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A Strange And Imperious Zero-gravity Grace

This morning I enjoyed watching Starfire’s Starfire vlog post (that is one beautiful car, and a well done and very Minnesotan story). But something else in it caught my eye, near the beginning. There was a guy on a motorcycle. A motorcylce with a sidecar. And in the sidecar was a little kid. Recently someone at work planted the seed of an idea that I can’t seem to shake. You see, this co-worker has a beautiful Russian URal bike…and now I find myself longing for a Troyka to tool around in. The little man would be so stoked to go cruising around in a sidecar like that. Such is the stuff of dreams. In reality we don’t even have a garage.

We were out and about earlier today, to see some Classic Looney Tunes at the air-conditioned Oak Street Cinema, and afterwards to pick up a few groceries. What I completely forgot to pick up was the new Harry Potter book. And now it’s too hot and we’re too tired for us to venture out again. Drat.

The husband’s imminent return is more imminent than I thought. I misread his itinerary and had it in my head that he was coming back Monday night. Turns out it’s tomorrow night. Doh. And we’ve been partying teen-movie style since he left. Going to have to clear out all those empties in a hurry. As if. But really, the week went by much more smoothly (and quickly) than I’d anticipated.

Bonus: A movie I’ve been wanting to see for ages, The American Astronaut, arrived via GreenCine the other day. Now my big dilemma is whether or not to wait for the husband before viewing it. Since he took Olympos away with him, when I was in the middle of reading it (even though it may not be the best book ever written), I’m disinclined to wait. Does that make me petty? Don’t answer.
Plus: Another San Francisco-related realization. When we’re there, I can stop by the McSweeney’s Pirate Store, at 826 Valencia…on the way to Giant Robot, even. Yay!
And: From the Too Much Information department…the squeamish may want to skip this nugget. So. I’m worried that the little man is a bit under the weather (or, who knows, maybe it is because of the weather). But he was in the bathroom a while ago when he excitedly called out to me “Mommy, mommy, I have fake poop!” Perplexed I inched my way down the hallway and he gestured for me to look into the toilet. I tried to avert my eyes but glanced in anyhow. I can safely say…I haven’t seen anything so strange and discolored come out of his little body since he was a baby. Further evidence that the boy isn’t feeling well…just now he handed over his unfinished ice cream cone, the one he’d been wanting since before dinner, and quietly said he was all done. How sad is that?

partially eaten ice cream cone