I read about this in Crain’s New York, and I’ve been fascinated by it for weeks. Unfortunately, I do not have a table and chairs to eat at - UNTIL NOW because I COOKED IN THE KITCHEN OMG I NEED TO LIE DOWN FOR A MINUTE.

Ok. Better now.

I cooked pasta with chicken and red sauce, ON THE STOVE TOP OMG with REAL FIRE, and had dinner with Hubby IN A CHAIR at the COUNTER which WAS INSTALLED LAST WEEKEND.

Seriously. I’m going to start hyperventilating.

But as for Freebird, he’s too short for most chairs and he HATES sitting in a booster seat. Behold: the Kaboost. I hope he digs it. I’m really excited - which likely means he’ll be utterly unimpressed - and did I mention I COOKED FOOD IN THE KITCHEN?

I did?

How about the fact that I WASHED POTS in the SINK AND RAN the DISHWASHER!?

Pics coming soon. I promise.

Last night Hubby, who is Uber Dad, took Baba O’Riley to his nine month checkup.

Side note: NINE MONTHS?! WTF IS UP WITH THAT?

Baba is over 22 pounds, and is officially Too Big for the Infant Carrier. I’ve been resisting this for so long, I’m really peeved that he’s outgrown it to the point that it’s a requirement that we get the new seat for Freebird so that Baba can have his carseats. I like the infant carrier! It’s a basket! With a baby in it! I can sling it over my arm, and still have one hand free to grab Freebird when it’s time to leave school. Now I have super dude to corral, with Baba the Giant Baby on my hip, no basket in sight. Well, I will when the new car seats arrive.

Of course, I should look at the bright side. When the new seats arrive and we have to install them, I will have no choice but to dispatch both cars to the car wash with the super powered vacuums to rid the backseat of 2 years of child detritus. At the very least, my car will be clean.

After working nonstop for months, literally, I have completed the big manuscript, uploaded it, and am now, for the time being, done.

I’ve been putting things aside for “after it’s done” for weeks, and now that “it’s done” I have so much to do I don’t know what to do first. What I wanna do is sit around, do nothing, eat, read, and sleep. But there’s house renovation to complete, summer to plan, vacation to figure out, weekends to fill with good fun, and many, many things to straighten, clean, purge or otherwise organize.

Hm. Pass me a book. I really, really just want to turn my brain off for awhile.

Manuscript: 108k words

Morag: Tired.  But happy.

All done! I did it! Commence singing of much joy and happiness. WOOO! 

T-minus one day until the manuscript is due.

I have motherfucking pinkeye.

Fuck that.

That is all.

You say it’s my birthday? It is, it is!

Happy day to me! I’m home, in my jammies, working nonstop because The Book is due on a few days, but it’s quiet and cool, and I’m happy.

I woke up to a crawly, happy Baba O’Riley, who crawled all over me, giving me raspberries and clapping his hands, and then I got Freebird dressed and ready for school - normally I’ve left for work by the time they wake up. And then, as Hubby was taking the boys to the car, Freebird said, “Bye bye mommy. You can go write now! Time to write!”

Yup, you are so right, dude.

Yay! Happy birthday to me! I hope your day is marvelous as well!

Here are things you should not do when it is 100 degrees:

1. Be in Manhattan. There, it’s at least 110.
2. Be sick with a migraine.
3. Be sick in Manhattan. It’s 110 degrees and it takes an hour to get home.
4. Be sick in your office bathroom in Manhattan. It’s not 110 degrees there but you’re still an hour from home.
5. Be sick in the Port Authority Bus Terminal.
6. Be sick in the Port Authority Bus Terminal in a garbage can. It’s more than 110 in the garbage can, at least judging from the smell. However, the smell moves the sick part right along at a clipping pace.
7. Be sick in the Port Authority Bus Terminal in a garbage can in 110 degree heat by yourself, still an hour from home.

If you can avoid those seven things, you’ll be in a much better place than I was the past two days. Thank heavens for central air in my house, because I got in bed and didn’t leave for 2 days.

And may the person who invented percocet be gifted with spontaneous chocolate today and ever after.