no, i will not make out with you.

there's really no follow up to giving birth to two elementary schoolers from the south pacific. what's important is how much MY life is about to change (this is mamie by the way). i'm going to be that aunt you always called "aunt" even though she was of no relation to you. i will take you both out for french presses and manhattans on the rocks--no cherries--on sundays, even though you're 5 and 6. i will set you up with my niece, morgan, and then tell you over and over again how no one--not even you--will ever be good enough for her. i will buy you bangles and send you beads from mardi gras. i will take you to shows and introduce you to all the older, divorced men i used to date, all the while referring to them as "old friends." i will teach you to call hannah "mom" behind her back just to freak her out. we will only do grown-up things together. when you want to go to, say, the aquarium or dog park, i will explain all of the dangerous/terrible things that go on there. i will give you "absalom, absalom!" and "invisible man" for your 7th and 8th birthdays, respectively.

now, there's only time to bullet:

*what the hell is up with cyclists? no offense, eric. i think it must be a lovely, calming sport that requires a great deal of endurance. that being said, greenville is becoming a cyclist's town. people have bike license plates. this weekend was the road race championships. i had thought all the foreigners in tight spandex clothing would not affect my life whatsoever. except that i waited on 14 of them last night. most of them were beautiful and kind. although men that fit kind of disturb me. i can't be attracted to something that inhuman; there must be something aesthetically off about you in order for me to want you. so, they're nice. they're drinking gallons of water. a german man stares at me for the duration of the meal. i f-ck up wine presentation because his eyes are peering into my soul. so he says, "you. you going to watch ze race weez your huzbeend?" me: "uh, no. i mean, i'm not married." him: "so you take me out? tonight? i come back here at 11." me: "um, no. i mean, you're drinking amaretto on the rocks. what can i possibly do with that?" the humor is lost in translation; i have actually hurt his feelings. anyway, skip to this morning. i step out for coffee and, i swear to god, the road is blocked off and people are tailgating with fold-out chairs, deviled eggs, the whole thing. waving flags!!! i'm just gawking. hundreds of people in the streets. granted, i live on main street, but still. when did this happen? lance armstrong couldn't have done this alone, just as bobby flay and bourdain and giada and emeral didn't do the whole chef/cooking popularity alone.

*also, check out stephanie's id. id as in freud, not id as in license. i made the mistake once, kind of like in junior high when i went into a record store looking for the new "russian roo" album because my cool hippie boyfriend liked them. translation: rusted root. translation: "send me on my way" blaring in the opening soiree scene of "party of five." anyway, i saw stephanie's id on friday night and it was one of the best live shows i've ever seen. it's like if tori amos were good, if she had an energy that wasn't so soul-splitting. the percussion makes me never want to make fun of the triangle again. www.stephaniesid.com

*also, michelle williams and heath ledger!!!! i'm destroyed. first owen? now the next kurt & goldie? okay, granted, she never looks happy in pictures. and, granted, she used to date my friend charlie when she was on "one tree hill," and i here she's a bit, err, randy. but still!!! what about matilda!!! why is no one thinking about the children??? (except for, of course, hannah.)