Ol was up all night last night puking. It was chock full of salmon, covered two beds and was so vile that Tom nearly booted too. Ol and I ended up in the basement where we slept fitfully -periodic yakking will do that to you- but sweetly until it became clear that he was not going to school today. Nutmeg seemed enthused by this outward tossing and subsequently puked huge ribbons of just-eaten cat food all over our dining room. Later, I found small pools of Nut pee in the kids costume bins. Cuz it seems he has another UTI.
Needless to say, I won a medal today for sheer amount of laundry done.
Currently, Percy, who, in unanimity? support? jealousy? stupidity?, sprayed the basement couch with a wreath of urine today too, is sleeping in my left armpit, having just wiped his soggy eye boogers on my previously-clean shirt. #newitemforlaundrybin
And Jack, who I've officially tucked in eight times now, tried to convince me during his last trip downstairs that yes indeed he had washed his face even though his cheeks maintained a thin film of peanut butter from which hung celery strings and an ort of raisin. This "mask" betrayed him and he finally agreed to really wash up.
Despite this utter nutbagness, I am in good spirits because I:
- made two Reine de Saba cakes today;
- heard that all the food I catered to last night's party was "amazing" and a complete success;
- smiled enormously when I pondered two recent compliments [1. I have been given the nickname Gams Grossi as tribute to legs and last name. and 2. I was told that my Daily Em-i-lis is a much-admired acquaintance's 'morning coffee.'];
- thrilled when two women whom I love and admire told me 1. "You, on a regular basis, inspire/empower me to use my voice." and 2. "You give others permission to feel/voice things honestly."
- have completely and unabashedly come to terms with my adoration of olive oil; and
- laughed out loud and with utter appreciation when, during our had-to-happen trip to the mall today (Jack needs specific attire for his holiday concert which is on Friday), Oliver said as we bought more than we'd intended, "Well, you did say bringing me shopping with you could be dangerous."
I don't often feel comfortable tooting my own horn, but shit, people, after all the puke and pee and endless rain and general assorted crap, I'm tooting away over here tonight. Just tooting to beat sixty, and I'm cool with that.
I roasted a celery root for dinner -random; obviously husband is not here- and ate the whole thing in front of a lovely fire whilst doing a crossword and sipping some wine. And now I wish to leave you with two articles.
One, the 2014 Haters Guide to the Williams-Sonoma catalog, is funny as balls. Literally, it almost shouldn't be legal to laugh that hard as tiny droplets of snot fly from each nostril over and over and over again. The second, about racial bias, is as serious and important as the Wms-Sonoma biz is crazy-funny.