough to make you believe it would be okay to do it *just one more time*...

i can feel my eggs dropping like coins in a slot machine already...

x.

the cutest thing since the discovery of the bug's ear...

wingman came in with his helmet on and sat down...he sighed loudly then said

"i was going to ride my bike, but now i have to wait because the bees are having their lunch"

of course it took everything i had not to squish him into a ball and swallow him whole...helmet and all...

x.

you can't handle the truth!...well, then again who could after i get done reducing it to a bumper sticker?

so i'm reading this book, a memoir...which means it's *real* (as a writer, i prefer to use that term loosely)...i like it...well, i liked it all right the first twenty pages or so...

but man is she wordy...she and all her friends...these conversations they have, they are all so erudite...and since i'm past the first twenty pages, i don't like it...i don't like it one bit...yet, i continue to read it at night before bed (apparently baking my own bread isn't entirely covering all the bases)...and i don't know if it's the book or the book mixed with the accompanying mug of sleepytime tea, but now my dreams are beginning to be affected...

which sucks as i've always been a great dreamer...perhaps it's my imagination, or my constant teetering on the hill overlooking crazytown, who knows...but it's there...this amazing ability to dream...

except now all the dreams i've been having are like the book i'm reading, wordy...filled with phrases and musings of insightfulness about the mundane...or at least the subject matter becomes mundane after i get done working it over...again, like the book...

can i tell you how incredibly annoying it is?...i'd even take that string of james earl jones sex dreams over the ones i've been having...and i suppose i don't need to elaborate except to say that is saying A. LOT.

case in point, last night i came up with the following

the only truth is what you leave behind

see, now when you first read it, it sounds all deep and thought provoking...

yeah.

because when you really read it, it means, um, nothing...well, not nothing, but really it's a less clever more wordy and chakaguru way of phrasing "what happens in vegas, stays in vegas"...

so instead of the tremendously scintillating bordering on real dreaming i am used to, i am apparently using that time to translate pop culture in to pop psychology...which, given the book i'm reading, is apparently a good gig if you can get it on to paper and into the right hands...

so the phrase was disturbing enough to wake me up...and i was starving...who's starving in the middle of the night?...people with crap dreams that's who (and no i'm not pregnant)

when i went downstairs i had a hunk of cheese and a glass of whole milk...at 1:30 in the morning...

yeah.

and i'd like to say it was just last night that i did this middle of the night noshing...but then i'd be lying, and i'm saving that for my own memoir...

so taking the full fat dairy into account, it could be that the only truth is what you leave behind...as in, what's on my ass stays on my ass...

then, of course, i was up for the bulk of the night thinking things...

i'm beginning to suspect that drinking tea, reading *good* books, and getting to bed early is not only ruining my dreaming abilities and my sleep, it's also making me fat(ter)...

suddenly staying up until 1:30 in the morning drinking a whole bottle of wine and watching a demi moore movie marathon is looking like the smarter move all the way around...

truth is what you convince yourself it is

and you can quote me on that...

x.

the staff of insanity...

i have stopped buying bread at the store, and have begun baking my own each week...

i like to believe that it's because it is far healthier for us, a much needed meditative process, and a time honored tradition that embodies the very essence of sustenance crafted wholly of love's labors...

but really, given who is doing the baking, i secretly suspect it's because i do love self flagellation so and have recently misplaced my hair shirt...

and just so you know i am not the only member of this family who is nuts, the following came out of the duke's mouth today

"you know, it really makes me angry when the indians use those war elephants against me...the biggest unit i've seen so far!!...and, the worst part is those elephants need very little resources!!"

i'd explain it, but that would take an output of energy i simply do not possess...

x.

this just in...

i am forced to put my regularly scheduled cleverness of the comical kind on hold while i wrestle with a bit of regularly scheduled anxiety of the clinical kind...

bah...

i am applying all my tricks and potions and hope to be back *soon*...

in the meantime, the boybarians have decided to play chess and as a result leave me alone...hmmmm...as you must understand, i am a bit suspicious of the peace and quiet...BUT, i am choosing NOT to be too wary and go with it...

be good while i'm gone and my continued wish is may the lot of you be blessed with the un-awareness of your own nerve endings...

to which, i have to say, being aware of your own nerve endings is a fine, fine thing if it's substance induced frivolity in the deep dark woods howling at the moon and with a bunch of good friends...

any other time it's just a big ol' drag...

x.