Glory Days

I'm not saying I used to be the cat's pajamas, but I once had a modicum of hipness. I would know all the new restaurants in Chicago and try most of them, see worthy independent and foreign films the weekend they came out, go to the theater regularly and know who the hottest new talents were (& flirt with some of them!), see the latest band, go to parties, dance at clubs, buy cute sweaters at Anthropologie, read books in hardcover, peruse the NYT and hit the major websites daily. I also used to deal with $50 million loans, make big complicated spreadsheets and talk to men in suits.Now I sing songs about poop. Let's hear another round of, "Wet and poopy, poopy not wet."

Not that I'm complaining. The song about the starfish on Yelena's bouncy seat that I composed this morning is a true masterpiece, I hear Fisher Price's marketing department dialing right now. This is all a ton more rewarding and a lot more fun than any job I've had and I'm damned happy I don't have to deal with those men in suits anymore. But yesterday Eli did point out that I should get out more often. "But I get out every day!" He explained that I should probably regularly talk to an adult other than him.

Let's face it, self, you're also getting a little obsessed with Buffy. The show, not the character, per se. I have dreams about the characters at night (especially Spike -- don't even go there, Freudians) and get itchy when Netflix mysteriously sends me a movie ranked #8 on my cue instead of the next Buffy disc.

I think this will get better starting Tuesday. Right now I am using sleeping Yelena moments to finish my friend's birthday book (I am writing this during ink drying pauses) and plan Erev Rosh Hashanah dinner (gazpacho with avocado ice cream, anyone?). Then I will read the Rushdie book. I had to hide this week's New Yorker so Eli wouldn't read the Murakami story before I get to it. I have to have something on He Who Lives in the Real World. And hopefully I will talk about something other than poop with friends during the hagim.