The Fire Fairy Cometh.

Sneaky Pete and the Textiles, one night only, rhythm and blues revue...

I am back in shame and defeat, here to write a weekly recap then scurrying away to take more time off, because I’m a selfish, selfish bastard.  All my great intentions for reworking the blog dissolved into the effervescent effluvium of my daily failings.  So I want a bit more time to do that, if you please.

But enough about what I’m terrible at.  Here’s the latest:

1. Our Twin Town Adult Jam band, Sneaky Pete and the Textiles, went on as planned and played a little 6 song set, some of which actually came close to resembling the songs they were based upon.  It was a dumptruck-load-full of fun, and was deemed a success, in that nobody suffered a heart attack or a migraine afterwards.  We did pretty well, honestly; not our best, but pretty good.  I was nervous.  I messed up a ton of shit, but it’s okay, cause it’s not like you can tell when the drummer screws up or anything.

2. The girls are streaming ceaselessly cute little 3 year old quotes.  It’s like Bill Cosby is hovering in a helicopter over our house, raining “cute” down on us from above.  I’m so used to the girls spewing out some twitter/facebook-ready gold, I’m actually surprised when it doesn’t happen.  For example: a few days ago Lily was balancing on the end rail of her bed, when she slipped awkwardly and kinda landed right on her crotch.  She slid off the bed in pain, but not enough pain to really cry, face just screwed up a bit, her hands clutching her vagina.  ‘Oooh, this is going to be GREAT!’, I thought.  A few seconds passed, and she finally just shrugged her shoulders barely, said, “I think I hit my hand,” and went back to playing.  I was crushed.

3. Tonight we have been paid a visit.  A very special visit.  By the Fire Fairy.  Most people aren’t aware of who the Fire Fairy is and what she does, so allow me to explain.  She is a theoretical construct who magically comes to parents who are too chicken-shit to just say no to their kids when it comes to pacifiers; her job is to bestow upon those parents the ability to throw 6 pacifiers into the kitchen trash and replace them with a 5 foot tall princess tent, a tent so large it is creating a physical difficulty for one parent to watch “Team America: World Police” while he blogs.  The Fire Fairy is indeed a mystical being.

All the little piggies, ready to get tossed and, by way of the city of minneapolis, incinerated.

…epilogue: Lily started wailing around 1am.  “Daaaaaddddddyyyy!”  (my jury is still out as to whether I do or do not like when I am singled out in this sort of situation.  I wonder what makes them cry for one of us but not the other.  It seems totally random.  Even better, it doesn’t make two licks o’ difference who goes in.  She could cry for me for 10 minutes, and if Jen goes in, she’s just fine with that)

So I go in.  She had a bad dream, she was visibly upset, I felt powerless to help, aside from the normal snuggling.  Lily watched me reach into the corner of the bed for something, and she instinctively reached out and weasled her little fingers into my hand.

She thought I had grabbed her fire, and she was trying to get it from me.  Awwww.  Gonna be a shitty few nights, I think.

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So while it may be spotty posting for a bit, I have a couple book reviews in the works, so expect those shortly.  Happy times.