Feeling stressed, on multiple fronts, and badly in need of a vacation. A real one. Where I actually flee, and, get to, you know, leave town for a while. It doesn’t have to mean leaving on a jet plane. A road trip would suffice. But it’s not in the cards just yet. And this morning I need to focus. We’re meeting with the little man’s psychologist. To go over the results of his most recent evaluation, to find out what more we can do to help him now, and to learn more about what his prognosis is looking like.

Speaking of the little man…he just woke up, walked into my room and handed me a tooth (one of his front teeth had been hanging by a thread for days). This was better than the last time he lost a tooth, when it truly was lost, having disappeared some time in the night.

Bonus: I didn’t watch Rocketboom daily, but I checked in now and again. It will be interesting to see what transpires after Amanda’s departure…
Plus: June was not a good month for elderly, ailing cats. We lost Jasmine at the beginning of June, while the Smartypants household lost their cat towards the end of it. Good night, sweet furry fatso.
And: On a happier tip, Neil Gaiman’s reports from the set of Stardust are, first and foremost, a relief. Beyond that they’re actually getting me excited about the film (the book is one of my favorites).

Ok, I kind of lied. Or over-exaggerated. When I said we were doing nearly nothing over the long holiday weekend. We’ve been doing plenty, really…just haven’t left town to do any of it. Now I will proceed to back up my claims.

Friday:

• In the morning the little man had a playdate with Oliver and his sis Beatrice.
• We stopped by little Dave’s to meet his newly adopted dog, the lovely Lily.
• In the afternoon we picked up the little man’s bio-dad, to take him swimming with us at the YWCA.

Saturday:

• For breakfast I made blueberry pancakes.
• The husband and I escorted the little man to a blissfully air-conditioned and nearly empty Children’s Museum (and renewed our membership while there).
• I finished the book I’d been reading.

Sunday:

• The little man and I walked down to the Taste of MN, strictly for the rickety rides. Did you know the carnies use Armor All on those giant inflatable slides, to keep the children from sticking to them? Holy unhealthy! Naturally I didn’t find this out until after my son slid down a few. I am appalled.
• The husband took care of some yard work (like hacking down the tree that had been attempting to grow under and through the front porch), and I only had to nag him about it for a few months.
• I went out, without the guys, to see a movie with a friend. And let me tell you, Lady Vengeance was well done but excruciating at times. The kind of movie where the creepy bits are noisome and hard to shake. I had to cleanse my palate before bed last night by watching some old and comfortingly familiar BtVS episodes.

Monday (today):

• I whipped up a batch of blueberry scones.
• The little man and I met up with the lovely Zophia at Muddy Paws, to belatedly exchange birthday gifts.
• Afterwards I took the lad to a sparsely populated Eagle’s Nest, so he could burn off some excess energy.
• We ran home to retrieve the husband (who had been working), to take him to Evergreen for a fantastic family dinner.
• Once home I had an oddly Minnesotan moment, when, lounging on the deck, I could clearly hear Soul Asylum performing at the Taste of MN just down the hill from our house.

Tuesday (tomorrow):

• I’ll be celebrating our nation’s independence by, wait for it, washing several loads of laundry! Honestly, that’s the extent of our plans for the day…so far. And that’s all right.

I’m still here. In fact, we’re doing nearly nothing over this long holiday weekend. I’ve just been feeling sort of…blah. Uninspired and milquetoast. Maybe it’s the heat. Maybe it’s all the random noise bursts in my overactive brain. I do have several partially written posts saved, but I can’t quite get them to the finish line.

But I did wake up from a strange dream this morning. I had been shot. Just above my left hip. By whom, I have no idea. It was at night and I’d been driving East down a major street when I thought I was driving West. The whole dream was like that, all topsy turvy and turned around. The emergency room “scene” was played on fast forward and suddenly I found myself bandaged up and at my Dad’s house. Only his house had moved, to a small island with a lighthouse. And I was holding someone’s newborn baby, but I don’t know whose. It was definitely not mine. I handed her back to a stranger and announced that I needed a ride to the airport, stat, as I had to catch a flight to Europe that afternoon. Alone. I asked my Dad if he could take me, but he shook his head sadly and said no. My brother, who was alive in this scenario (and looking like he did in 1988, pre-leukemia), chimed in and said he could do it, no problem. And then I woke up. What a weird way to start the day.