Spacy Turns 30

First and foremost, Happy Birthday to Stacy, who is celebrating the Big 3-0 today all jetsetter-style in Italy.

I've been hitting the vicodin for two days to comfort this nasty infection, so I've been out of commission. I'm feeling better today, but my ear is still swollen shut.

This weekend I took The Boys to visit the blindfolded horses. A runner had brought them some apples so they were hanging over the fence. They're sweethearts, tho' I still can't figure out what's up with the mesh blindfolds. For about 10 minutes The Boys were fine with the horses--until Moo looked up, saw that these horses were 25x his size and started doing his piggy-squeal. Most of you know what this is. This led Baby to do his ferocious bark--y'know the one like fatty is gonna attack you. It was time for us to go. There is a lovely little trail by the horse farm, which we walked until Moo was about to pass out. It was too long of a walk for them. I realized when I got back home and Baby started throwing up on our new living room carpet. It's a cheapie, but Dan and I both really like it. Like the Big Lebowski says, "it ties the room together."

Saturday I went to get the brows waxed again. I mistakenly went back to the same dimwit because I was unsure of other places to go. Well, this time dimwit dropped wax in my hair. It didn't come out until I showered the next day. She told me that I didn't have to pay, but I insisted (she actually did do a good job on the brows). She charged me five bucks and I left her a dollar tip. She did not say thank you.

I hit the Cornell Apple Orchard before I picked Danny boy up on Saturday. He had another one of those hellacious group meetings--FRI, SAT and SUN. Poor thing. I picked up some baby potatoes and a lovely spice soap. My total cost was $4.03.

We hit The Commons on Saturday afternoon for some pizza at Gino's, good NYC-style pizza. The Commons was hoppin'. All the hippies, musicians, stoners, college students were out in full force. Most of those stores on The Commons are not very useful; however, it's nice to still see local businesses. Not like in the W.C. where commercial rents are so high that Moms and Pops can no longer afford to keep their shop open without having to charge patrons astronomical prices. I like that people still make things and have a venue for which to sell their goods.

I finished a Joyce Carol Oates book this weekend called Solstice. Magnificent writing. It chronicles the lives of two women whose friendship dictates a deep and sophisticated emotional intimacy. The relationship is plagued with all of those vices contained in a lovers' relationship--jealousy, uncertainty... The ending is rather dubious. And left me begging, "what the fuck?" but I'm over it now. I started John Grisham's The Summons. His books are slow moving just like the folks in the Southern communities he writes of. Suddenly, there is a bang, and the book gets grooving. Thank God, because by then I'm ready to put it down.

Last week I had a dream about a tiny chicken. I should clarify that it's not a live one, but a supermarket bird. Anyway, got it into my head that I should bake one. Dan came home from the store with the very same chicken from my dream. I baked it with those lovely baby potatoes, some onions and garlic. I baked some brussell sprouts ( I know most of you are spewing), and it was a nice meal.

In the news:

• Jen and Brad are officially done.
• Paris and Paris are officially done.
• Nicolas Cage and his 20 year old wife had a baby. I like Cage, but this is a bit skeevy.

So I'm in the bathroom and I call out to Dan to please put the toilet seat down when he's finished. Normally he does, but when he forgets, I must be sure to nag him about it. In perfect timing, he farts loudly and tells me to "Take That." Little shit. Signing off.

Why Fema Never Got the Message