Saturday morning (yesterday) I took a long walk over the hill to Starbucks so I could work on Everyone Loves Blue Dog. I really wanted to finish, but I couldn’t. In fact, there was so much polishing needed, I made notes to myself to go back and polish even more scenes.

We ran some errands on Saturday afternoon, including picking up a book we’d ordered through Indiebound.org. Annoyingly, the automated email told me my order was waiting at the store, but when I got there, half my order (Blood of Ambrose) hadn’t arrived. Annoying. Now I have to go back when it does.

We had our Mother’s Day dinner after that, at the Hi-Life. Salad Eater had the Pork Porterhouse, which she really enjoyed but thought they skimped on the marmalade. Her marscapone polenta was terrific. I had the empanada, and it was so incredible that I have to find a recipe for it. The boy at kid food, and was happy.

After we got home, my wife put my son to bed and we sat down to watch OSS 117: Cairo, Nest of Spies. It’s a French spoof of 60’s spy movies, and it came very highly recommended, but there was a little too much social embarrassment humor for me to bear. The scene where the incredibly self-centered, utterly insensitive protagonist loses his cool at the muezzin for waking him at dawn (the French-speaking hero has no idea that it’s a Arabic call to prayer) was pretty funny… in fact, many scenes were very funny. I just have a low threshold for embarrassment.

Still, the chicken-chucking fight was hilarious.

Then there’s this morning. Today, Mother’s Day, is traditionally a day where I do no writing. I woke early, roused my son, and together we made a nice breakfast for his mom: oatmeal pancakes and sausage patties (both heart-shaped) along with some other treats. It was a happy morning.

After she left, my son’s buddy came over, and we had a super-soaker battle. They soaked me through and through, and I returned the favor.

Finally, they both decided to play at his house. They’re gone now, and I won’t be picking up my son for another two hours. Maybe I’ll get some writing done after all.