Last night AJ and my husband met me at a restaurant opposite the local train station for dinner. It�s one of those Italian restaurants with inoffensive food and tables covered in paper. When I walked in, they were already seated and AJ was emptying out a paper cup full of crayons and decorating every square inch of the table covering with pictures of states: Washington, Wyoming, Maryland, Florida, Utah (�There�s the Great Salt Lake!�), Hawaii. If I didn�t already feel brain dead after a day of teaching and commuting, the fact that while I was downing a nice glass of chianti (hold the fava beans, Clarice) with my lasagna, AJ was apparently getting a head start on his homework for fourth grade didn�t help.

Today was spent trying to regain my composure through garden therapy. AJ and I drove to my favorite nursery and, after examining all the fountains (the solar-powered ones were particularly exciting, as they turned off when you cast shadows on them), we came home with a wagonload of pachysandra, lavender, dianthus, cranesbill, assorted herbs, and some annuals for the porch planters. AJ picked out a yellow alchemilla and planted it himself, watering it in carefully as he�s seen me do a thousand times.

I�m taking care to enjoy these moments, as AJ is rapidly turning into such a boy. He starts peewee soccer this Saturday and he could not be more excited about it. I, on the other hand, have been worrying about whether or not he�ll be disappointed. We�ve tried to warn him that there probably won�t be a uniform � in his imaginary games he always has to imagine what number everyone is wearing. He is desperate for a real number on a real jersey. We�ve also tried to let him know to expect drills rather than games, as, quite frankly, I think getting a mess of four-year-old boys to play like a team would be akin to herding the proverbial cats. AJ is, however, expecting quite a cheering section: his uncle, grandmother and possibly some of his cousins will be trekking out here Saturday morning to watch. I�ll have to start practicing my sidelines behavior. Especially since my mother-in-law will be present.

And finally, in lieu of anything of substance to say, I offer a public service announcement. I have recently discovered that my answering machine, while the message part is on, broadcasts the sounds from the caller�s end into the room. Did anyone else out there know that this was an option? I was horrified to find this out, because I�m certain that I have on at least one occasion in the past said something I wouldn�t have wanted the person I was calling to hear while I was waiting for the machine to click on. It has, however, been somewhat educational. I have learned that telemarketers swear a lot when their calls aren�t answered. I have also learned that my husband�s ex-girlfriend mutters to herself. I feel certain that I will find a way to use this newfound data for evil if given sufficient time to think about it. At the moment, however, the best I can do is probably prevent the ex from gaining political office, which seems highly unlikely to happen in any case.

And now, as the Nyquil is kicking in, I bid you all good night.

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