Even though my lifetime achievement record of still not going to Burning Man remains unscathed, last week was definitely the best week of 2007 so far, and let's face it, some of 2007 has really sucked, so that probably makes a normal disappointment-, anxiety-, and death-free week take on an extra glow of glow-stick-y goodness. But even keeping everything in perspective, it was still a great week, for one because the mailman was very generous with his Internet-fueled attentions, and didst deliver unto me:
1. A bottle of the best prosecco I have ever had in my life from a lovely lady whose intention was to say Congratulations for making it through the last few months, and whose tremendous contribution of a delicious Nino Franco Rustico unexpectedly served to celebrate:
2. The intense joy and well-being I experienced after having sent a small boy off to first grade from 8:30 a.m. to 3:00 p.m. four days in a row. WOW, I have some personal, mental, and psychic space around me once again. Next summer I think I'm going to make a rule where Jackson will have to make his own breakfast and then drive himself to day camp. No, really. Although if he hadn't been in my armpit for ten weeks I wouldn't know how really, intensely, deeply pleasurable it is to get back into a grown-up groove. And it's not like I'd just been through two-and-a-half months of nothing but bread, water, and Lindsay Lohan movies, we had a great summer, there was nothing to complain about. We traveled well, we ate well, nobody lost an eye. I think the bulk of my vacation stress came from those last two weeks before Labor Day when I had nothing left to give, I just wanted to board the dog and lie in bed reading the Internet until it was time for someone to bring me a drink. I don't think Jackson really noticed that there were no more trips to the water park or visits to the butterfly exhibit at the museum, that instead we just watched a bunch of TV and played video games and maybe, if the radiation burns on our faces started oozing, we hauled our achy butts out to the neighborhood pool. I realized how disconnected I'd become when Jack came home from work and said, "It's four o'clock in the afternoon and why is Jackson still in his pajamas?!" In my defense, I had a couple of deadlines I had to meet, so while I became one with my laptop Jackson was left to sort out the end of vacation for himself. Which he did by turning into Little Lord Fauntleroy and playing Stuffed Animals with his friend, Jacob, a game that consists of collecting five dozen stuffed animals, taking them outside to the playground, and giggling for two hours, pretending what I'll never know, they always stiffen up and go quiet when I come around.
This list has lost its integrity, since the mailman didn't actually bring Jackson home from school every day, but he did leave a couple of other things at the door, including,
What I neglected to point out in the flickr caption to the above photo is that the piece of blue foam at the monsters' feet is one of Jackson's new favorite toys and he has named it "Linty." My hand to William Holden, Linty began his life as packing material surrounding Jack's new hand-tooled pool cue case, and now Jackson not only sleeps with Linty every night but he makes Linty talk to his other stuffed animals. He also likes to wrap Linty around his fist and punch the wall so he can hear his knuckles crack. I love that boy with all my heart but I have to wonder about how this Abuse of Anthropomorphized Packing Material phase is going to turn out. You know how I loves me some packing materials. Hey, one of my genes dominates! Nature craps on nurture once again.
I should also mention that Jack is in love with Sock Zombie, and has claimed it as his own. He fell asleep snuggling it last night. Imagine if you will.