And we're off!

We're heading out bright and early for our 5-day vacation in Pennsylvania and Virginia. Y'all have a great rest of the week--you may expect my full report on Monday!

A birthday message

HAPPY 30th BIRTHDAY

to my psychic twin Jenny PP!

Gone to the birds

Our vacation started off with a bang! We were having brunch with newlyweds L&Y when we heard a cacophony of birds in the backyard. "What the hell--are those birds in our living room?" I asked, and Y. went over to check out problem. "Uh-oh," she said, "Come look."

A baby bird had fallen out of its nest and landed on the dirt, and it was only a matter of time before Clary B. discovered him. I whipped on some latex gloves and ran outside to scoop up the poor thing. Fortunately, I got to him just as Clara discovered him; aside from a few head butts, she didn't get a chance to hurt him.

Petunia, meanwhile, was calling Tufts, our nearest vet school. After asking some questions about the bird's general appearance (feathers, fuzz, etc.) the vet advised her to put the bird back up in the tree, saying that its parents would care for it until it learned to fly. The vet also said we could dangle worms above its beak if the bird seemed hungry.

We started making a makeshift next out of a plastic plant container; we put a big rock in the bottom to weight it down, the piled it high with maple tags and pine needles. We got out the big ladder and I made my way up two stories to the crotch of the pine tree, but not before trying to give the bird some worms. He didn't open his mouth for them, so I guessed he wasn't too hungry. We were a little nervous to leave him there--what if he fell out again?--but we had to run some errands. We said goodbye and hoped for the best. We decided to call him Lou 'cause he's a plucky little thing (tee hee).

When we got home, we didn't see Lou on the ground. I decided not to climb the ladder again since all looked well. But a few minutes later we got a call from Pregnant Neighbor: "Your bird's in our yard!" On went the gloves and away I went, only to discover that the bird in her yard was NOT our Lou, but some other baby bird entirely! This bird was a tiny bit older than Lou; it kept trying to fly and it flew onto my shirt twice. We decided to stick this new Big Lou up in the nest, figuring the babies could provide some comfort to each other. When I got up there, Original Lou was crying for food. Pet and I dug up some worms, and I fed them to Lou--he ate 1 big worm and 2 tiny worms from my hand!

We saw Big Lou on the ground last night, but he was gone when we looked for him again. His wings are more developed than Original Lou's, so we think he might have gotten the hang of flying just like the vet said. In a bit, I'm going to check on Original Lou. I'll bring him some worms in case he's hungry, but I've heard his parents outside all morning. Petunia said they dive-bombed Lucky, a neighbor cat, as well as a squirrel that tried to go near Original Lou. That's good, isn't it?

I think I might be revising my original position on birds. After holding the Lous and seeing them calm down from the heat of my hand, and especially after feeding Original Lou, I no longer think they're rats with wings.

WRONG

So, who heard Matt Lauer's interview with M.K. Letourneau and Vili Faulaa this morning? It made me FURIOUS. The interview was scripted as a Love Story Against All Odds; in the intro, Matt Lauer said, "Most skeptics thought it could never last," and the title of the piece was "Teacher-Student Marriage." Can you even believe that shit? Vili was a SIXTH GRADER the first time M.K. raped him, and now we're supposed to congratulate the happy couple on their first wedding anniversary? And celebrate their marriage because, Oh, hey, M.K. served her time and besides, as Vili said, "There's a lot of other male rapers that do six months and they're out."

Note to Vili: This isn't your fault. It's M.K.'s fault. But GODDAMN I hope you get some help.

And also? WHY ISN'T CHILD RAPE PUNISHABLE BY LIFE IN PRISON?

My head's going to explode.

Buffalo girl, won't you come out tonight

Many moons ago, I had a friend whose pediatrician told her that that there are two types of people: those descended from buffalo and those descended from fish. She believed him until she was in college and made some offhand comment about being descended from buffalo, at which point the backstory emerged and we all died laughing at her. Aren't friends great?

Except I shouldn't have laughed, because it's becoming increasingly clear that I am descended from buffalo.

You know that hump on the top of your back, the one the doctors call C7 because it's your 7th cervical vertebra? Maybe you don't know it if you're descended from fish, but if you're descended from buffalo you'll know exactly where I mean. Well, mine's overrun with stress. It aches all the time and threatens me with a premature dowager's hump, which isn't the most attractive of looks. I've started doing PT exercises to help it out, but it doesn't matter: that's where the stress goes.

Fellow buffaloes, I'm asking for your help: what's a tense buffalo girl like me to do?

Hook me up

Does anyone have a tried and true fried pickle recipe to share with me? I tried to make fried pickles this morning and they turned out like fried pickle bread. Not bad, mind you, but not what I was craving.

My nerves are really sticking out*

When I went downstairs a bit ago to call Clara into the house, I saw that our front gate was standing open. There's no telling how long it had been like that, and I didn't see Clara immediately, either. I started to panic, but I called to her from the porch. To my great relief, she ran out from the backyard and responded to my command to come in, but the possibilities swirled through my mind: What if she'd gotten out? And started to run? And I couldn't go after her because the kids are upstairs sleeping. And there's a v. busy road a block away. And she's wearing her no-bark collar, not her regular collar and tags, so even if someone caught her, they wouldn't know she's ours unless they know us. And what if she got hit by a car and I had to call a vet and I couldn't leave because I'd have to wait for the kids' parents to arrive and she bled to death and it was all my fault for letting someone open the gate and having a business that tethers me to the house and what if she died? WHAT IF SHE DIED? Even though I knew she was safe, I couldn't stop playing out alternate scenarios in my mind.

Clara's downstairs sleeping peacefully in her dog bed right now. She probably wondered about the extra treats and kisses, but she's no worse for wear. I'm still ragged around the edges, weak-kneed with relief and frantic about the could-have-beens. Now that I know she's safe, new questions are forming in my mind: Who opened the gate? Was it an accident? Was it malicious? Did one of my neighbors see what happened? Did Clara get out and come back in the time it took me to get the kids' diapers changed and put them down for their naps?

I need to take a few deep breaths.

All this comes after a night in which I dreamed I died. Yes, the night of my 29th birthday I dreamed I killed myself. And the kicker? It was a pleasant dream--ya know, a good ending to a good life and all that. It was only when I came to that I freaked out and woke up Petunia and was all, "I had a nightmare! But it was actually a good dream, but it was really a NIGHTMARE! I dreamed I killed myself. And it's my birthday! What if I die on my birthday?" And Petunia woke up enough to say, "It's not actually your birthday anymore. It's the next day. I promise, you won't die on your birthday. You told me your dream, so now I'll hold it for you and you can go back to sleep." And damn if I didn't go right back to sleep, but damn if I haven't been plagued by that dream all day.

I'm glad I'm going on vacation next week. I think I could use the break.

*With love to JPP.

Hey Shorty, It's My Birthday/And I'm Gonna Party Like It's My Birthday

You heard it here first, folks: Today's my birthday! It's the beginning of the final year of my 20s. The crowd goes wild!

This past weekend was filled with champagne punch, fancy spa pampering, psychic twin action, triple chocolate mousse cake from Flour, more gifts and well wishes than I could have imagined, and love. Lots and lots of love. It was wonderful to see and hear from so many friends, old and new.

Abundance abounds here at Chez AJWP. I'm v. grateful.

Tomorrow: Psychic twin spa day

My psychic twin (the inimitable JPP!) and I have birthdays a week apart, which means we live it up bigtime in late May. Let's hear it for the Geminis, eh? This year, Jenny is using a gift certificate to take us to a v. fancy spa in Boston tomorrow. Isn't she so generous? Don't you wish she could be your psychic twin, too?

When Jenny first told me she wanted to use her gift certificate for the two of us, I was SO EXCITED. I was on cloud 9, all ready to be pampered and fussed over. But after we set a date, I began to psych myself out. I always get nervy when I'm about to do something the rich folks do, like attend an elegant wedding or duck into an expensive store. I feel like a designer imposter beside so many Chanels, you know? I'm generally a pretty confident person, but one of my hot buttons is class. If I'm feeling insecure about class stuff, all my other insecurities come out to play and I get stuck in a quagmire of self-doubt. When Jenny told me yesterday that we'd have to wear spa robes, I almost barfed--I was like, "Great, they're going to see my huge pores AND my cheap Target underwear?" The last time someone handed me a "one size fits all" garment, I was a Little Debbie cake away from busting right out of it.

After calling the spa this morning to ensure that they have plus-size robes on hand (mercifully, they do, though I was fully prepared to bring the striped flannel robe I've been wearing since 1996), I'm feeling more confident about the whole experience. I'm a facial virgin, doncha know! I'm a little scared about the facial itself, since I've heard facials compared to everything from nirvana to day surgery. But since the website's all about pampering yourself and the woman on the phone this morning was v. pleasant, I'm betting it'll be a great time. After all, I'll be spending it with my psychic twin, and it doesn't get any better than that!

(But if you've ever had a facial, let me know how it went, 'kay?)

Fun with plumbing and carpentry

BEFORE: lead trap, radiator hose, water dripping from the kitchen ceiling.

AFTER: New plastic pipes, new drywall ceiling, money dripping from our wallets.

The final story is that the previous owner of this place did his own plumbing, which we learned before we bought the house. We also knew that he had Alzheimer's disease. However, we didn't know that he used truck radiator hose instead of plastic pipe in part of the bathroom plumbing. Since our house is so old and crazy, the plumber had to make the new trap open to the kitchen. This means the carpenter had to build a box to contain the new trap, plus fix the rest of the ceiling.

Can I just say I'm scared to receive their bills?

Can I also just say that I accidentally stumbled across some of the best contractors in greater Worcester? Okay, so I made a gazillion calls in order to find them, but these folks arrived when they said they'd arrive and didn't dilly-dally while they worked. Their fees are reasonable, too, and they weren't weirdos. Gotta love that.

Pops!

To celebrate our anniversary, Petunia and I went to see the Boston Pops' Fiedler tribute last night. It was wonderful! They played some v. fun Leroy Anderson arrangements I hadn't heard before, a march I played in college, and several short pieces that I didn't recognize from the program but knew as soon as they started to play. Keith Lockhart conducted, and all I can say about him is that he needs a good haircut. Dear Keith: No duck tail, okay?

Because our awesome floor tickets were free (I completed a survey for the BSO last year, and the tickets were my thanks), Pet and I decided to splurge once we got there. Champagne, you ask? No, Pops Punch. We went for a whole pitcher, so you know we were livin' it up.

My favorite part of any trip to Symphony Hall is WASP watching. Technically, I'm a WASP too, but a trashy one. The good folks who keep the BSO in business are hardcore WASPS--you've never seen so much cashmere in your life. The oldest folks there could barely stand, but their tweeds were impeccable. LOVE it!

Thanks to Petunia for a fun night. Spicy bamboo chicken rice plate--YUM!

Legal marriage

Happy 2nd legal marriage anniversary to my darling Petunia! Two years ago today we heard those magic words:

"By the power vested in me by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, I now pronounce you legally married."

Hurrah!

Cotton anniversary

Two years ago tonight, Petunia and I made our way to Cambridge City Hall to apply for our legal marriage license. My brother Orca flew in from Texas and he took these photos--check out the amazing crowd of supporters! Petunia and I had a real sense that night that we were making history, and at 3:55am on May 17 we signed our petition to marry.

Getting hosed

So our bathroom pipes clogged this morning and I called a plumber to snake them. All went well with the snaking until water started leaking through the kitchen ceiling.

The previous owner of our house did his own plumbing, and it turns out he used RADIATOR HOSE instead of plastic pipe in part of the bathroom. The snake pierced the hose; water went everywhere. Now the plumber says we need to get a carpenter to take down 1/4 of our kitchen ceiling so he can get to the pipes.

As you can see, Josephine's trying to save her mamas money, but I think we're going to need a real carpenter for this job. Until we find one, there'll be no showering, bathing, or handwashing upstairs.

I need a drink. And some money.

Wedding bells

Our friends L&Y got married this weekend! The brides were radiant, the ceremony was lovely, and the reception was hoppin'. You know it's a good party when the 82-year old guest never leaves the dance floor!

Congratulations, L&Y. I was honored to be part of your big day.

Nutrition: A+; Sanitation: A+

"Hey, how's Child Care Appreciation Day going?" you ask.
"Fine," I say, "I just had a last-minute site visit from my food program area coordinator."

GOOD TIMES, friends, GOOD TIMES.

I got the call yesterday afternoon that M. would be here today for lunch. I love M. for calling first; it's a nice little courtesy between professionals. She'd be well within her rights to just stop by, but I'm so glad she doesn't. I run a tight ship food-wise, but I think you and I can agree that it's nice to have a little advance notice before a relative stranger comes over to your house, looks through your fridge and cupboards, and checks out your sink area. Am I right?

My sainted wife helped me clean last night, and she cheerfully took on my most hated task: cleaning the 3 booster seats and washing the legs of the table and chairs. I went to the grocery store for fresh fruit and veggies for the fruit bowl (it's all about the presentation, folks), then cleaned every inch of the fridge and freezer. I also decided on a menu for today, scrapping the aforementioned no-mess menu in favor of a kid-pleasing, USDA-suggested menu. Brownnoser!

Thankfully, M. arrived right at noon as I was dishing out the grub. We had chicken-tortilla bake, peas, and "liquid milk," and M. was impressed by the food itself and by how well the kids ate. She also told me that my menus had been flagged by their nutritionist and given a special thumbs-up for variety, so I was all proud of myself about that. Shit--I might have Twix for breakfast and ice cream for lunch, but my kids eat hella good foods!

So now it's over and I've already filed my paperwork; my next visit will be in August or September. M. totally ruined my plans to appreciate myself today, but maybe I can figure out some way to cut down on the cleaning this afternoon.

Child Care Provider Appreciation Day

It's tomorrow, according to the good folks at the Child and Adult Care Food Program. They "encourage parents to show their child care providers how much they appreciate them," which is a little AWKWARD since guess who'd have to tell the parents about Child Care Provider Appreciation Day in the first place? You see my problem. It's a little like throwing your own surprise party, no?

Also, note the proximity to Mother's Day. Not a choice.

I'm thinkin' I'm going to celebrate by planning a whole day of non-messy meals for the kids. I'll appreciate my own damn self by cutting down clean-up time: tomorrow there'll no wiping guacamole out of ears or cleaning chili off windowpanes, by gum! We'll use the extra time to do something really fun like cheater fingerpainting with Crayola no-mess paint. Excellent.

Mother's Day Blues

Blah. I'm feeling sorry for myself about Mother's Day. If things had gone well when we applied to DSS last June, we'd be in the waiting pool right now or (!) we'd already be mamas. Some days it's easy to be patient for Hester Willa, but right now I'm feeling every minute of the wait. At least next Mother's Day, we'll be in the waiting pool for real. Or, hope against hope, we'll be mamas.

Our MAPP class starts two months from tomorrow.

3 questions

Question 1: Have you ever been visited by a city code enforcement officer? We had one out here on Friday going "door to door, floor to floor" to check for code violations on our street (good news: we passed). Is this a poor neighborhood thing or do they visit the rich folks too?

Question 2: Is there some organic way to keep Clary B. out of our vegetable garden? We've put up a little fence and strung bird netting across the garden, but sometimes she breaks through it. You know how citrus peel repels cats? Well, is there something similar that repels dogs?

Question 3: What funny, fluffy books on tape would you bring on a 10-hour road trip? We're looking for recommendations for our late May getaway.

Bling bling

Dude, have you tried to buy jeans lately? Not. A. Choice. (And also not a choice: calling them "blue jeans" like I almost just did. Honestly, you'd think it's my 79th birthday instead of my 29th.)

I'm such an old lady, but I'm starting to think it's too much to ask to find a pair of plain, moderately low waisted, cheap jeans that look good on me. I tried on a gazillion pairs of jeans this weekend and I finally found one decent pair, but they had GOLD SEQUINS on the right leg. The last time I wore sequins I was 11 years old and dancing in a jazz recital, but desperate times call for desperate measures, so I bought them. I snipped off the sequins last night, but the faux embroidery beat me out. Still, they look only moderately strange now, as opposed to Solid Gold Bedazzled.

Dear Jean Makers,

For those of us trying not to be mutton dressed as lamb, it would be helpful if you offered a selection of plus size and regular size jeans without the following:

--whiskering
--strange faux bleach patches
--bleachy splash marks
--peglegs
--faux rips
--extremely low waists
--high waists
--patch pockets

Thank you for your attention this very important matter.

love,
AJWP

Doggy paddle redux

We had so much fun taking Clara to the lake on Saturday that we did it again yesterday, this time down in Sturbridge. She really went for it, swimming out to get her ball and then swimming back to shore. She was tuckered out when we left the park; if you know Clary B. in real life, you know that's a major accomplishment! Doesn't she look proud of herself?

Doggy paddle

Clara went swimming for the first time today at Hopkinton State Park! As you can see, our Weekend o' Fun got off to a great start.

Playtime

Since last weekend was All Work, this one is All Play. Hell yeah! We're kicking it off with a movie tonight--any suggestions? The rest of the weekend's agenda includes a visit to Ikea and the Wrentham outlets, possible trips to a local apple blossom festival and the Animal Rescue League's fundraiser, brunch with friends, and a picnic at the DeCordova on Sunday. This weekend is jam-packed with fun. We're overdue for some serious lolling around.

Playground gossip

I kind of hate encountering stay-at-home moms at our local playground. Fortunately, it's a rare event, but it's on my mind since it happened again this morning.

First off, they assume I'm a SAHM too, which makes me v. sad. In my dreams, mamas! If only. During this stage, they engage in that competitive "How old is he/oh he's so tiny/mine was walking-talking-finishing his dissertation at his age" bullshit that makes me want to run away while dragging my train of toddlers behind me. I know these mamas are trying to connect with me and ease their fears about their own kids' development, but it sucks. Once I tell them I run a family child care program, one of several things happens:

a) They flat-out ignore me for the rest of our time at the playground, like I'm not worth the investment of their time. This is the rudest option, but I prefer it to the options that follow.
b) They make judgments about the kids' parents, which pisses me off. That's when I ignore them.
c) They ask personal questions that are none of their business. "How much money do you make?" is a favorite.
d) They say fucked-up things about how I'm the kids' real parent since I spend so much time with them, so I have to tell them off (politely, though--there are children present!).
e) They start to list all of their kids' accomplishments and early milestones. This one used to puzzle me, but I think it's a defensive response to my master's degree in child development, like I'm some sort of crazy kid expert. Again: I wish!

In the 16 months that I've been running my program, I haven't had a single normal conversation with a SAHM at the playground (come to think of it, in the 10+ years I've been doing child care, I've only had 2 regular conversations with SAHMs at the playground). I wish there were a primer or an etiquette guide on this topic. Hey, maybe I can write one and get rich and famous! Nah, I'm too bitter.

You light up my life

Petunia and I are first-time homeowners, so we're on the steep end of the learning curve when it comes to home repair. For example, the first time I had to light the pilot light on our hot water heater, I made my dad stay on the phone with me so he could send 911 in case I blew myself up. We have a To Do list a mile long and it keeps gets reprioritized depending on the most pressing need. Right now, #1 on the list is figuring out a kitchen light. Ours broke earlier this week, and we need a replacement right away.

After doing some online research, it turns out that our light is probably the original fixture, a handblown schoolhouse shade and fixture made in the early 1900s. It looks exactly like this picture of a light from Restoration Hardware, only dirtier. I've always been v. attached to this fixture, but I thought the metal beehive one from Ikea would be a nice (and cheap) replacement. However, the beehive doesn't go with 7-foot ceilings. Plus, after doing all that research I'm even more attached to the schoolhouse light concept.

So I investigated our alternatives, and here they are:

1) We could buy this new one from Restoration Hardware for $99 + shipping.
2) We could buy the fixture (the metal part) without the shade for $70 from an online vintage light shop.
3) We could get our own fixture repaired by a local antique light shop for $30.

Obviously, this last option appeals to me for my cheapness and my sentimentality, but if it doesn't work we'll be out the $30. Also, it'll take a week, which stinks since exposed wires don't exactly scream "high quality child care program."

After talking with Petunia about our options, we're going to try to get our original fixture repaired. In the meantime, we'll buy some cheap-ass light at Lowe's to prevent the exposed wires scenario. However, if y'all have better ideas, I'm all ears. I barely know what I'm doing, and some of y'all have been homeowners for years.

Lullaby rant

I'm so pissy and tired right now. Insomniacs, how do you do it? I woke up at 9:45pm to take care of Clara and I haven't been able to go back to sleep. My mind is whirring and my stomach's killing me. The worst part is the anticipation of tomorrow: I'll need my full reserve of energy to care for the kids. Maybe a list would help ease my mind. It's worth a try--I'm not an INFJ for nothing.

Things That Are Keeping Me Up:

1. Petunia's going to be mad at herself for choosing a light fixture that's too tall for our 7-ft. ceilings. It's so cute, too, which kills me. It would be perfect for our kitchen if we had higher ceilings.

2. There's a rally against John Fresolo at the Stop & Shop this Saturday. Part of me wants to go, but I'm really not trying to get myself arrested. Plus, it's Northampton Pride. We talked about not going, but I'd like to reserve the option just in case.

3. It's confirmed: Melissa Murgo is running against Fresolo this fall. Thanks goodness.

4. Orca is in Florida with his GF; soon, they'll be in the Bahamas. I'm so jealous I could spit.

5. After Sster's news at Boomerific, I'm thinking about our Hester Willa. You know, all the big questions (who, what, when, where, why, how).

6. After Junior spiked that fever today, I'm worried about what'll happen when Hester spikes a fever while I'm working. Petunia and I have talked about this, but it still scares me. What will I do? Will I have to send the other kids home? Will I be able to separate Hester from the other kids? I know I'm borrowing trouble, but I'm still worried.

7. Clara's barking scared the shit out of me. It woke me from a dead sleep; in fact, I thought she'd been beside me until I heard her downstairs and realized that Petunia was lying next to me reading her book. Clara barked her crazy loud protective bark, which she does v. infrequently. When she sounds like that, I pay attention.

8. I hope this prospective family works out. The child is a sweetheart and his mom seems v. nice. It would mean a little extra income over the summer, too, which isn't a bad thing.

9. What am I going to do for my birthday? Jenny and I are having our private Psychic Twin celebration, but folks keep asking me if I'm having a party. Should I have a party? If so, where should it be? Having it here would be fun but lots of work, but I haven't thought of another venue.

********************

You know, I do feel better. Maybe I can even go to sleep.

News flash

Y'all have GOT to check out Sster's post today at Boomerific!

Red hot

So, remember my "slightly feverish" toddler? Well, his temp went from 99 to 104 degrees in an hour. SO SCARY. Fortunately, I got it down to 103 with some baby Motrin, a cold compress, and lots of water, but I was sweating it until his mom came to pick him up. It makes me nervous when the kids get sick on my watch.

I wonder how it'll be when it's Hester with the high fever.

The morning's numbers

--Teething children: 2
--Slightly feverish child: 1
--Broken light fixture in kitchen: 1
--Visits by prospective family (mom + 22-month old): 1
--Hours they stayed: 1.5
--Times I told baby to "keep his feet on the floor": 140 (seemed like)
--Times I told baby to "sit on his bum": 1400 (seemed like)
--Times baby tripped over new train track, causing copious crocodile tears from oldest child: 6
--Raindrops outside: scads
--Ibuprofens popped by AJWP as soon as new family left: 3

It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood

Wow! I'm so surprised: I saw a comment today on Cheese and Whine, clicked over to the commenter's blog, and immediately recognized the writer as my former housemate M. (cue "It's a Small World" music). How crazy is that? The blogosphere feels like a regular neighborhood these days.

I'm glad.

Yay for May

If it's really May Day, I want my little basket of candy and flowers. Do kids even do that anymore?

May is my busiest month. It's chock full of birthdays and anniversaries, and since I'm kind of a control freak, I like to have all the cards and/or gifts in order and ready to go ASAP. These are my big dates this May:

6: Northampton Pride
10: MA Constitutional Convention
11: M.H.'s 28th birthday
13: W.'s 30th birthday
13: L&Y's wedding
14: Mother's Day
17: 2nd anniversary of our legal marriage
18: T.'s 32nd birthday
21: B&S's first wedding anniversary
22: Reuben's 9th birthday
22: my 29th birthday
23: L.'s 40th birthday
26: C.'s birthday
26: K.'s 30th birthday
28: C&F's 1st wedding anniversary
28: S&S's 6th wedding anniversary
[28: Grandpa Herbie's birthday--call Mom]
29: Jenny's 30th birthday
29: Memorial Day
30: Y's birthday
29-4: Off work for vacation
June 1: S.'s birthday

Isn't that kind of crazy? June and October are filling up, too.

In other news, Petunia and I played Responsible Homeowners over the weekend. An arborist colleague of Green Thumb's came out and trimmed up our ginormous trees, then Green Thumb and I collected the brush while Petunia worked magic with a handsaw. After 5 trips to the city dump and careful stacking of the remaining limbs, the place looks pretty spiffy! I also spent most of yesterday planting bulbs and seedlings, staking berry vines, Clara-proofing the back 40, and transferring rocks from other parts of the yard to the driveway. Today I'm hella tired; I wish I could have a couple days off after working so hard over the weekend.

But there's much to anticipate during this month, including Petunia's and my first ever week-long vacation. We're planning to go up to Vermont on Saturday and Sunday to poke around, take some tours, and visit Bennington Pottery before heading off to the Poconos and Blacksburg, VA (my friend K. is getting married on the 3rd!). Also, May is Jenny's and my Psychic Twin Birthday Celebration, which we've celebrated regularly since 1995. This year, the Celebration will consist of a fancy spa day and brunch at a cute place in the South End. Good times--I can't wait!