Last night I was the first to arrive at the restaurant. The birthday boy (J) retrieved the little man from pre-school for me, so that I could work late. Again. Woo-hoo! Naturally I was excited to see both my boys, birthday amd otherwise, so I made sure to be punctual. Forgetting that J’s family is generally not. So I stood out on the sidewalk, getting a bit antsy. And hungry. Passed the time taking a few photos. It was unusually mild, and the sky was lovely. And folks showed up before too long. So we had ourselves a fine, leisurely meal. Followed by yummy cake (made by J’s mom, with his recipe - that I need to post one of these days) and presents. The little man was up way past his bedtime, and the sugar high kept him going even longer than I’d expected. All in all, a fine evening. And a good birthday for J, I believe. But we’re not done with the birthdays just yet. Today is Monica’s (Happy Birthday!) and tomorrow the little man’s Dad’s. So more dining out, and more cake. The weekend will be too jam-packed to see any movies…but there are a couple out that I’d like to see, and so many more being released soon. As well as an Akira Kurosawa retrospective starting in town today. So many movies, so little time. That’s what Netflix is for, I guess.

Yep, today is my darling’s birthday. Happy Birthday!
Though, as he likes to point out, I will always be older than he is. This is especially apparent when we play Lost Cities. When reading the rules of play J found that the opening turn is always “awarded” to the eldest player. Since it’s been just the two of us playing, that is always me. Even when the little man is old enough to play, it will still be me. Oh well. Those wacky Germans. And speaking of the little man, he kicked J’s birthday off to a fine start…by crawling into bed with us at 5:30am, and completely taking over my side of the bed. So I scooted J over to the other edge before finding myself thoroughly wedged in between my boys (who happen to produce an overabundance of heat). As J threw one arm around me, the little man tried to do the same…but wound up leaving one hand hanging on to my left ear, and his other hand covering my right eye. And so it was for most of an hour. Still, as awkward as it was, it was cozy. And it would have been nice to remain there for a while longer. But there is light at the end of the tunnel. Tonight: dinner at the restaurant of J’s choice, followed by birthday cake.

I’m no rock and roll fun. For weeks I’d been looking forward to the Ted Leo show. J graciously agreed to stay home with the little man so I could attend. I set out to spread the word…nearly evangelical in my encouragement of others to go (or to pick up the new release, at the very least). Then the day of the show arrived. It was a Monday. I’d slept poorly. And woken up with a sore throat. “No” I was screaming to myself. In my head, of course…wouldn’t want to wake J with any kind of racket in the morning. Uh, yeah. And “this can’t be! The show! What about the show?!” I perservered. For a bit. Got the kiddo to school and myself to work. As the day wore on I didn’t feel awful, exactly. But just ok…on the verge of ill. Like if I pushed myself too far the minor crud I was carrying around would blossom full-bore, and have a blast taking me out for a few days. So I couldn’t get as excited about the show, thinking “it’s just too damned late”. And “I’ll feel like death warmed over in the morning”. So I punked out. And not in any good sense of the word. I went home, hung out with my boys for a bit, and fell asleep by 9 or 10. Ted Leo didn’t take the stage until a couple of hours after that…around 11:30 or so, from what I hear. The morning after I was bummed. But naturally I couldn’t be left to wallow in my misery and regret all alone. Oh no. A co-worker had gone to the show. A couple of weeks ago he didn’t know who Ted Leo was. But I took care of that. After listening to me endlessly extol the virtues of Ted Leo he’d picked up a few CDs, caught the Conan O’Brien appearance (which I slept through) and become a huge fan. So upon my arrival to work he asked “what the hell happened to you?” When I gave him my meager excuses he gave me something in return. The L for “Loser” hand sign. So now the past couple of days have felt like a couple of years…as the converted preaches to the converter. Seems like he’s come up with some new nugget every couple of hours, minutiae to back up his over-arching theme of how incredible the show was…and how much I missed out. So have I learned to keep my yap shut about shows? Naw. You see, Sondre Lerche is playing in town Saturday…

I needed a little pick-me-up this afternoon…so what could be better than listening to the album “fuck you this is rice” by the band Rice. Uh-huh, a hardcore parody band called Rice making songs all about, yep, rice. My favorite is “Grain of Strength”:
2 cups of water one cup of rice
is this how much you measure your life’s worth?
the grain of strength is upon you
I wonder what the Chain of Strength boys think of it. Wherever they are now. There should be some sort of Behind the Music for hardcore and punk bands. Though it would have to be all diy and low-budget. There would be some semblance of a collective…but some rich kid would really be in charge, just because he could afford to be. He and his friends would go road-tripping all around the country, and fly to Sweden a couple of times. Using his daddy’s digital video camera to interview the “sell-outs” who dropped out of the scene, or were only true ’til 21. But I digress. And I tease because I love. Honest.

Generally I consider myself to be the queen of common sense…or at least a champion of safety awareness. But recently there have been too many instances where it just escaped me. And outright obliviousness set in. Albeit momentarily…but repeatedly. We came out of it all right (more or less), but the degree of danger and/or difficulty was increased to levels I could do without. So I’m going to take this opportunity to remind myself of a few things. Painfully obvious things…but things that need to be reiterated nonetheless.
1: Absolutely do not attempt to reset the dashboard clock whilst driving in rush hour traffic. It’s been off by just one minute for months now, according to Radio K. If I’d held out that long before the discontinuity drove me crazy, you’d think I could wait until the car was parked before fiddling with it.
2: Under no circumstances should I engage and/or encourage my step-mother in conversations regarding nutrition. Specifically veganism. She no longer suggests that the little man will be mentally retarded…but now believes he is going to become diabetic because of our lifestyle choices. Oy.
3. Do pay attention when purchasing pull-ups for the little man, especially to the size marked on the package. The ones I most recently picked up would have fit him…well over a year ago. Maybe.
4: On the rare occasions that I go out with the girls, I should remember to think ahead and dress appropriately. Under no circumstances should I wear fashion victim boots. Well, in the winter at least. I pulled through this time. Negotiating my way over and around snowbanks and glare ice. But there were too many close calls.
5: Do not trust that my alarm clock will remain set to the time of my choosing. I had a rude awakening around 1am this morning. It was slightly more rude than the time the little man woke me by attempting to stick Ultraman’s head up my left nostril. J refused to claim responsibility for this bit of heinousness (the alarm clock, not Ultraman). And when questioned the little man responded with one of his many non sequiturs, regarding a classmate. “Nathan breaks toys.” Well allrighty then. I don’t think we can pin the alarm clock tampering on Nathan. Instead of assigning blame I’ll just have to move on. And remember to check it before I set it. Yeah.
6: Do not let the little man eat french fries while he is bathing. Enough said.
7: And last but not least, I should not run red lights…because I’m too distracted singing along to Peaches. Or for any other reason.
Sound advice, I think. Now I’ll just have to follow it.

Last night we dined at a new Chinese/Taiwanese restaurant that’s sure to be making our regular rotation. There’s hardly any mention of it online yet…just one brief review. But I thought a little more of it than the Strib’s reviewer. It’s not all-vegetarian/vegan, but the next best thing. The owners are extremely veg*n-friendly. In addition to having numerous veg*n items on the menu, they prepare and cook veg*n dishes seperately from the meat dishes. And they have vegan eggrolls! I know, it sounds like an oxymoron. But the owners have found egg roll wrappers that contain no eggs. On the menu they are called vegetarian rolls. Mmmm, greasy goodness. They also have a number of Taiwanese noodle dishes. And oodles of mock meat products, in addition to the standard tofu and mock duck dishes. I tried the imitation chicken with broccoli in white gravy. It was tasty, but next time I think I’ll sample the sweet and sour imitation chicken or imitation pork…which some of our dining companions had ordered, and I was admiring from afar. Noticed they’ve also got some decent lunch specials, and, yay for me, it’s close enough to my office that I can make the trek every now and again. Oh happy day.

My step-mother called at 6am this morning. Now, she’s long been an early-riser. And with the little man in my life, my nightowl tendencies have been seriously curbed. Or, more accurately, turned on their head. But still. Naturally my first assumption was that something was seriously wrong. Well, many things are seriously wrong, all the time. But I was worrying, more specifically, about some potential fresh hell…involving someone I care for. But her tone was far too casual for that. Turns out she’d just been flipping through the morning paper and an article caught her eye. Mentioning my office, and just “what the heck” folks wear around here. Wacky. I guess there are more photos in the paper version. Thankfully I’m not in any of them.

It’s been a bad time for midwestern clubs. First the horrific Chicago stampede. Then, closer to home, a fire at the Fine Line. At least in the latter, all attendees exited safely. I think these are rather uncommon incidents, but still. It gives one pause. And does nothing to stave off my growing hermitude. Had the day off yesterday and didn’t manage to leave the house. Didn’t leave the house Sunday either, come to think of it. But we did go sledding in the backyard. That’s kind of leaving the house. But not the property, I guess. That same day J gave the little man a home-style haircut (not with a Flowbee or anything, just clippers), circumventing the need to go elsewhere. Though the jury is out regarding the quality of said haircut, it was still a good test run. Anyhow, I’m back at the office today. Away from the house. Though I plan to return there just as soon as possible. But next Monday my plans are otherwise. Going to brave the big bad world and go out. Elsewhere. After work. To a live music venue at that. It takes a lot to get me out these days, but Ted Leo can do it. I’ve been listening to his new album today. Courtesy of a co-worker. Who left his house to purchase a copy of it. While I ordered mine online…and have yet to receive it. Hmmm. There do seem to be *some* advantages to leaving the house. But let’s not come to any hasty conclusions.

So, another exciting Saturday night. Not even 8 o’clock and my boys are out cold. J is napping. And the little man fell asleep…in my comfy chair. I’ll have to transfer him to his bed soon. Can’t blame them. It was a rather busy day. The monkey started it out by waking up way too early. Especially as he’d stayed up too late last night, entertaining our dinner guests. But this afternoon the three of us headed Uptown, for the anti-war demo. Good friends of ours live near enough to the rally starting point, so we parked at their house and headed over together. We marvelled that in all our years of activism we’d never seen such a large turnout at any event. Or perhaps at all events combined. Estimates range from 7,500 to 10,000. In Minneapolis that is a pretty big deal. One eerie thing for me…it was twelve years ago that I attended a rally in the same area. For something altogether too similar. Protesting Papa Bush’s actions in the Persian Gulf. The weather was about the same too. Temps in the teens. But we were pretty well bundled up today. Unfortunately the stroller didn’t do very well over ice, snow and slush. So the guys went on without us for the entire march. While the little man and I made our way more slowly. Then stopped altogether…to warm up at the Tea Garden. A few other parents had the same idea, so our kids played while we commiserated. Afterwards the monkey and I headed back to the home base. And watched “My Neighbor Totoro” while waiting for the guys to return. All in all, an interesting day. Photos from worldwide rallies can be seen here, here and here.

My boys are oblivious to valentine’s day (and a lot of other things, for that matter). For the third year in a row I hand-made valentines for the little man’s classmates. At least this year his attention span was long enough to assist. A bit. He doodled on six cards before losing interest. The nineteen after that were all me. I also did some last minute scrambling to obtain treats. I’m sure most parents just grabbed a bag of junk candy to distribute. But I wanted to provide something a little healthier. And thus wound up shelling out $11+ for organic fruit leather. Doh. I hope they enjoy it. As for the big man. Well. To gloss over his apathy for the holiday (any hollow-day for that matter, not just this one) we’re having some folks over this evening. For something of an anti-valentine’s day dinner/potluck. But it’s all good. J has always been this way, and I knew that going in. When he was a kid his mom packed their school lunches on a daily basis. One valentine’s day she packed them something special. When lunchtime came around J took one look at his sandwich, assumed there was something wrong with it, then chucked it in the trash. When he got home from school he asked her about it. Turns out she had cut each sandwich into the shape of a heart. Freaking oblivious, I tell you. But I love him anyway. At least the parking ramp attendant gave me a flower this morning (he was handing them out to each driver who pulled in). Sigh.