building a tractor in the basement
I had a dream that I lived on a hippie commune and it was really shitty and sexist. I mostly washed dishes and had sex with different bearded freaks, many of whom were jealous and who would tell me not to have so much sex with Bearded Freak X or whatever. I have never woken up happier to be in a monogamous, nuclear-family, free-market condition.
A lot has happened since I complained about my crazy cat, who by the way is currently right here whining for attention. It may be time to resort to THE NUMBERED LIST.
1. Nora's last hurrah at school was the “Fun and Games” day. Part of it was a 5K, you could run as much or as little as you wanted. Nora ran 5 times around the track, or 1.25 miles, without stopping. The kids who weren't doing it/had already finished stood on the sides and cheered for runners, and she outright admitted that she loved the cheering and that's why she ran so much. Then they had carnival games and sno-cones. Then she went to her dojo for karate class. Then she had a bubble bath with some of her action figures, who suffered many diverse and tragic fates underneath the suds. Then she decided she wanted only “small round things” for dinner, and ate a can of garbanzo beans and a whole bunch of blueberries. Then she watched a Walking With Dinosaurs special on DVD and went to bed. THE PERFECT DAY!
2. We went to a street festival and it did not rain. Which is good, because my brother-in-law was performing the rock and roll at the fest, and I suspect my familial support is not strong enough to withstand rain. Nora scaled an inflatable climbing wall (twice), picked up swag, and ate a corn dog while sitting on the curb and nodding her head to the rhythms of the Def Leppard cover band. I wish I had video of that last thing. She is a rather unmusical child, but if a song would be at home in a NFL team's weight room it apparently makes her playlist.
3. Later that night I went to a social outing, composed of some moms from Nora's recently concluded (huzzah!) kindergarten class. It was not the sort of night where we did tequila shots and became BFF, and I was definitely the most socially-acceptable me I could be all night, but it was enjoyable in a grown-up sort of way. Plus totally worth it to learn inside information about the school and Nora's future teachers (one of the women has a son in the upper grades). Check this space in 2011, when from the sound of things we'll be in Diorama Hell!
The restaurant where we met was so far west it was practically in Park Ridge, and I drove. (Guess the lack of tequila shots was a good thing.) I am a DRIVING SUPERHERO as long as I have my trusty GPS. Sometimes I turn it on even when I know the way, just for the friendly encouragement. (GPS Lady: Left turn ahead. Me: Yes indeed! Thanks robot lady!)
Anyway, I had to park really far away from the restaurant door, which was fine at 6 pm but creepy dark at 10 pm. I am the fearless urban type but that was something else. I do not know what the Far Northwest Side has against streetlights, but the pitch-black walk to my car was freaking me out a bit. I realized that I was reflexively hitting “door open” on my key fob over and over again as I walked, hoping to see the welcoming flash of my tail lights, and then I realized oh great, I am giving the Killing Dismembering Rapist multiple chances to hop in the car and crouch in the backseat with his bag o' bonesaws. (Although a Raping Killing Dismemberer would be more standard, I suppose. Not too many dedicated torso-fuckers out there.)
Of course no such ghoul appeared, and my Toyota's interior lights up delightfully for seeing at a glance that there is no one inside, which is a nice feature. Unraped and undismembered, all I had to put up with was Saturday-night crazy drivers zooming past me on Devon, despite the fact that I was moving quite efficiently at ten miles over the speed limit. Yes, I see, you have a fast car and you are an asshole. Good for you. The only thing that loosened my anxious deathgrip on the steering wheel was playing the live version of “The Girls Want to Be With the Girls” and faithfully making every single David Byrne yip-yip noise. It was a bit like musical driving Tourette's but it totally calmed me down.
4. Then Obama came to town and I had to party with him for a while.
5. I took Nora to the dentist and he was still a major dick about the finger-sucking thing and pretty much showed me the Lisa Simpson-gets-braces projection of her hideously deformed future. I am supposed to make Nora wear a glove to bed or face tragic future orthodontia. I did not outright say that I had no interest in making Nora stop sucking on her finger in the middle of the night, but because I was so calm and not rushing to agree with his doomsday predictions I think he suspected I am not really on board. At one point he said, “All I can do is educate, I can't tell you how to parent” and I said, “That's so true” and then we just sort of gave each other flinty looks, like in a Clint Eastwood cowboy movie. The good news is that he is leaving the practice, so maybe Nora's December appointment will be a little less fraught and the new dentist a little more relaxed. And still no cavities!
—mimi smartypants goes with everything.