The week - A retrospective

I walked into Sarah's daycare classroom and my little one was just coming out of the bathroom. I watched her head to the sink and wash her hands. "You just missed it!" Ms. Dawson said, breathlessly, as she joined Ms. Kizzie in applauding Sarah. "She used the potty. She's been doing it all day! She's a little constipated, by the way". I beamed at Sarah as she turned off the water and pulled some paper towel down from the dispenser to dry her hands. The other children in the room were gathered around her like she'd just made the winning touchdown. It was quite a scene. "She'll be potty trained by next week, Mom" Ms. Dawson asserted. I thought of Sarah sitting on Kate's little potty at home. She's so tiny that I have to lift her up and plop her down on it when she asks me to. She's never really used the potty, but I knew she was considering it last weekend when she found me in the kitchen, pulled her pants down and said "potty!" Then, it was too late, but it was nice to know she'd made the appropriate connections. The thought of not buying diapers fills me with glee, but I must confess to just a hint of regret that she's growing up so very fast. At that age, Kate would have sat in her own filth indefinitely.

Somehow, we're still in the midst of a life-threatening drought. I have no idea why the water table isn't replenished, I believe the freshly graded hole in my back yard is currently holding enough to keep the lawns of every Atlantan fresh and green all summer. Every lawn but mine, of course, because my lawn is nothing but mud. It's raining right now. Right now, when the concrete guy and the plumbers could be getting the slab done. But they're not. Because it won't stop raining. I should've known that would happen. Start and outdoor project and the skies open. You're welcome, Georgia. My white boxer is now looking more like a fawn. Also, it's raining in the house again.

One of my favorite authors, Matt Ruff, completed a new book while I wasn't even looking and Jeremiah bought it for me. It's called Bad Monkeys and, despite the misleading title and cover art, there's not a single monkey in the story. As is the norm for him, it's completely different from anything else he's published, but wonderful to read. I've been staying up later than I should each night, trying to get through it before I realize just how exhausted I am. Now that it's Friday, I have a pretty good idea of just how exhausted I am.

To cheer myself up about the house project that will probably not be completed before I die of natural causes at the age of 98, I've been listening to Vampire Weekend incessantly. I can't stop! I haven't been this in love with an album since I first heard the Shins. I recommend you go get right now if you don't already own it. To show you how serious I am about that, I'm going to stop writing so you have no reason to linger. Off you go!

Hooray! Spellcheck is back! Spellcheck really doesn't think "should have" should've been contracted.