So yesterday was my stay-at-home-Mom day, since Cynthia was competing in a karate tournament and Fran went along for moral support, so the kids were with me.

"Why don't you take the kids along like last year?" O, how we laughed at my comic jests.

So, I was trying to sleep when Cynthia tiptoed in to let me know that they were leaving, immediately followed by Molly demanding to know when I was getting up. "Not now." I answered, and she left.

Soon, though, I felt a cat clambering onto the bed, but that was no cat, that was Bonnie! I sort of lay there, chatting with her as I slowly woke up.

She touched Monty's tail and I said "That's Monty's tail." She touched Milo's tail and I said "That's Milo's tail. Where's Bonnie's tail?" She didn't say anything, so I repeated "Where's Bonnie's tail?" and she looked over her shoulder out the door and said "It's coming."

Finally, though, I had to get up or breakfast would be over, so I got dressed and put Bonnie's shoes on (her feet, not mine) and put their coats on, put Bonnie in the stroller, and off to McDonald's we trudged.

Got the hash browns and sausage biscuits, walked back, Molly started to complain about being tired, but I wasn't about to carry a great big four-year-old for a five block walk, not when there was also a stroller to push, a stroller that's slightly too short for me, so it's pretty fatiguing to push, because I have to bend just a little bit to reach the handles. It gets old after a couple of blocks.

Anyway, we got home and that's when I discovered that the stupid shithead at the McDonald's, the one to whom I always have to emphasize "plain" to, otherwise he'll put cheese all over it, had interpreted "plain" to mean "no sausage, either, or it ain't plain enough", so back on with the shoes and the coats and the stroller and back we went.

When I got home I decided that if my only choice was to leave the house connected to two little kids, I was staying home, and that was after only an hour or so. I don't know how Cynthia manages day in and day out, though of course she manages with a car, but still, it's no skip through the meadow.

After our breakfast, Jon (Cynthia's ex) came to pick up Molly, which was pretty cool.

Sometimes I really wonder how many other ex-husbands are like Jon--completely part of his ex-wife's new family, always attending family events, babysitting the children that aren't related to him, digging the garden and mowing the lawn. It's as though he and Cynthia are cousins or something, blood family rather than former marrieds.

Anyway, it was just me and Bonnie, and we spent the day playing Elmo video after Elmo video, playing in the backyard (the cats were, to put it mildly, thrilled at being outside for the first time since October), she took a nap and I sent out all of my collected works for the end of February and all of March, Katie ran in and ran out a couple of times, and, when necessary, we visited the cats.

Bonnie has finally worked out the difference between Baldrick and Elvis, mostly because Elvis is slightly calmer about not disappearing into the ether the second she toddles into the room. Pronunciation is still problematic, though. Baldrick is usually Haldrick, which is pretty good, but Elvis really wasn't happening until yesterday when she finally came out with "Houses!"

Close enough, by me.

Anyway, Babysitter Mark Two showed up at 6p or so, so that I could go to the show, and Bonnie was heartbroken at the thought of my leaving. Which I would have taken slightly more seriously had she not done the same amount of screaming when Katie left after hanging out with her for about ten minutes during one of her mad dashes to and from the house.

Show went fine, blah blah blah, except that I heard somebody day that the word was that our show was the best of the Moliere one-acts, which I take great exception to, seeing as the show that I directed was about ten billion jillion times better than this, partially because it's just plain a better script!

Best Moliere indeed...

Then I got home and found that not only did Cynthia not win the tournament, but she got knocked out. And when I say knocked out, I mean unconscious, though her eyes never actually closed. She lost about three minutes, though, and then had to be the one to drive home!

I think that the slightly tense two hour drive from Connecticut was the catalyst to make Fran finally learn to drive. At the age of 39 1/2. I always thought that once you hit about 25, it's too late to learn to drive, especially if you didn't grow up in a car culture, but at least he's spent the past five or six years sitting in the passenger seat, when before that he'd barely ever seen the inside of a car that wasn't a taxi.

"Are you going to teach him?"
"O no, I don't think that would be a very good idea."

So he's off to driving school. North Jersey, watch out!

Today's horoscope:
You need a bit of space in your relationships. Share ideas, communicate, and be tolerant.

One year ago today:
He is destined to always be waiting for me.

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Last Updated Sun 2 April 18:33:09 2000