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Hey, until I get back to blogging (which feels like such a commitment! I don't know why) let's hang out on Twitter. It's like a quick cup of coffee as opposed to dinner and a movie.

Good morning, Grandma!

Good morning, Morning Glories
Originally uploaded by squeakyweasels.

When I checked on my garden this morning, I found these!

I thought this vine was a weed, and almost pulled it out a few weeks ago. But I liked the shape of the leaves, so I let it stay.

These morning glories are my Grandma's way of saying hi there, I'm sure of it.

New teen in the house

Sunday I was carded for buying beer, which means at least one person on this earth thought (or pretended to think) that I might be a teenager. And today I have a daughter who is a teenager. That's just weird.

Happy birthday, little baby girl! Your hair is still blonde and your eyes are still blue, but your nose has a handful of freckles that weren't there a few years ago. Your eyes are the same eyes, but now they sparkle with wit and personality.

Maybe I love the weird, but still.

The following are musical elements I always feel unnaturally attracted to:

1. Electric cellos
2. Disco percussion
3. Two-part harmony in a minor key

I’m just saying. It could be a recipe for genius.

TMI

Did you want to know something I bet you didn't want to know? Come on, I know that's why you're here.

For the last 3 or 4 weeks, things haven't been quite right in my intestular region. Let's just say that whatever I eat doesn't stick around for long. In fact, meals have been riding the express bus to Toiletville more often than not.

I know. But I warned you.

So I went to the doctor where they leeched some blood to confirm I wasn't dying, because that's what it starts to feel like after a while. I think my exact words on the phone with the nurse were, "I'm pretty sure I'm dying."

Then the nurse came in with a few vials of various shapes and sizes. "We're going to need you to bring Hank in to get checked out."

"Are you sure that's necessary?" I said. "Because Hank isn't one to make a lot of public appearances."

She assured me that it was necessary, and I left with my assortment of vials.

The next day, with Gert in tow because we were on our way to try on leotards for her new gymnastics class, I swung by the doctor's office to drop Hank off at the front desk.

(And yes, I brought Gert along because I thought maybe I could pretend the whole time that Hank belonged to her. We all know parents are far less shy around Hank when their children are involved.)

I approached the girl at the front desk holding my paper bag, and leaned in to inform her that Hank was here for his check-up.

Gert sort of overheard. "Mom!" she said, in a loud, outraged voice. "You stole a sample?"

"We'll talk about it later!" I hissed at her.

The girl at the front desk looked sort of alarmed, which sort of alarmed me. She said, "Oh, there's no one here to take that!"

"What do you mean?" I said.

"All the people from the lab are gone for the day. I'm sorry!"

I said, "No. Please. Can I pay someone to take this bag? I have $20 in cash..."

Gert said, "Is that the sample you stole?"

Lots of people were looking at us. I exhaled and collected what was left of my dignity, clutching Hank's bag and taking Gert by the hand.

And then we went to try on pink leotards with Hank stuffed in my purse.

Lonely, etc.

Gary's in Chicago for the day (a day that began at 4:30 a.m.) and I've no one to talk to. It's not so much that I have anything really interesting to say, but I like being able to pick up the phone and chat for five minutes for no reason.

Not having those five minutes during the day makes me really aware of everything my job isn't right now.

I'll tell you what it IS... 19 catalogs due to design by Friday. And that makes me want to cry. Or give up.

Uncle, already.

I miss my honey.

Also, I'm not ready for my 12-year-old to walk to the pool by herself to meet another 12-year-old friend there when I'm stuck at work and my honey is in Chicago. That makes me very unpopular with her at this present moment. But sorry. Not today. It's summer, read a book. That's what I wish I were doing.

Crashing! And is that smoke I smell?

On Monday, feeling feverish and snotty, I called in sick to work. I don't remember the last time a virus has actually knocked me on my ass (thank you, vitamin D) but there it was.

I returned to my office and realized that all this time I had been just one day removed from complete chaos. The delicate balance, the bargaining and trading of one deadline for another, it had all been upended by one day at home.

There is too much work to accomplish in the hours I have every day that are free of meetings. And every meeting generates more work. I'm in time debt, speeding toward bankruptcy, with no way out.

At that realization, I was overcome by a state of complete mental paralysis.

I closed my door and spent four minutes indulging in an episode of panic. I know it was four minutes because I looked at the clock. Because it felt like four hours.