The heart of it all

Greetings, people. I'm coming to you live from the still-verdant hinterlands of southwestern Ohio. Carted the kids here via airplanes full of way too judgmental people who don't appreciate the nuances of a well-honed, double-ear-infection-induced screaming fit. Let me tell you it's bad, really bad, when jelly bean bribes prove fruitless.

But we're here! And it's like I'm on vacay in the Seychelles. Who tans these days, anyway? I went jogging this morning BY MYSELF. I was like Forest Gump out there, not having to stop to scoop up steaming piles of dog crap off the sidewalk. The Bugglekids played all morning with toys my mom's been saving since the seventies (now there's something to be said about the virtues of non-degradable plastic).

The most ambitious thing I did all day was take the kids on a field trip to the library because I have to read John McCain's book while I'm here (the things I do for my book club friends). Buggleboy had a massive tantrum because I picked him up when he wanted to climb the non-fiction stacks. This dramatically decreased my ability to recall exactly how the Dewey Decimal System works, so the reference librarian simply disappeared into the depths of library shelving and retrieved the memoir for me. I'm contemplating doing all kinds of shopping with a screaming child in tow. It's really amazing the way people scramble.