Today tastes like heavily salted butter, lemons, and lipstick. I'm just glad it's the weekend.
Last night was Vincenza's birthday. She had decided she didn't want to get any older. I told her the options (you got your classic method where you cease to move through time--or space for that matter; and you got your modern method where you ignore the event completely--no cake, no party, no additional year.) She wasn't too happy about either.
Then Mischief and I put our heads together and decided to throw her a party at a hot-dog place. With helium balloons so we could all sing "The Lollipop Guild" at the end of the night, an Elmo tablecloth, and an ice cream cake.
We grabbed a table outside and proceeded to fingerpaint the town red. Vinnie decided she was four this year. Next year she wants to be seven. I suggested that she be 21 in 2007 so we could do a pub crawl or martini tasting.
Met with Terpsichore last week, and she's delighted with the new project. I really ought to sign off and write the pattern.
More later. I was going to do a riff on settling and priorities and the varied costs of both, but right now I don't have the stamina.