Mama got her art on.

I think I've said this before, but John paints meat.

When Anne first told me she was dating a guy who painted meat, I thought that meant that he picked up a steak, slapped some paint on it and then maybe used it as a big meat stamp. But in truth, he is an insanely talented artist who impresses the hell out of me.

Anyway, it was very cool to be us Friday night, because John had an opening at the Carnegie Visual and Performing Arts Center. And yes. It was just as impressive as it sounds. I felt very grown up.

Bookworm

This is the book of the moment. The protagonist is a diaper wearing loudmouth who accuses everyone in his life of lifting his beloved binky. The fish, the dog, even his sainted mother is not above suspicion. In the end, the binky is located in his bed, just where he "likes it most." I suspect drugs are involved.

I told Kevin to take it to his next haircut and ask for this style to be recreated. I love the symmetry of the 4 hairs.

Sorting.

Sometimes I get really into taking pictures. So into it, that I forget that in order to share the photos, I need to actually load them, sort them, save them, and post them.

Yeechs. That's just sounds like a lot of work.

I'll get there. Hang tight.

On a completely unrelated note.

It just must be said that I have developed a crush on John Stewart. I am aware that it has nothing to do with anything, but I'm just sayin'. If he were like an inch taller, and played guitar...

Medical jargon and hoo-hah to follow:

Scarlett's pre-surgical consultation and bear jamboree was this morning. We met with Dr. Mehlman, who went over the surgery with us again, this time with no heads spinning or smelling salts needed. That first time I think Kevin and I were left like stunned victims of a drive by mugging; looking at each other and thinking "what in the hell just happened?" This time we were much more prepared, with questions and pie charts, and even a song and dance routine. We worked on it at the slumber party. We wore matching hats.

Right. The Doctor. We are looking at a 90 percent chance of a successful closed reduction. They will inject a dye into both hips to look for abnormalities, or any blockages of the socket. If those are clear, the way he thinks they will be, she will have one tiny incision, and then be casted. This part we already knew. She will also have an MRI after surgery, to check their work.

I feel good, not great, about the odds. Odds haven't worked in our favor lately. We are trying not to be pessimistic [or rather, I am trying, Kevin is succeeding, the bugger], but I am aware that she could have to have a more invasive procedure. So, let's all think happy happy thoughts that Scarlett's hip will pop right back into place.

Tomorrow: Sedated echo cardiogram to follow up on her heart murmur. Like my friend Wendy, I might write a poem about it. And it may contain vulgar language. If you are lucky.

Slurp...slurp...

Mom is healing nicely from her surgery. Thanks to all who have inquired after her! We are all hoping for a vast improvement, and it seems we are headed in that direction. We are also all just a little in love with her neurosurgeon, whose only flaw seems to be that he is from Cleveland. And seems proud of it.

However, every time I aimed a camera in her direction in the hospital, and later at home, she threatened my life. So...I thought I'd show her that not all pictures have to be good, to be good.

King of the hill...

In an effort to take better pictures, I'm now constantly on the lookout for natural light.

Unfortunately, someone needs to tell my daughter and dog that in order to get those pictures, they need to look at my camera. So my mother's big, beautiful windows, with all that amazing light, pretty much went to waste.

I did manage to capture this little power struggle. Your cushions? I think not.

I know it's blurry...

But could you just eat her?