Anderson Cooper

A few weeks ago I looked like Michael Stipe and now I think I look like Anderson Cooper although I’m not having the same effect on men, damn you silver fox.

I'm amazed to learn that you can wake up with bed-head when you're hair is only about 3mm long, and I have to say that if it falls out again I'm gonna be pissed, been there done that, no need to be redundant.

The garden in front of my house is looking nice {if you ignore the weeds and uninvited grass} and I’m going to blow the last of my cash on herbs and flowers to plant in pots this week because I think watching them grow will be as medicinal and restorative as 90 lbs. of daily asparagus.

Warning: shameless parental bragging ahead. I got the best mother’s day card from Jonah. He made it in school, it says MOM and lists my traits and not among them are tired, sick, always in bed, cranky at bed time... it says creative, friendly, good taste, smoothie maker, responsible, crafty, doesn’t get mad easily, listener {most of the time}, optimistic, takes care of people, loveable, loves back, The one mom to rule them all!!!!!! and then he handwrote “and the best mom I could ask for, Happy Mother’s Day.” Aw shucks, plus we've been emailing all weekend while he's been at his dads and you really see a different side of your kid when they're emailing, it's really interesting.

I couldn't want more than that, except that maybe, for just once, in his entire life, G’s allergy misery to peak, some other day, but this year was no exception, to each on past. Since he’s the competitive one, who loves when people do nice things for him... I showed him Jonah’s letter and said “little dude kicked your ass”. His list, surely, might be a little different -- asks me annoying personal questions, oppressively expects birthday cards, tries to hug me, always tells me to turn off the t.v. and empty the dishwasher...

This is all secondary, however, to the shock, disbelief and mutual grief we are feeling upon learning there are only two episodes left of Game of Thrones. Damn, I’m just going to have to read those books, but there’s soooooo many and they’re so long and I think I’ve forgotten how to read a novel.

Sunday night is trash night in my neighborhood. I have been a daily newspaper reader for as long as I can remember. When I was gainfully employed I read the paper at lunch, and for years now, my most entrenched and reliable ritual has been to read the paper with breakfast. I’m such an avid paper reader that if I go away for a few days, I read all the papers that have piled up when I get home. But since November and this crazy thing took over my life, I don’t read the paper. I don’t know why, I just don’t. They pile up on my porch all week and then I toss them in the recycling box on Sunday. Not a single part of my life has been untouched, even the innocuous parts and it’s somewhat inexplicable. I really can’t figure out why I’m not reading the paper.