You can’t cook the children!

Well, I tried to cook the children, but they’re still not well done.

I took them to the pool and let them swim until Squish’s little cheeks got really red, and her shoulder too.  And then we came home and I napped.

Which is sort of what I’ve been doing all week.  What, Amy, you napped?

Oh hell yes.  I can’t lay down on my own bed without pointing and curling my toes like a cat.  If I could, I’d bend my knee and lick the bottom of my feet, because I’m just so relaxed and happy to be home.

Anyway– so I’ve been cooking along on John’s book, and you know what?  When you take a guy who sells his best friend into a porn scene for the money he owes his dealer, and then get him out of rehab to an ex-lover’s suicide, do you know what happens?

A lot of fucking soul searching.  Jesus, I’m wishing for a bomb or something.  People will be begging me for a murder mystery after this.  This book is going to be a cure for insomnia, I am not shitting around.  Every cat in the world is going to sleep on the corpse of this book– it’s going to be their holy place– the place where all sleeps come from.  A hundred e-readers are going to disappear under the giant fatty-fuzzy tummies of a hundred house cats thinking, “I still can’t read, but I know what sends out sleep vibes, and honey, this thing’s got it going on.”  Where’s a good old fashioned explosion when you need one?


*pant pant pant*

Okay, that rant’s over.  (And don’t we all love Amy’s marketing technique?  That should be my next T-shirt: This book sucks.  By all means don’t buy it.  I’ll sell tens of books doing that, right?)

Okay.  Rant really over, I think.

Oh!

I do have a funny story to tell.

See, we went to the children’s Open House the other night.  Now, see, when Mom was in New Orleans, she got to hear Squish wax rhapsodic about meal worms.  I said, “Oh, was the meal worm gross?”

“No mom!  Meal worms aren’t gross– they’re our friends!  But I killed mine and the teacher had to pick it up with a spoon.”

“Awesome, hon.  I’ll look forward to seeing that.”

Well, I did get to see the meal worms, and the milk weed bugs and the other accoutrements of second grad science, God love all second grade teachers everywhere.  Of course, because she’s Squish, she wanted to show me the meal worm up close and personal– she even dumped it out of it’s vial and onto the special piece of paper they use to poke the meal worms to make them more active.  (I shit you not.  It’s part of their day.)  Anyway, she did that, and then couldn’t get the meal worm back in it’s vial and then…

Oh God.  I had to pick it up.  I did.  Because she was afraid of squashing it and it almost fell on the ground and it would have broken her heart…

And you know what?

It was every bit as gross as I thought it would be.  Oh my God.  I don’t pet slugs either.  Can we think of anything less appetizing?

Anyway, as we were leaving that classroom of hopeful happy learners and squeamish parents, her teacher stopped and told us something.  She said that Squish’s class has read 2 Million words this semester.  We were suitably impressed.  Then she said that Squish had read 300,000, and I was hella frickin’ jealous.  *I* don’t get that much time to read!  Oi!  That kid needs to do some chores for me so I can catch up with her reading word count, I am saying.  (Honestly, we were both just really proud.  That’s sort of insane– gees, she’s good!)

Zoomboy’s classroom was a surprise too.  For one thing, Zoomboy had actually done work.  Now, his state report got a 32/50, but you know what?  It was the most homework that kid had done in the 5th grade.  We were all about the celebration, I’m telling you.  It’s frustrating in a way.  He’s up on all of his concepts, gets the good grades on all of his tests, but that whole idea of having an aid come help him organize his shit seems to fall on deaf ears.  I know if I’d had someone do that for me every so often, I’d probably be much better off– next year, I shall insist, but for now, we have a scant nine days of school left, and I’m doing the happy dance too.  We shall swim as often as possible, and remember sunblock next time.

And besides that?

Okay, coconut water– does anybody know the point?  Now, Berry Jello (a friend I know both IRL and on the web) says that coconut oil supplements make us not crave carbs, which sounds like a really good idea, but is that the same idea for coconut water?  Because honestly?

Gag me.

Maybe it was the metal can, but the Thai place we ordered from tonight gave us a can gratis, and it was gnarly ick.  I am not seeing the point of that.

But ooh! Ooh oh oh!!!

I’d forgotten!

Author Kim Fielding and I are going to do an interview on the radio.  I blame Kim (who is adorable and talented and deserves to get credit!) because she was listening to an author get interviewed on Insight, a local radio program on KXJZ featuring Beth Ruyak (who has been an Olympic commentator and an Emmy award winning host) and said, “Hey!  Amy lives in Sacramento and I live in Turlock, and I bet we could be way more interesting than this guy!”

So she e-mailed them, and now here we go!

The interview will be on Monday, 9:00 a.m., June 9th, and that LINK I provided will get the program streaming, but I think it will also record the program if you want to hear it sometime not 9:00 a.m. in the morning, right?  Also, if you follow the link, it will give you the locations on the dial, so, you know, Radio Free America, it exists.

Now as I was freaking out quietly to Mate, (I sent her Racing for the Sun to read?  WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING!!!)  Mate said, “You know you can’t swear on the radio.”

So yeah.  Among other things, I’ve been practicing how to say “Holy Frickin’ Wow!” and make it sound authentic.  Wish me luck there too!

And that’s about it.  I have to admit, searching all these pictures of sleeping kittehs has sent me running for my default operation the last four years.

Ah, sleep. Seriously.  How could I have lived without you?