The other night Alpha was out late on business and I put the kids to bed. Then I drew bugs or sat in front of the PC or both. Then I walked past our bedroom, where Gamma had insisted on sleeping, and heard whispering. In the middle of the night.

I looked, there sat Gamma, apparently asleep. Whispering in her sleep. I carried her to her bed and covered her up.

Beta used to scare me when she was just a little baby, about 6 months old. I’d be sitting in the living room, she’d be asleep in the next room, and I’d suddenly hear whispering. When I checked, she’d be sound asleep.

Meanwhile, braids. It turns out making your hair all wavy by having your dad braid it the night before was a big hit for both girls. Gamma didn’t want to take a bath last night, until I told her I’d wash her hair and braid it while it was still a little damp to give it that cool look today. And Beta’s girlfriends want me to do their hair now, too.

Think like the roach.

[Via some eccentric Belgian site.]

Among all the other body-image realizations my recent bout of nakedness triggered in my skull, the most lasting one was that I could stand to lose a few pounds.

So, once again, I’ve been on the patented Feral Living hi-protein yo-yo diet. It works, for a while at least. So far I’ve digested four kilograms of myself. They should call it by its real name. Not dieting: autocannibalism.

It was windy all night and still is; the sky is blue, all the clouds scoured away. I’m not a big fan of wind but this beats the grey. Still this somehow feels like limbo. Like, as soon as this stressful week is finished, as soon as all the tests are taken and all the meetings are met and all the business dinners are dined and all the concerts finally played and the weekend with the overtime is over we can get on with our lives again. Life, there’s a concept.

Whine, whine, whine. It boils down to I need a haircut, I think. I get this way when I need a haircut. Haircut and a smoke. Man, I’d kill for a smoke. Well, not kill. But you know, this is like, boy, now I know how an addict must feel.

Michele gives DJ the sex talk.
The Bug does the same with his kid.