I have just recovered from the stomach flu. For some, that isn't a big deal. But for me, somehow, it was. As I watched my children getting out of control as I stood, bent over a torn Whole Foods bag losing yesterday's lunch, I thought, Oh God, I'm too Old and Decrepit already to be starting this breeding thing.  Doesn't anyone care that mommy is sick? Huh? Hello? Tossing cookies here...oh well. Too young I guess. It will be a new milestone for me to mark in their respective baby/toddler books...the time when they will Care when mommy is down and try to do something. Hopefully it won't have to be at high school graduation (or college? Beyond?). Anyway, enough about me.

Now I'm better. Phew. But it reminded me, again, how fragile life is - not just the precious little ones who toddle too close to the steps or street or neighborhood schizophrenic man (sorry, John)...but Moms. And Dads. When that plane flew over so low I could touch it last Thursday apparently spraying for gypsy moths (WHAT?? by the way?? Could I just charter a plane and spray glitter if I wanted to?) it reminded me again that whoa, people are sensitive and we should take good care, all of us.  When that guy attempted suicide by driving over the bluff here in Shorewood on Tuesday, and it made the hair on the back of many necks stand up for a sec, that was a reminder too. And it was freaky as all heck.

I have been getting down on myself for not being a better domestic caretaker. Granted, Henry and I made an awesome from-scratch board game today while Helen slept in her hommus, but my house, and my person, are not svelte or pretty. I had another sighting of a high school alumnus - Louisa Kamps - who had the telltale "Gate-Check" tag on her stroller and was walking With Purpose (isn't there a nice little French phrase for that?) up Capitol towards what I assumed was/is her parents house. She had on the same earrings I remember her wearing in high school, same tall skinnnnny legs, thick brown ponytail, and gaze that was both here and a million places.  Her son looked about 3 and content yet in full discussion about things. I drove past, sliding down in my seat feeling like I was a changeling - a person having flashbacks and also who is very much in the present and is delayed in finishing her homework for the week. Yes, folks, I'm in grad school, and proud of it, some days, and taking three classes if I can get it together to even sign up (maybe that's a bad sign that I can't even get that accomplished) for all 3...but I'm no editor at Vogue or whatever. I am the one who gets accosted in my driveway about some group rummage sale in a week that is beyond my comprehension except that I could be ready for one at any moment.  That is a reality TV show I would WIN. 

There is a new presence for Shorewood High School Alumni Group on Facebook. Join in. It's hilarious and completely nonlinear and getting bigger by the day. 

The other news is I'm seriously contemplating a paper mache fruit and vegetable garden for this year, as I seem to have missed the deadline for raising my own crops from seed. As my husband pointed out, All things are raised from seed, just not by us, but still, it's the principal of the thing. So I may just make it a green/recycling project and papier-mache my way to full-blown, county-fair-winning sized melons and such Prematurely, just to reward onlookers with a farce. I would do this, but I'm hampered by the knowledge that the last time I made a bunch of animals to attach to my Madison cow (long story - you can google that if you are curious), the mice thought it was Old Country Buffet and wouldn't release them even when I picked 'em up and shook them. So now I hang my creations on the line (and, since laundry's at an impasse, I might as well), and let the squirrels and birds fight over my apparently tasty (and all-you-can-eat) concoctions!

See you round the village, in my nonseasonal but at least not fearing death nor or gypsy-moth-spraying orange!