When told the microwave has self-immolated, or would have, but you opened the door before it burst into flames--

--he tests your hypothesis.

With the end result being, d'oh, smoke and flames.

Silence, broken by screaming.

Mine.

In the match, Baxter vs. The Couch, The Couch not only lost its guts in the battle, but its small tear on the semi-attached back cushion has been ravaged. Polyester stuffing litters the floor, along with the basket of fake blooms that he abandoned in order to attack an innocent sofa that was Not Bothering Him At All.

I shall be face down on my pillow for the foreseeable future. Send chocolate.

Part the first: thumpitythumpitythumpitysqueaksqueaksquee--

thumpitythumpitythumpity

*doorflap slaps twice*

Littlest dog steals squeaky toy back.

*doorflap slaps twice*

thumpitythumpitythumpitysqueaksqueaksquee--

thumpitythumpitythumpity....

The Eldest Idiot Child left his google email open on my computer, so I thoughtfully signed him out. But not before my eye managed to land on this email header:

"Hi, NAME OF INSANE CHILD WITH A DEATH WISH REDACTED, I don't believe it's possible to wingsuit off of...."

I can't decide if I should be grateful it's not possible or horrified that he's considering wingsuiting.

Wingsuiting? Check it out. There's a piece of me that goes ooh, wow, how cool to use in a novel. But about 2:25, I begin screaming and have to stop the video. (Well, it's about then that I can actually see my kid doing this. These guys must be motherless orphans.)

wingsuit base jumping from Ali on Vimeo.

How I--with my fear of heights--produced this child is beyond me.

Brain walks by: Lalalalalalal...

Dark corner: Psst! Hey, you there. Benin's a spy.

Brain: Ben... wait. You know Benin?

Dark corner: He's working for the storm mage bad guys.

Brain: He is?!

Dark corner: *smug*

Brain: What else do you know?

Dark corner: Lalalalalalalala *pip*

Brain: O.o

...non-existent. The damn things skip addition and proceed straight to multiplication.

It rained a week ago--bunches, so all our blackened landscape is now tinged with green. If that isn't a right-in-your-face, no-symbolic-about-it rebirth, I don't know what is. The most amazing part of it is the fact that it happens practically overnight. I'm particularly grateful because we'll have fewer (or not quite as severe) mud slides if there's a mat of dead grass holding the hills together once the rains really hit.

But for now? Spring green, a refreshing change from the gold of summer.

Wish I could say the novel was experiencing a rebirth, but I can't. I'm avoiding staring into it for too long, because I can see all the plot tendrils tentacles snaking out and going nowhere, because hey! New, shiny plot tentacle! Let's chase that one!

The novel ADD is well and thriving, when it's not masquerading as Cthulu.