"You want to be a part of my life, I'm not editing out the parts you don't like." - Arnold, in "Torch Song Trilogy"

L, this quote is for you, love.

[Clarification: The other L, dear D/L. And not you, my sweet Aussie L. Why are all of you named L names? Sheesh. Must I say Dr L? If I must...]

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I seem to have blog block.

So – here it is, all the news that is fit to print, in no particular order (I have to say, no one seems to read on weekends anyway, so I have some time to recover):

Primo, who spent two days at home this week, and almost all of those two days hacking up lungs, went to the doctor this morning and is home resting on the couch, wrapped in blankets and armed with albuterol and a nebulizer, a stack of Beverly Cleary books, and Shel Silverstein’s Lafcadio.

Seg, who wet his bed twice and then MY bed as well last night, also was taken to the doctor where he was tested for diabetes. He is, thank God, negative. So it’s just a developmental thing and the doctor assures us he will likely grow out of it within the year. Meanwhile, NO ONE is permitted in Mama’s bed again EVER.

Terzo had to come to work with me for what I thought would be fifteen minutes and turned out to be more like an hour; he did manage to charm the pants off everyone in the library in that time. Thankfully, we are never busy first thing Saturday morning, and he was mostly content to run his cars in and out, and in and out, and in and out of a cardboard box. Although I did feed him a small bag of Whoppers, too. Most of which he sucked the chocolate off of and then spit the rest out into my hand.

It’s forty-five degrees today! What’s up with that? I was hoping to check out the duck pond at the park as a possibility for some ice skating…

I finished everything I was going to read from David Foster Wallace’s Consider the Lobster and it was just fine. Actually, the lobster piece was interesting; the Tracey Austin piece was hilarious; the piece about the adult film (AVN) awards was…disturbing. Nothing else really did that much for me. Life is too short to read about stuff about which I could not care less. For that matter, it dawns on me that life is too short to read about adult film awards.

I was going to start Inheritance of Loss but just couldn’t deal with it last night, so I picked up one of the books I scored at my extravagant Half-Price Books bacchanalia last week (which I STILL haven’t written about, I should just post a list a la Lazy Cow), Maisie Dobbs. So far, maybe a wee bit pretentious, but fun. Not totally light fluff, and interesting. If you like the Mary Russell books (Peg, I mean you!), I am thinking you will like these.

I am considering taking home John Connelly’s The Book of Lost Things.
I am considering going to see “Pan’s Labyrinth,” by myself if need be, this weekend. Because I want to see it.
And H does not.
Which means I will never ever rent it.
Although I admit I am enjoying our current marathon of “Arrested Development” very very much.

I just want to go home, peel off these dratted tights - God, how I hate tights - put on some comfy clothes, and eat pizza for dinner. Is that so wrong? Said sentiment is what led me to search "Torch Song Trilogy" for quotes; must've been the Harvey Fierstein.

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This makes me to laugh and laugh. I remember it as being part of a guest appearance of John Denver's on "The Muppet Show" but I must have imagined that.


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So much for blog block.