weapons of massdistraction

STOP RAINING ON MY PARADE! Seriously though, what gives world? I realize the potholes I’ve been hitting (figuratively and literally) are small things, in the grand scheme of things, but they are stress-inducing sleep-wrecking things just the same. So, in the latest edition of Fuck My Life…Tuesday. Every Tuesday my son hangs out at my ex’s after school for some guy time. Usually Pizza Luce plus video games. They both enjoy it. And the grown-ups take turns shuttling the boy home. Last week the ex drove him to my house so last night it was my turn to pick up. Retrieval went smoothly enough, but on the way to the freeway on-ramp I hit a pothole. And it took out BOTH tires on the passenger side. I managed to park safely on a side street that had already been plowed (a Minneapolis snow emergency is still in effect) and called the ex. He wound up having to drive my son home after all, but with me along for the ride. These situations highlight how very dependent we are on our car to get us where we need to go. With the location of our house in relation to school and my place of employment, there’s just no way public transportation would ever cut it. Thankfully I have a co-worker who lives near us. A very nice one who was willing and able to schlep us around town this morning. Which included dropping my keys off with a mechanic near our office and asking them to tow my car in and check it out. I only hope I can afford the necessary fixes. I anxiously await the damage report now.

To add to yesterday’s stress, because it wasn’t great enough, I discovered that someone created a new Sharynmorrow account on flickr that has no pix or profile info and they’d only faved photos of me and my Dad and my son. CREEPY! I promptly blocked them and reported them to flickr abuse. But the response from flickr advocacy was to have me fax a copy of my ID. Fine, fine. Just one more thing to add to the To Do pile.

Before I picked up the boy and broke my car I’d opted to catch a showing of Up in the Air, which suited my already frazzled but pre-broken car mood (post-broken car I upped the ante on my Wii Fit workout, watched some Chuck and later, Lost). When I tweeted about needing “a little George Clooney” a friend offered this up. Yuk yuk.

On the ride in with my co-worker today we talked about the progress of my werewolf cop novel. He, in turn, told me about a werewolf story he’d read and enjoyed growing up:

The Wolf’s Hour is a 1989 World War II adventure novel with a twist by Robert R. McCammon. A British secret agent goes behind German lines to stop a secret weapon from being launched against the Allies. The twist is that this agent is a werewolf. The book also includes some of the agent’s history, namely how he became a werewolf.

Oh hell yeah! This is what I need more of in my life right now. Too bad my library doesn’t seem to have it and it’s going for over $75 on Amazon. Turns out there are actually cheaper copies on ebay but I am already very broke and about to be even more so. Oh, and my library card expired on Monday anyhow. Yep, not my best week.

Bonus: On a day like today one needs Black and WTF, a photoblog chock full of strange old black & whites.
Plus: Various takes on Bat and Moth Aerobatics. Remarkably beautiful.
And: Ok, I’ll admit it, this headline sucked me in: “Olympic moms get all-around gold” but curling is cool and hey, they have titles like “Skip” and “Vice Skip.”