It seems as if my brain is taking a vacation, even though just about everything is pointing the other way: I've got a few jobs lined up, baby preparations are still underway (I've got several huge sewing projects underway), and Karel's birthday party is coming up, as well as the NT2. I have several drafts for blog posts started, but none are finished, and I'm getting the urge to write something twisted and weird again.
I'm choosing to take this mental lassitude as an indicator that summer really is here, despite the underwhelming evidence: it's been downright cold some days, rainy for most. The curtains in our bedroom do too good a job in blocking out the morning sun (on days when it's there)--they were made with that purpose, to help Karel sleep better after his night shifts, but the thick fabric also means I don't get my morning cue to wake up.
The last thing: Rodney King is dead. The LA riots were 20 years ago. I remember seeing the footage of him getting whaled on by the cops. This is probably the earliest social/political event I can remember clearly. It doesn't feel like 20 years has gone by. When you write out "20 years" you feel like you should be referring to another life, not your own. Relativity?