This weekend, posting will be light. I'm working on an essay for . . . drum roll . . . print publication!
After fourteen years doing I-don't-even-know-what (law school, practicing law, having kids), it will be nice to see my name in print again, with all the attendant emotions: Pride, astonishment, embarrassment, and more embarrassment. ("Was that piece terrible? Did I make a mistake? My name is on it. Gah.")
But first -- literary endeavors aside -- I am going to take a walk, pop by the nail salon, and buy some bread. It is amazing how much bread this family eats: all kinds of bread! Yesterday when the kids were at their dad's, I brought home sushi for dinner, then proceeded to eat half a loaf of cinnamon bread dipped in milk. And then the sushi. #fail #yum #bread
To top it off -- and please do not read this as an endorsement of divorce, because it is far preferable to have a happy family in which everyone is together all the time, etc. -- this morning I slept till 9 a.m. Nine, ladies! The kids are at another house and doing fine. Every time I go over there to pick them up, they've gotten in a fight with a large mallet-shaped balloon I foolishly bought my son at a parade, and I'm like: "Yep, things are exactly the same here. Except their dad cooks more than I do. Cool."
One final, disorganized word, then I am off! About the spiders: I am beginning to wonder how many spiders are going to boldly take up residence in my bathroom, the kids' room, and everywhere else in this house, safe in the knowledge that I am a softie who can recite large swaths of Charlotte's Web?
Since we concluded James and the Giant Peach, which ends with the solemn admonition to "never kill a spider," the local spiders have pretty much set up camp in here and told their friends. It is all over Spider Facebook now: The humans at [our address] have been thoroughly propagandized and, at most -- if you are huge and menacing -- will throw you out the front door in a plastic cup. (You can keep the cup! It makes a wonderful bassinet for spider eggs.)
With all due apologies to Charlotte and Miss Spider, you are a presumptuous species. Do not push me. Find somewhere else to "spin your webs," or you will be unceremoniously flushed down the toilet like every other flushable thing I wish to never see again. But first, can I get the number of your amazing PR firm?
Oh, they're busy with their other client, Ryan Gosling? Okay. Just a thought.