I was reading the local indy weekly last night over dinner (excuse me, do you ever make dinner and think "I am a fucking rock star, the way I do this night after night, cpme home from work and make something local and always homemade and always yummy and sometimes simple and tonight it was a braised/cabbage/apple dish with mashed potatoes and spicy greens and grilled sausages for the meateater in the house and man, I am AWESOME at this" because I routinely think that and wonder if I am just a little high on myself but I don't really care) and saw the film society at D*ke was playing "The Beaches of Agnes" by Agnes Varda and even though I had a meeting and so much homework, I put the kid to bed and bundled up - it was 35 degrees last night and is supposed to be 80 tomorrow, what? - and took a mug of milky chai tea and maple cookies and watched a movie on my own. I used to do this all the time of course, mostly in Vancouver, at the Cinematheque and matinees and late night movies where I would walk home alone and think about it hard. It was a lovely little meditation on life and art and cinema and love and feminism. I'm glad I ditched my meeting.

I am also helping to plan my Moms surprise 60th birthday in 3 weeks. Is there a dignified yet really fun theme for a 60 year old? I suggested Day of the Dead but my sister will not go for it. So I suggested beer and board games and it may yet come to that. At least she will be surprised by us arriving, I hope. I was on the phone with her on Sunday and I had to physically hold a hand over my mouth to stop from telling her "HEYI'LLSEEYOUIN3WEEKS".

My child willingly climbs into her crib every night and says "Night night, love you" now and holy shit, that is some heart-explodingly sweet stuff right there.

Non-sequiturs abound