We didn't go to church today — turns out Lex was up all over the night and I just stayed awake between 2:50 and 5 a.m. Then he woke up for good at 6:45, but Monstro took that shift (thanks, Honey). We have been having a big issue with our church's non-compliance with nursery care (there's no problem with the woman there, just that they need another grown-up: two per room wherever children are present). I think I may have solved the problem during my sinus-earache-abatement scalding-hot shower; please cross thy fingers, I don't want to change churches.

Monstro's been working on his comps so today my mission has been to remove our son from the house so big daddy can get some reading done. He's reading Gibson's Pattern Recognition right now, a book I really enjoyed.

Another thing we've been working on is regular gym attendance. We joined the Y last Saturday and did cardio four consecutive days this week. I'm up to 40 minutes on the elliptical machine. Don't get excited — the machine's set on “fatty” — but I've burned more than 1,200 calories total this week.

I'm working on a Web site for a repeat client right now and if he doesn't start getting back to my there's no way the site will be done and up by Friday. Especially because he wants me to xfer the domain, which in my experience can take anywhere between 2 days and (no lie) six months. So we'll see. I read the mission statement to my friend Katie and she said it gave her goosebumps and made her want to cry, but in a good way. That's pretty good for a first draft, which makes me happy 'cause I wrote it.

(aside: my Powerbook's monitor is so dirty the apostrophes look like more dirt smudges.)

Speaking of writing, Living in Northampton and Amherst 2008-2010 is really taking off — the boy is settled into nursery school three days/week and starting next week, Monstro will take him and drop him off for two of those days until the end of the semester. We get these little half-sheet progress reports about him (Lex, not Monstro) every time and get to coo over his frequency and timing of BMs and what his favorite activity was that day. He's really figuring out how to hold an adult's hand while walking around, which is great — I even took him to Big Lots! today without using a shopping cart.

“I'll set you down but you have to hold Mommy's hand, OK?” I asked him as we looked at the rack of The Wiggles DVDs.

“OK,” he said.

And then he did! OK, I was just there for one thing, but even so, it was a breakthrough. Good stuff.

Earlier this summer my mom was in the hospital for a day in CA and then the next day I saw a woman who I not only swore was my midwife (to the point that I called her “Joanna”), but when she said, “No, Motormouth, it's Barbara,” it took me the better part of a week to realize who Barbara was and how I knew her. I felt really bad about this, but the boy and I ran into her at the recycling center today (see above re: removing the boy) and I was able to heartily apologize and explain the situation. Turns out she never got my note about watering my garden, which was OK because I only planted half a plot of herbs, anyway, and I haven't been there since before we left for vacation in early August. She was kind and understanding about my mental vacuity, so it was a good follow-up.

And then three days ago I found out one of the most darling funny Christian women from my church at Chico, Shannon, is being treated for two spots of bone cancer. The same evening I read that e-mail, I saw a “While You Were Out” episode. Those have been on hiatus for-ever and so I switched over to the last 10 minutes. Mark Montano (who I met at BWI and was himself quite gracious) designed a bicycle garage for a man fighting cancer and at the end of the episode, presented him with a Livestrong Notebook, to help him track his medications, finances, and stay inspired with stories of survivors, too. I ordered one for my friend this weekend and she'll have it in hand by (at the latest) Wednesday. The funny-sad coincidence is, Shannon was the first person I ever saw wearing a Livestrong bracelet, and when I commented on it the first thing out of her mouth was, “Oh, here! I have two,” and she gave me the bracelet off her wrist. Her two boys, independent and unaware of the other's plan, each gave Shannon a bracelet on the same day.

The notebook was free but I threw in a $10 donation to cover the materials; plus, they're running a promotion where if you spend $10 on their site, they'll add 10 free yellow bracelets to your order. So on top of the notebook, her original gift to me will be rewarded par dix.

I'm hoping this cancer situation response will be met more favorably than my last one: No-returned-calls from one of my 2.5 remaining high-school friends for three months. Carlin, could you kick your brother in the *ss for me and tell him to freaking call me already, even if it's to chew me out??? Thanks.

OK, I have uploaded a recent pic of our little guy — look to your right. He's wearing an authentic Mexican wedding shirt (guayabera) that we bought in San Antonio. Pretty appropriate, considering the picture was taken at my father's wedding. One of the guests said our boy had “the best shirt in the place!” Love it.

Sorry for the lack of posts lately but I've been working. Updates on my book Living in Northampton and Amherst are going swimmingly — I even got to talk to the police chief in my town yesterday. And on the 11th I had a meeting with a repeat marketing client that ended with him writing me a check for many hundreds of dollars. Should help to keep the wolf from the door — at least until next week, when I head to the eye doctor. I'm thinking I should have just endorsed the check to the optical shop where I will need to purchase at least one, if not two, pairs of glasses.

So that's what's going on here. We're starting a new group on Fridays with the ladies and another couple Monstro knows from Warhammer 40k. Yes, we're getting geekier in our old age. I didn't think that was possible!

Huh. So Britney managed to show up to Vegas and open the VMAs. Too bad she forgot to wear clothes. She spent most of her performance looking like she was trying not to get sick. Hey, me too!

The great thing about the Internet is that people who you knew a lifetime ago can get in touch with you. Of course, this is also the major drawback of the Internet.

When I was single, I dated quite a bit. I met this one guy, David, at my buddy Brad's pool party. He became infatuated and sent me an acrostic poem. I don't remember what the acrostic was, though I do remember it was misspelled.

I sent him an acrostic poem of my own (the acrostic in mine was “TYPO?”). He invited me to lunch at Oracle, where he worked and also led the Oracle employee choir. After realizing he wasn't going to have the sopranos warm up, I never saw him again. You ALWAYS warm up the sopranos.

I blogged about it at the time (I think this was 2001). Hadn't heard from him in a dog's age until last week, when he invited me to join GoodReads.com, a book website.

“I'm writing Limericks now! (Clean ones only, I swear). Are you still the hot pool party chick you were when we met in 2001?” he asked in his invitation e-mail.

I wrote back: Yup, still hot — at least, my husband thinks so. Our baby thinks I'm pretty OK, too!

His reply? “Now that's one baby I'm jealous of! =-)”

Is he jealous of the baby's intimate knowledge of my netherregions, or the whole nursing thing? In any regard, I'm totally squicked out by the whole thing. And then he went on to say that he himself is MARRIED. What a slimebag.

I've never posted someone's e-mail address on my blog for for revengeful redress purposes, but I gotta admit, I'm sorely, sorely tempted.

(In the meanwhile, however, I'm enjoying goodreads.com and invite you to join — I'm listed there as Motormouth.)

What the h@ll happened to La Victoria Taqueria? We stopped there for some orange sauce on our way from the airport and it was closed! Is it gone for good???

Yeah, yeah, I know I should finish Count of Three before going on to another play, but I was inspired by the headlines while away on vacation. And, I want to submit something for this year's National 10-Minute Play Contest. Sooo, my new one-act is called Dogs. The characters are Phillips, Peace, and Vick — and three dogs, played by actors. I've got a page and a half so far, but the rest of it is mapped out in my head.

If celebrities would stop embodying cautionary tales, I'd be happy to stop writing them, honest!

I'll be posting about our vacation in dribs and drabs as I get the time. Here's how the trip to Chico went:

We left Mom's shortly after noon a week ago Saturday. Successfully navigated the super-tricky quicky-dicky back way through the rice fields and almond orchards, and made it to Lucille and Jeff's shortly after four (we stopped for lunch in Cordelia, where Monstro put premium gas in my dad's generously loaned, 3-month old Mercedes). They weren't home, so we keyed in the code and cautiously led Lex into their living room, where they display many of their collectibles. Our hosts arrived home from a wedding reception shortly thereafter and Jeff busied himself by cleaning their hall closet, because once he got through to the hamper of their sons' and grandchildren's toys he figured he might as well pull everything out. I don't know his final tally of decorative outdoor flags, though 23 umbrellas plus three more (“a bonus for your hard work!” I said) were unearthed.

“How can a woman have so many umbrellas?” Jeff asked.

“Well, sometimes I don't have one when it rains, and other times I've left it at my desk.”

“Or someplace else.”

“Or someplace else,” she agreed.

Lex ran around Lucille's Turtle Garden, fenced around in white mini-fence and marked with an eponymous sign. We hung out on the deck.” Jeff and Lucille have been married for 53 years, so when you take a soda from their outdoor fridge it might be in a '70s can. I opened a 7up that was half empty. It was great.

They invited our luckless buddy Lenny to dinner with us, and after greeting him heartily they were met by the waitress with hugs and happy chattering. Jeff and Lucille had been to the restaurant's other location, the same place that Monstro and I held our rehearsal dinner. The waitress, Alba, told us a story about when her sister asked Jeff and Lucille for man advice, and the next time they came in they asked Alba, “So, have you found a good guy yet?

“I smiled and shrugged,” Alba said, “but thought to myself, 'who are these people and why are they asking me this?'”

Incidentally, Alba and Lex began what I'm certain will be a long-term, everlasting love affair. By the end of the night, I was addressing her has my future daughter-in-law.

We put Lex to bed in our portaged Pack-n-Play, between the twin beds where Monstro and I would sleep much later that evening, and we three (with Lenny) took off in Lenny's Metro, me in the backseat. Parked in the lot of a bank, where we ourselves had never had the guts to park.

“Uh, is it ok to park here?” Monstro asked him.

“They're closed. Do they really need the parking? And are they really going to tow a car that looks like this?”

I unfolded myself from the backseat. “Don't lock it,” Lenny said.

Much of Chico is the same but the new shops and their goods look much more expensive. We made it downstairs to the bar that used to be Team Players but now is Dino's.

“What did that used to be?” Monstro motioned up to the left on ground level. Lenny told him it used to be a tattoo shop (the only place Monstro told me never to enter), “but then my boss bought the whole damn building and kicked out all the places that were disreputable.” Lenny then told us stories about “raw sewage up to your thighs” and a drunken repairman lost in the ductwork between the ground floor and the basement's ceiling. We ordered two pitchers of Sierra Nevada Anniversary (happy anniversary, Sierra Nevada brewery!) and played the world's longest game of darts.

I don't remember who won. I do remember this indiscriminately Asian-type guy sidling into what might as well have been our trio's special room, if not for the more-as-the-night-got-later women, marching toward the Ladies'.

“So,” he asked me. “What are you doing?”

I kept it so cool I don't think Monstro knew that I knew the guy was hitting on me. Honey, I knew. Of course I knew.

But I played it cool. “Playing the world's longest game of darts,” I told the guy.

“How's that working out for you?”

“Not so good,” I said.

(My prophecy came to pass not much later when I dropped a dart point-side-down into my big toe, getting a spot of blood on the cute green sandals I bought at 21st Century in Manhattan)

“You gotta admire his guts… we're practically in a private room, playing a game, two of us are wearing wedding bands, and he hits on you,” Monstro said later. “You knew he was hitting on you, right?”

“Uhm, yes,” I said.

In a move that bummed me out at the time but made me really super happy the next morning, my “let's go somewhere else now!” pleas fell on deaf men's ears. Lenny dropped us off around midnight. I took the bed on the right because it had a footboard that would need to be climbed over.

Six hours later: “Mama? Mama! Da Da!” The kid's awake, it's 6:30, so we piled in the SUV as quietly as possible.

“Jack's?” I asked.

“Jack's.”

The waitress there sat us on the left-hand side, away from the bikers and the homeless people but in front of two late-teenagers that somehow became eight. One of them threw up on the sidewalk on his way into the place.

“That's why I always carry a toothbrush with me,” he told his buddies, who nodded in agreement. “Good idea,” another said. Their welcome ritual was laden with expletives, prompting the girl in the short plaid skirt and bandaged wrist to apologize on their behalf. They cleaned it up a little, but whenever someone forgot I heard the girl, behind me now, saying “sorry” under her breath. Then they all started talking about acid. It got quieter after that.

My California omelette tasted amazing and we dug into our hashbrowns, yes, hashbrowns with great abandon.

There is more to this but it's too good to rush through, and Lex just awoke. I shall leave you with the taste of hashbrowns in your brain.

This past Saturday, I married my father. Oh, wait: I officiated the wedding of my father. It was a great excuse to wear my Master's robes again, even if they do make my butt look big.