a week of impossible tasks...

i finished my literature review on reading strategies for little tykes. it wasn't my best work, definitely, but it was all done in an evening. for some reason, the compression of the last minute served to solidify my work into something definitely "there": not unlike impacted feces.

i am tired, with some time on my hands. yes, i still have to work tomorrow. the kids (my preschool kids, not MY own kids) are going to the zoo tomorrow. i'm going to meet them there. afterwards, i've a couple of treatments in aina haina, where the brilliant green day gold dust geckos sparkle like corrupted emeralds. and then, empty time, which is not really empty, because it is already foresworn and spoken for: willow's b-day is this sunday, and there is still much much much to do.

tonight, if i can remain awake, i will work on willow's animation. i don't know why, of all things i need to do, i am obsessed with this, but i am. perhaps it's the show-off in me. a new realm to manifest dreams...

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my wife's corned beef and cabbage (irish fare) is awesome... i'm full right now, listening to willow trounce lynn at checkers, as aiden (naked) romps around wielding a plastic golf club. this is life in my household, and i, as usual, am distantly nonparticipatory. i sit in the middle of blissful domesticity, and i WRITE about it. i catalog it. i am empty, but somehow the words come, words that pretend solidity, pretend life.

i've got to give the kids a bath. push the routine that will roll into the next day and the next. i'm happy, i'm sad. life is...