weapons of massdistraction

My weekend started off well enough. Kicked it off by meeting up with an old friend Saturday morning. And by old, I mean the person, other than my Dad, who I have been in continuous contact with the longest. We were classmates from pre-school through our senior year of high school.

And, as with most of the people I like, he moved away…not long after graduation. For the last several years he’s been living in Atlanta. Long enough to lose his Minnesotan accent entirely, replacing it with a muddled and hard to place patois. He regaled me with tales of his life there, working for the Cartoon Network, seeing movies at the Starlight Six…a fabulous looking drive-in theater with six screens. By visiting family this weekend he was missing the annual Drive Invasion, a weekend of 15 bands and 8 B-movies (with vintage movie trailers) for just $25. There’s always next year (I wouldn’t mind heading down for it myself). We spent some time reminiscing about our former teachers and classmates…but strangely our perspectives seem to be so different, with each of us retaining very disparate sets of memories. Certainly there were some we shared, but often he would mention a name, one that sounded familiar and I felt I should know, but I just couldn’t conjure up a face to go with it. Guess we’re getting old. Old enough that too many of our former classmates have already passed away.

After seeing Noel I’d planned to continue on to family day at the Walker, but the little man was far too antsy and demanded to go home. I acquiesced, as I often do, figuring it was about time for lunch anyhow. After walking in the door, though, I was ready to turn around and get back in the car. The husband can really throw me for a loop sometimes. When we’d left him he’d just gotten home from one of his overnight shifts. I expected him to be vegging in front of his computer. Instead of relaxing, though, he decided to do something productive. Like me, his motivation comes so rarely, in fits and starts, that I stand back and watch when the mood strikes him. But I have to question the wisdom of ripping up the last bit of carpet in the house, in the middle of the hottest, most humid day of the weekend, without knowing what was hidden underneath. Results were mixed. In the hallway at the top of the stairs, the area bordering on the three bedrooms and bathroom, the wood floors are in good shape…as are the bottom set of steps. The landing is a bit sketchy, with some sort of faux parquet layer glued on top. That leaves the top set of steps. Absolutely dreadful. The treads are covered in flaking white paint (possibly lead-based), with the remains of some sort of brown glue running down the centers of each in a wide band (likely some sort of old non-slip carpet pad stuff). And at least one step is badly cracked. Rather than trying to sand and stain them, the husband is looking into replacing them. Himself. I’m a bit uneasy, with thoughts of the spice rack that Homer built. Nonetheless, I tried to do my part in phase one of this impromptu project. I got down and dirty, pulling out carpet staples with my delicate little hands. After about five of them my trigger finger was blistered…and soon my knuckles were all torn up. Not to mention the debris that’s been wreaking havoc with my already aggravated allergies. I wonder how useless I’ll be in phase two.

I’m afraid to leave the house today. Not because of the blazing heat, or the fresh memory of yesterday’s disastrous outing to the beach, with the little man dragging me along on his hellish emotional rollercoaster ride. No, today we’re waiting on the UPS delivery person. The little man’s fifth birthday is just around the corner, so plans for his party need to kick into high gear. I let the boy decide on this year’s theme. For his third birthday it was Buzz Lightyear. For the fourth, dinosaurs. This year, lo and behold, he has chosen Batman. Which is odd, considering how little exposure he’s had to the caped crusader. Yet. The new Batman animated series premieres on the WB a week from tomorrow, and we’ll be watching. And I did watch an awful lot of Batman Beyond, when he was just an infant. But my Batman comics have been off limits as a) he can’t read yet and b) the content isn’t exactly rated G (and next year’s film won’t be either). Even so, the little man is the one who picked out Batman boxer shorts at the store. And the goods for this year’s shindig. Maybe Batman is just in our blood. And will hopefully be in our house shortly. After the package arrives I’ve got to get those party invites out asap.

We’re already missing our houseguest, April, who headed back to Beijing on Friday. She left behind a few things, some intentionally, others not so much. To the little man she bequeathed a nifty little tape measure/key chain that he’d become enamored of. To me, an old box of hardcore swag and a Wong Kar-wai DVD box set. Sadly she mislaid her pair of backup glasses and her contact lens case, which I didn’t notice until it was too late. Wish I could return them to her in person, but the airfare would be a touch spendy.

On Saturday we were slated to see a different out of town visitor, our brother-in-law’s sister from Sri Lanka, but another one unexpectedly turned up beforehand. My old pal Anton was here from Chicago for the one day Thrash Fest 6 at the Triple Rock. The little man and I squeezed in a quick visit with him at a playground near the venue, but had to cut it shorter than we would have liked…in order to retrieve the husband and head to the family function, which was fun too. Vegan chocolate cake was involved.

Sunday was the neighbor friend’s 6th birthday party. On girl power: though he enjoyed himself, my transparent little man was often confused and/or overwhelmed by the horde of 6 and 7 year-old girls…who could turn on a dime from insipid sweetness to overwhelming snottiness. It’s something he’s going to have to get used to.

And finally, some complaints and compliments:

• Farel Dalrymple’s Pop Gun War really is unlike anything you’ve ever seen. In a good way.
• Sam Brown finally updated Exploding Dog. I like these two best.
• I’ve found myself inexplicably exhausted all the time. I’ve been able to get the basics taken care of…ensuring we’re all well-fed, dressed in clean clothes, and the trash is taken out regularly…but I haven’t got the motivation for much beyond that.
• My favorite pair of old Levis are now sporting a large hole in the ass, and I’m not sure how many times I wore them before noticing it.
• I want my own bathroom. One that would forever be off-limits to males of the species, no matter how well-trained they might think they are.
• The roof of my mouth itches. Damn allergies.
• I’ll never give up my flip-flops.
• Fall is on its way in a hurry. The little man starts school one week from today, and the leaves have been turning for the last month already.
• Will have to listen to this a few more times before I make up my mind.

That should do it…for this, the last day of August. This week…enjoying Bee Season, and rushing around to take care of last-minute items on the old To Do list. This weekend, more out of town visitors.

I didn’t have to check to know that the pollen count in our area would be considered “very high”. The little man confirmed my suspicions. Earlier we were talking about color so I asked:

“What color are mommy’s eyes?”
(We have this terrible habit of referring to ourselves in the third person, and I swear, mommy didn’t start it.)
Instead of saying the usual “green” he replied with “red”.

And man, am I ever feeling it…and feeling hopeless and helpless after trying every allergy medication on the market, prescription and non, and getting the runaround from our doctor’s office and insurance company. Desperation led to sudafed consumption, which has only caused me to feel queasy and jittery while my nose still runs like a faucet. Right about now I’d love to move to pollen-free Iceland, if only for a little while.
Bonus: We’ve also just become aware of the fact that, because of the husband’s cornea transplant last year, he is ineligible to donate blood…due to some concerns about Creutzfeld-Jacob Disease (CJD). I’m damned sure the eye surgeon never mentioned anything about this. Fun.

The little man and I are currently enjoying a rare treat…playing host and hostess to a house guest. My dear friend April has been living and teaching in Beijing the last couple of years, but has been stateside this month visiting friends and family across the country. We have her for just a few days as, sadly, she heads back to Beijing tomorrow afternoon. After which I will resume regular posting. Sigh.