Where does he get it?

My five-year-old son's artwork:

(I'm the furry one with the side-ass. His twin sister is the victim.)

I found this on the coffee table one morning, before my first cup of coffee.

(that's his name I blocked out up there.)

He should probably just be my illustrator.

Things that are not sneakers

This morning, I asked my five-year-old daughter to put on sneakers. She was home sick, and I had a lot of driving to do early for work. I told her to keep her snuggly, warm pajamas on, but to add underwear, socks and sneakers.

For future reference, a list of things that are not sneakers:

• Sparkly blue Mary Janes
• Pink snow boots
• Two pink child-size purses - one sparkly, one not
• A backpack containing ginger ale and goldfish.
• Two teddy bears, a "lovey" (a stuffed bunny head attached to a mini blanket), and a miniature lavender hippopotamus Pillow Pet
• One paperback copy of Matilda by Roald Dahl
• A journal with Curious George on the cover

For future reference, a list of things I did not say:

"PUT YOUR GODDAMN SNEAKERS ON YOUR MOTHERFUCKING FEET."
"Have you been taking any hallucinogenic drugs?"
"Seriously?"
"I swear to all that you hold dear that if you do not find SNEAKERS, put them on your feet, and get in the fucking car, I will throw away every other pair of shoes you own."

I consider this a victory, because last week, I did actually throw my five-year-old son's shoe in the trash can before school. He had to fish it out of there before getting on the bus, and I cried all the way to work.

I graduated and stuff

Hi Internet!

I missed you more than you missed me. What? What's that? You don't remember me? Yeah, I wouldn't remember me either.

I'm a little gloomy and grumpy and spending the evening in my sweatpants on my couch, watching election results roll in and drinking wine until I fall asleep. How YOU doin'?

And we're getting a Nor'Easter tomorrow. Thbpbp. Just hand me a bucket of ice cream and pants with better elastic. I quit.

Anyway, I graduated from my master's program. I'm now a master. Master writer. Perverts.

A tiny little excerpt of an excerpt from my manuscript was published on this really lovely online literary magazine for nonfiction, BraidedBrook.com. Really, most of the stuff they publish is gorgeous and poignant and lyrical. And mine was, well, mine.

If you care to read, I would love your good and bad feedback.