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Chugging a pot of coffee and smoking cigs at midnight. Technically Im not even a cig smoker, technically Im allergic to cig smoke. Bah! The brand is made right near here on a rez and theyre called Smokin Joe's, befitting your author well. And besides all that, I'm on the warpath today.

There's just something about listening to my baby scream in pain half the day that makes me want to kill people.

Ever have to give a 2 year old an enema? And why is it that my life has revolved around cleaning up other peoples' shit?

Synchronocity got the best of me today. Its chokehold was so tight that I lost my temper with my baby grrl, and I'll never forgive myself for that transgression. But sweeping that under the rug for now let's get back to the synchronocity. No matter how much I change, how far I travel, how long I age... it always comes back to me being let down by a drunk man. Today it aligned like this: After struggling with Cass for an hour I finally gave in and asked Scott for some help. "Can you come in here and hold her legs please?" "Jesus Christ doesnt she have her own father?!" oh yeah, he really did say that! I laughed, by this point I was crying... I mean within 30 seconds of my baby crying I start crying too, so most of the day I was freaking out... but here when he said this I laughed "usually gravity is my mortal enemy but today it's synchronocity" he was on beer #4 45 minutes after beer #1... but at least he was curious enough to ask what the fuck I was talking about "no matter what I do or where I go, all paths lead to a drunk man watching nascar" he wanted to leave right then and go hang out with his "farmer" friend (the guy's got a tractor and a cow and thinks he's motherfucken Old MacDonald) but was courteous enough to run to the drug store for baby laxative first. "I'll be right back, I cant take the crying anymore, Im running over to Billy's to see if someone will sell me a bowlfull." Three hours later after the mommy-vs-baby enema throwdown of the century, and mommy putting a pot roast in the oven and various other chores- I loaded Cass up and drove over there to fetch him. Good thing I turned the roast down cuz it took an hour to get him outta there. He was MUCH more drunk than everybody else, and quite an embarassment all around. Too drunk to drive home and too drunk to give up the keys and ride with me, I let him drive, wishing him safe passage through the newly constructed narrow concrete train tunnel of death, but secretly hoping he'd sideswipe his car through it.... Upon safe arrival he refused dinner and like all who fell before him, was passed out in the chair, beer in hand, within 30 minutes.

Not having much appetite, Cass and I made long work of our plate. I watched 300, which only reignited the blood lust, and I only half explained the carnage to Cass as she drifted off to sleep. I tossed pillows under Scott's knees and neck, covered up both babies and began rehashing it all to you after a quick pitstop-slash-freakout in the shower.

I think Im going to go back to Canandaigua tomorrow. Right now there're meteors to be had.

Always remember to quit while you're ahead.

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