I woke up this morning to a large cat on my stomach and two mostly-naked boys vying for sides of me. It was nice really- everything and everyone all a'purr. And then something tweaked the loving balance, plunging it into mayhem and we had to jump ship and head for the kitchen. Alas. The boys are now wearing "jet-packs" -J's is his giant, rolling carry-on bag, and Ol's is a hilarious one Tom made from part of a wine shipment box and some Duck tape- and racing around the house like loons. I hope they get all this out before we get to the airport. Send me vibes, peeps. I can tell Tom is literally quivering with the desire to be quiet and alone. I get that completely. He'll have four days in his own home by himself, and I'm happy for him.
The pie I made on Saturday was fully devoured by last night. Save for a piece I gave to M, a friend who never says no to my offers of food, bless her, T and I ate the whole thing. I had it for breakfast and twice more yesterday. Excellent!
I also awoke to the news that Michael Brown was shot six times. SIX. In case you have been under a rock, he is -was- the unarmed black teenager in Ferguson, MO, who was killed by policemen last week. I am seriously angry about this and Eric Garner's death; he too was killed by a policeman, by a chokehold on a New York street. I have more to say about this but I'm not ready.