Absolutely awesome!

Significant things are happening in the world, but I still need to sort them out in order to write about them, assuming I write about them at all. So you're getting the trivia of my life. Also, I can't sleep again.

My brother got my mom a Mother's Day gift! My brother got my mom a Mother's Day gift! You have no idea how wonderful this is to me. Why? Because he had forgotten for the past *three years*. I don't forget, and then I send cards and flowers, and then she b/c's about how my brother ignored her yet again after giving me the most perfunctory of "thank yous," as if my contribution is just an afterthought and the sun rises and sets on him. But not this year! I gave the Dorkfish reminders starting a month in advance and told him that if he didn't at least send a card, I would personally fly to Florida and kick his scrawny ass. It worked! I know it sounds horrible to feel like I got over a hurdle, but damn it, I *do*.

I forget sometimes how my L'Ailee can listen to a swirl of conversation around her, almost aerobically listen, though it looks like she's checked out. All most of us could talk about during the Martinsville race was crazy little Kyle Busch, and how talented he is, and how he seems to be enjoying his "black hat" status, or at least pretending like he does. All the while, she concentrated more on the big batch of strawberry daifuku cakes I'd made and studiously ignoring the French 75s--or so we made the mistake of thinking.

Then she just summed it right up. "My God," she blurted out, "What is the problem? He is only being competitive! Isn't that his job, to win races or try for wins, not to say, 'Oh, I hope I finish in the top ten today'? He is *good* at his job right now, so please deal with it!" Shut everyone up. I had to laugh, and then kiss her. She gets so disgusted when a driver doesn't even try to be competitive: "Oh, so he hopes to be in the top fifteen? People like that only waste space. Let a real driver have that car; there are far too many who want it." Some of my paternal relatives have told me Daddy would have disapproved of her, or at least of what she is to me. But I think Daddy would at least have loved that attitude. It's one that brings her home covered in bruises and contusions from her martial arts classes, but like Kyle, she doesn't know or want to know any other way.

Another cool thing about her is that she gave me a pair of Crocs high heels this week. Bet most of you didn't know there was such a thing, but I'm so happy there are. Mine are brown 'cause she thought that would best complement my white/green/turquoise wardrobe. She loves how high heels make my rear look, but I hate how they feel on my feet. It's because of this that I sometimes make an "I'll wear high heels" promise in exchange for some favor or other. She almost doesn't have to do any special favors to get me into my Crocs Cypruses, though. ALMOST!

Also last week, my 9-year-old TutorBoy was feeling frustrated and burnt out. He's doing well, but he's tired of the hard work he's been doing. His teacher tried to give him a "fun" assignment by telling the class to write a movie review, but even that upset him. "I never see movies!" he exclaimed. "All I do is homework!" That wasn't strictly true, of course, but the important thing was, he needed a break. I knew that feeling so well. So with his mother's permission, I took him to see Iron Man with the promise that he'd write his review as *soon* as he got home. He did me one better. He wrote most of it on my ever-present spiral notebook in the cab heading home, asking me only how to spell words!

Sometimes you get to see your own thumbprints on a beloved child's brain. "Iron Man is an absolutely awesome movie," he wrote. "Tony Stark was a very rich man. He was really smart. But he was very selfish...Tony Stark learned how to help people and be less selfish. The special effects were so awesome. They won't look as good on TV, so you should see Iron Man in the theater. Go see it this weekend." TutorBoy's mother laughed and laughed. "'Absolutely awesome.' Sweet Lord Jesus, I tell you he pays attention to you!" As TutorBoy launched a very sound sleep, she hugged me goodbye, still chuckling. I'm sure I blushed.

Links, links:

Representative Vito Fossella doesn't want LGBTs to destroy "the family." He'd prefer to do it himself.

The absolute worst example of hacking I have ever seen.

If you're in New York and want a tattoo, don't go to this guy!

Whatever you got for your mom, at least you didn't need this advice on how to buy her lingerie. I *hope*. Yeah, I know moms can be sexual and that's how they get to be moms and all. Still, some gifts are much more for the mother of your child than *your* mother!

And you know what's even scarier? The audible squeak of your new artificial hip.

Remember Zach Stark, the unfortunate 16-year-old gay boy who was forced into a strict ex-gay "therapy" program a few years back? He's 19 now and speaking for himself.

American history is older and stranger than you were most likely taught.

A vegetarian announces loudly, "We are not silently judging you as you eat meat!

Finally, Zippy the Pinhead said it all this weekend.