Wacky Sunday

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Wacky Wednesday, by Dr. Seuss, is a favorite book of Young A’s. At least it was a few months ago, when he was a more emergent reader. Now he is shunning “easy” books and making conversational shifts with phrases like, “Speaking of which…” (We’re dumbfounded, but pleased.)

His favorite page in Wacky Wednesday contains the charmingly old-fashioned interjection, “By cracky!” I think that one is due for a comeback, don’t you?

The youngs went for a sleepover at J’s parents so despite my misstep last night (thinking sleep could happen with a narcotic missing from the mix), I actually got to catch up a bit once I corrected my error.

We didn’t have big plans for the morning. J reliably found the perfect place for us to have brunch and we got there before there was a wait. I was feeling calmish, even. Today is my first day of tapering down to two doses of steroid (from the all-time high of four). I’ll be at this level for a few days. I can already feel myself uncoiling a little, although my military precision in giving orders for this afternoon is very much in evidence. Efficiency above all! This has never, ever, been my motto. It is now, at least until the steroids run out. I knew exactly which birthday presents were required, which bookstore we’d buy them at so I’d earn my coupon (bingo! $10 off next time!), then we’d need to pick up some groceries for the week.

Grocery shopping without a list is  usually not recommended, but when go with your wife and she is on steroids, it’s great! She runs through the meal plan for the week and asks all the right questions, maybe repeating them three or four times! For the record, we arrived home with what we needed, save the fruit leathers, which I saw we most definitely did NOT need. (Now we’re stocked up til the end of the school year.)

Yesterday I appealed to the universe for an end to the weird coincidences that keep assembling around me. This morning alone, there were two major ones. One involved an email I sent this morning to someone from the very distant past, and then the person checking out our items at the coop being connected to that as well, someone I met in 2003. Also, while on line waiting to pay for our food, I read and teared up from an email from a colleague who’d just heard my news. Minutes later, we pass her on 7th Avenue. She does not live in Park Slope, so the chance of this run-in was kind of small. This is the sort of thing that’s happening every day. Makes it even harder to sleep.

Tonight I have my work from home job from 5-9, and I’m hoping for much less wacky. By cracky.

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