perchance to dream

rain at last. a weekend of cold nights and soggy grass. we had a wet, dead bird, mirage like, on the front steps. somehow ernie disposed of it appropriately when no one else was looking. how does one do this? before i checked to see if it was still there this morning i wondered about the location of rubber gloves and black garbage bags, disinfectant and wire brushes.

the boys boast green gooey coughs throughout the day, ever constant in the dark of night. they drink juice and take vitamins. some nights we dimetapp them into a hard, cough-less slumber and everyone has relief.



we are all behind on sleep and have stupid and critical conversations, grumpy and sleepy. and yet, when the boys sleep, we, their parents, do not, trudging on through projects that are difficult to accomplish with small children lending (dragooning?) helping hands. i do believe many people sleep more than they need to sleep, letting something opaque and murky wash over them as they lie still under the sheets, mouths hung open, a navigable cave of gums, the teeth stalactites, stalagmites; cavities, dried out tongues relaxing until breakfast, eight or more hours of dark dreams to think about, to forget completely until the buzz of a new morning yanks them out and up, up and out, once again. and although i do not wish to sleep too much, i need more of the wretched thing or the days go badly. "a little folding of the hands to sleep," ruinous poverty or not, i must have, kicking and screaming all the way, if need be.

berio, the black and shiny, is scheduled to be clipped and snipped and neutered into tame-hood next week. with a $25 purple animal fixation voucher from the humane society and grandmama's cat carrier on loan we will take this recently-started-peeing-on-stuff cat to be emasculated. do they care at all, cats? would it matter if they did?



henry has discovered the insatiable deliciousness of being a yard sailor, purchasing this and that for spare change and a smile. we hit the shark-lover, crocodile-hunter jackpot last week, books galore we gathered together and marched down the street. hours of toothy enjoyment, a noisy godzilla, spikes and all, a croc that has already eaten toast and string cheese, melting ice-cubes at a slow and steady puddling speed on his ruby red tongue. hooray for the end of summer and other people's junk!