weapons of massdistraction

Poor James. At least his pity party gave me a pretty sweet post title. And honestly, I’ve hardly been able to summon up that strength myself lately. Hoping tomorrow will be a better day. For the little man too. Earlier one of his teachers sent me a very sad email about yet another incident in the gym. Thankfully no one bit him this time. In fact, he was flying solo. Turns out he had unplugged the cd player from the wall, probably just to see what would happen. So what did happen? When the music stopped everyone turned to look at him. The sudden attention caused him to become very upset, repeating “I didn’t mean to.” He was so upset that he started hyperventilating and had to be calmed down in another room. I know the feeling. Yeah, it’s been that kind of day.

After school he seemed all right. He was back to his usual self, and he held me to a promise I made earlier in the week…that I would take him bowling. I’d nearly forgotten. Before I left the office I looked up the open bowling schedule at Elsie’s. I was in luck. Open bowling lasts until 6:30 on Thursdays. But wait, what’s this fine print? Must have at least 3 bowlers per lane? Geez, guess that rules out dates. Unless it’s a double date. Or something less conventional. Uh, anyhow. I was tempted to head over there and ask a passerby to be our third. Instead I bit the bullet and took the lad to the Bryant Lake Bowl. Bad idea. They only have a few decrepit lanes to begin with, and one was completely out of commission. The only open lane was without those bumpers that would have kept the boy’s ball out of the gutter (he knocked down a total of ten pins). The icing on the cake? The lane server couldn’t find the kid-friendly ramp thingie, that would have helped the little man’s ball make it all the way down the lane at a much speedier clip. Durr. At least he still had a good time. And their vegan mock duck rolls are damned tasty. But next time we’re going to a more upscale alley. Even if it means dragging along an accomplice (J, I’m looking at you…in my brain).

Bonus: I splurged, again, and sprung for tickets for the little man and I…to see the Shangri-La Chinese Acrobats on Sunday, at the Ordway. I couldn’t help it. I’m still bummed about going to Cirque de Soleil without him - he was too young at the time - and I think he’ll really enjoy this. I know I will. Also this weekend, the opening reception for Pulling Focus is tomorrow night (hi Jody!) at Rosalux Gallery. I’d love to go, but around that time I expect to be curled up in my pajamas. Like I am, right this very moment, missing TV on the Radio in the main room. Oh well.
Plus: I find so much of the good good stuff via my flickr contacts. Today one of them posted this photo, from SXSW, which led me to Confessions of a Superhero “…a feature length documentary that chronicles the lives of three mortal men and one woman who make their living working as superhero characters on Hollywood Boulevard.” Apparently Batman struggles with his anger. Who doesn’t? But I need to see that.
And: After my recent rant about the Dresden Files I found out that author Jim Butcher will be in town soon, doing a signing for the next book. I’ll bet he’s encountering a number of annoyed fans on this tour. I might be one of them.

In the “too much of a good thing” department, I don’t think my poor body is ready for the next level. Yesterday morning I was so pleased to find the gym nearly empty, due to daylight savings, that I took my workout up a notch. Or two. Or maybe three. After my standard block of time on the treadmill I actually ran around the track (usually I gently lope around it). I don’t know what got into me but I went at it full bore until I thought my heart would burst from my chest, kind of Aliens-style but without the wee little alien. Afterwards I went home but didn’t have time for lounging. I took a quick shower and then we went back out, hoofing it around Highland Park with the Twin Cities flickr photowalk crew. Good times were had but I’m paying the price. I’m all hurty. My left hip aches and I’ve been limping around like an old woman. This morning I could’ve used a little more sleep, some time to recuperate. But my internal chronometer was already thrown out of whack. The little man woke up at 4:45am Saturday morning. And remained awake until his usual bedtime that night. Sadly this didn’t make our Monday morning wake up call any less painful. I have a feeling we’ll both be turning in early tonight.

Bonus: The lad finally has a flickr photostream of his own. It’s good to see him using my trusty old Olympus, but he will need to take better care of it. I caught him climbing around yesterday with it dangling from his neck, bouncing against a concrete guard rail. Sigh.
Plus: Broiled asparagus really is better.
And: Recently I mentioned that the Minneapolis Library branch nearest my office was closed, due to budget cuts. What I didn’t know? There was also talk of tearing it down. Thankfully the city stepped in, vowing to preserve the building. Architect Ralph Rapson is still alive and kicking. It would be a shame for him to bear witness to another of his creations being destroyed.

The other day I put a fresh battery in a broken clock. Now I cringe once every sixty seconds, when it emits a sad little croaking click. The minute hand struggles past the hour hand but the hour hand just won’t budge. It is determined to remain in the six o’clock hour indefinitely. Which really confuses the little man at bedtime. I should probably get up, remove the battery, then throw said clock away. But the couch is just so cozy and warm. Speaking of…I’m waiting for the weather to warm up properly, so I can begin the big purge. Nearly eight years worth of unnecessary crap has collected in my home. And it needs to go. I will vanquish the clutter! Take that conspicuous consumerism! Only thing is, uh, when I returned home this afternoon there was a notice from UPS stuck to the door. I don’t even know what package I missed. I’ve really got to stop buying stuff online. No bingeing. Only purging. And then I will feel free.

Bonus: Fascinating photos of people sleeping. Series #8 will look familiar to anyone who has tried to sleep with a child resting on their head.
Plus: This weekend The Host starts showing at the Uptown Theater.
And: Captain America is dead. But I did see him today. On flickr.

We’re snowed in again today. Funny thing is, the little man’s school was already scheduled to be closed so I’d lined up alternate childcare. But getting us from here to there won’t be happening. Thankfully we’re fairly well stocked. We have food. We have entertainment (though I could use more books).

• We do need light bulbs. I buy our groceries at the co-op and don’t think to pick up light bulbs while there, because they only carry the hella expensive compact fluorescent kind. Yes, I should be using those. And if I lived in Australia they would be mandatory soon.
• Yesterday I saw the UPS lady struggling up our hill with her big delivery truck and felt sorry for her. I felt even worse when I realized she was coming to our door. To make a critical delivery of…pants. For the little man. So yeah, we are now well stocked in the pants department (seriously, though, the kid’s going through another growth spurt).
• In the afternoon I forced myself outside to shovel. Again. I invited the lad to join me. He declined. After a 40 minute session I re-entered the house, ready to collapse. But it was then that he decided he wanted to go outside to play after all. I could’ve let him loose in the backyard on his own but opted to tag along. And we did finally locate our buried sled. As soon as I’d finished digging it out the kid went back into the house. Guess we’ll use it today instead.
• Last night the little man fell asleep with his head on my shoulder, as we were watching a movie in my room. So sweet. Later he woke me up with his knees pushing sharply in to the small of my back. That was a different kind of tender moment.

Bonus: When worlds collide. This Stephin Merritt appearance garners the capital A for Awkward award. And for my fellow cephalopod lovers, the SquidPod iPod cozy and a squid hat.
Plus: How much do I adore Sondre Lerche? He’s played in town quite a lot over the years, and I’ve missed him each time. Right this very moment I’m listening to his latest, Phantom Punch, and am determined to catch his upcoming 7th Street Entry show.
And: Due to perpetual budget problems the Minneapolis Public Library system has shut down three of its branches, including the one closest to my office. Grrrrr. But they’re having a grand re-opening for another branch tomorrow. If all goes well the East Lake location will become our new neighborhood library, after we move (though Riverview will always have a place in my heart).

I didn’t watch the Oscars last night, but I did spend some time reading the live fugging of said awards show. It was infinitely more satisfying. So condensed, so pithy. And I enjoyed the visuals today. You know, the fug girls’ day after round up. There was entertaining text to go with the photos, of course. Especially associated with Eva Green, who was being mocked as she always looks like the undead. The catchiest phrase? “Your sweet existence-fuel is mine!” Which I’m now tempted to exclaim at irregular intervals. Oh, GFY. Such a guilty pleasure but a pleasure just the same.

I also spent a good portion of last night assaulted by the sounds of struggling cars on my street. More than once I saw drivers give up and reverse all the way down the hill. This morning it was my turn. After re-digging the car out I didn’t even attempt the hill. But it still took some doing just to get out of the driveway and out into the still-unplowed street. I made it the long way round the block, to a busier thoroughfare. After that the morning commute was a cakewalk. As was the return trip this afternoon. Until we pulled up to the house. And saw a solid four foot high wall of compacted snow and ice completely barring the driveway. I parked on the street, let the little man into the house, then had at it for about a half hour to no avail. I cleared away one quarter of it, at best. And my back was already aching from yesterday’s session. So I’m crying uncle. Guess I’ll use my driveway again come spring.

Bonus: Last week I intended to post about an amazing South Korean artist named Yeondoo Jung. I was lucky enough to see his site before it went down (no doubt due to his being BoingBoinged). Thankfully the Good Reverend posted a sample from the Wonderland series…which “attempts to recreate the fantastic euphoria of young children’s crayon artwork”. Man, would I ever love to do that with the little man’s art.
Plus: Speaking of the lad, I love taking him to the Walker Art Center, but it looks like next Saturday’s family program may be a bit on the mature end for him. I think he’d just be bored. Hmmm.
And: The recent increase in comment spam is killing me softly.