Contagious and outrageous.

Driving O to school earlier this week, I spotted a red-headed bird among the roots of a tree. O was chatting to me about Legos, and it took me a second for my brain to fully register the sight and then think, "I want to look at that!"  I stopped the car several houses down and backed up in time to still catch this guy, a red bellied woodpecker, poking around on the ground and then hopping his way up the side of the tree.

I was knocked out on Thursday with a stomach bug/food poisoning/something yucky. Friday, I felt totally human again. Now, on Saturday, I am coming down with a cold. Z is a day ahead of me in the cold, and she is miserable; more so with the knowledge that there is a sleepover party she may or may not make it to tonight.

During the same time, I got to go to Z's school choir concert, for which she wore a sheriff's costume she has had since she was 4 for the Village People number, and I got to go see an amazing and delightful play. There is a Happiness that Morning Is by Chicago playwright Mickle Maher, in production through tonight (! get your tickets now!) at CPT, is simply a joy. My friend Brian Pedaci does some of the best acting I have ever seen him do, and he is matched by his fellows, Deirdrui Ring and Matthew Wright.

The play is a comedy in verse about two Blake scholars forced to apologize for having sex on the lawn ... but that doesn't even really describe how outrageously smart, beautiful, and hilarious it is. At one point I was actually crying I was laughing so hard. Maher has a terrific ability to turn the action just exactly when it needs to be turned - or maybe that is the director, Beth Wood. Really, if you have nothing to do tonight and you are anywhere near Cleveland, go see it. I am so rarely simply delighted by a play. This makes worthwhile all those times I have sat in a theater as the lights dim dreading the possibility of being trapped in the dark by a mediocre show. Because sometimes, this happens. (The set by Todd Krispinsky is a treat in its own right, too.)

O has his first baseball game of the season today. I will drag myself to that too, despite my pathetic state. Perhaps the sunshine will do me good. Burn off the contagion and all that.


Reading: I was going to transcribe a quote, but I have run out of time.

Writing: Yes. Hoping Planning to finish the North Beach scene this weekend and then do some macro-level work. Reward will be a few hours to think more seriously about food writing.

Dinner: On Friday, whilst temporarily human, I made a veggie-might sauce with the addition of some crushed up leftover meatballs, and served it over whole wheat spaghetti with Romano cheese.

 Soundtrack: Today is Paul Weller's 55th birthday. Here is one of my favorite of his 21st century songs:



Also, I was really enjoying this week's installment of Spy vs. Spy on WRUW.

Random thing: We have a mama robin raising chicks in the arbor vitae by the driveway. I can't see the nest, but I can hear the chicks cheeping from my kitchen window, and I see her dashing back and forth with her beak full of wriggling things. If I stop and watch her for too long she squawks sternly at me. It is on my to do list this weekend to go see if I can find any blue shell fragments. That will probably make her angry too.

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