Notes from the Edge of Spring

The girls and I walked to school today. Nothing like good weather to bring out the crazies. One told me that Babe Ruth was the best hitter ever--either that, or the best singer ever. He was hard to understand. I couldn't argue, even if I'd wanted to, coz he's crazy. Better to keep moving and stay within sight of the library. Livin' the good life in Kenosha!

In other news, I'm beginning new projects very soon. I have this scary fluttery stomach feeling like I always do, part excitement and part abject terror. Starting a new story is always fun, especially because, in most cases, I've had ideas for weeks while wrapping up the last one. New ideas get insistent and bitchy. BUT, holy crap, it's another big g'damn mountain to climb. And I do this why?? Oh yeah, because reaching the other side of said mountain is the best, best, best. And dude, I can't say no to pirates!

Mom says I never talk about Keven on my blog. I talk about the kids. Talk mostly about myself. But never Keven. OK: Keven Update. He's working. He likes his job. He's doing fine, mostly staying up too late and surfing too much, occasionally playing CIV and taking the kids to soccer. He's not nearly as adventurous with music these days, but he'll argue otherwise. And he still thinks I'm hot, which alternates between awesome and annoying, depending on how busy I am. In other words, he's a happy camper dad hubby wordaday dude. Maybe he'll stop by later and contradict me about some or all of this.

And it looks like Mom will be coming up for a visit next week. Neat!

Now go, partake in Andrew Bird or Patrick Watson. I'm feeling all evangelical about them, at least until Panic's new album comes out later this month.

And if I only could,
I'd make a deal with God,
And I'd get him to swap our places--
Be running up that road,
Be running up that hill,
With no problems.
"Running Up That Hill (Deal with God)" by Kate Bush

No comments: