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Spent mucho time this weekend with my nutty family. My dad has lost over fifty pounds. He hasn't been this slim in twenty-plus years. My brain keeps going, "Hey! Cait! That guy looks like your dad!" Eventually, my facial-recognition wetware will recover, but right now it's weird. Dad is a musician, and a conductor, and his brain is cooking his March concert. I'm torturing him with bits of Irish music. He's also learning to play go. It's a music-theory thing-he loves strategy, although, like me, his attention span is limited. My little birdy mom is in baby heaven with little nephew Alex. She can calm him down magically fast. I don't know how she does it. My bro and his wife are kindly keeping the 'rents at their house all week, so we aren't all jammed into our apt. Gotta buy a house! Spending quality time with little Alex sleeping on my front, and niece-dog Sarah flopped across my feet, is most soothing. Now I must survive two more days with evil varmint children.I am growing ever more weary of parents who refuse to hold their little boogers accountable for their own actions.Of COURSE it's all MY fault when little Timmy grabs young Mary's breasts in the hall--must be improper supervision on my part.Doesn't anybody tell boys that nice guys don't go straight for the headlights,anymore? Grrrr. Down, Cait. On the Headbone: Water From the Well, the Chieftains.I miss Derek Bell, God rest his merry soul. Glad we went to see them while we had the chance! |
 
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Family geeking