Sometimes Run And Chase the Moon

Today is Buckwheat’s second birthday, celebrated in Colorado. I would have worn my tutu, but I was turning over the compost heap and I was afraid of catching the pitchfork.


Feet Know Where They Want Me

It’s 10:05 p.m. Pete and I finally just sat down and put our feet up after a grocery shopping trip to the Pathmark of the Damned on Route 1 in Edison, where nothing was on the shelves and zombies shambled through the frozen foods aisle. I’m so tired I could sleep for a week, but I’d wake up to find my stepmother Darla on the welcome mat and she’s got the appetite of a linebacker. Obviously, I should get up and go cook something. Today is the Solstice, we just saw lightning and the sky just opened up. Topaz has curled up on my lap while Sweetpea snores gently to my right. About two weeks ago:

Tata: I love you to bits, but it’s time for me to throw my crinolines over my head and –
Miss Sasha: MOM! It’s bedtime for the kids and we have to leave.
Tata: Oh, thank Demeter, it’s time for Grandma to start drinking –
Miss Sasha: MOM! Panky repeats everything! Don’t say that or I’m going to get phone calls from pre-school.
Tata: Then make sure he pronounces everything correctly: It’s time for Grandma to start drinking.
Miss Sasha: MOM! I’ve got a toddler under each arm and I’ll break down the door with my forehead if I have to.
Tata: Good night, my darlings!

There’s more than one way to get some peace and quiet.