It all starts with some crates and lovely 8-foot by 12-inches (expensive!) lumber. Mr. OmegaMom, see, decided he was tired of the litter of acquaria and associated detritus on the kitchen counter. His solution: a long, low bookcase type affair to be placed against the wall in the living room, acquaria safely ensconced thereupon, and (har) the kitchen counter a gleaming expanse of clutter-free faux butcher block. So he purchased these crates and the lumber. He lovingly sanded them down, then whitewashed them (this was last weekend). He promised OmegaDotter, as a bribe to Leave Him Alone While Whitewashing, that she could help build the assemblage when it came time. There was only one problem. When it came time, it involved drills drilling holes. Loudly. OmegaMom, happily ensconced in the office with the assumption that OmegaDotter and OmegaDad were doing dotter-dadly things, was rudely interrupted by a weeping dotter. "It's noisy!" quoth she, quivering hands covering her ears. Oops. Dotter-dadly bonding time went out the window, tout de suite. Harrumph. So this a.m., Mr. OmegaMom corners OmegaMom, and says, "Could you come up with something to do with the dotter so I can finish the bookcase?" Ya, sure, you betcha. So OmegaMom duly showers, gets dressed, dresses OmegaDotter, endures the Daily Drama of hair-combing, and piles into the Little Green Car with dotter and stuff. OmegaDotter suggests, from the back, "We should go see Grandma Julie!" Hey, good idea, thinks OmegaMom. She trots back into the house to confer with Mr. OmegaMom. (A cell phone would be a Good Thing in situations like this.) He agrees, OmegaMom heads back out to the car, gets in, fishes in her pockets for the key...Oops. OmegaMom trots back into the house for the keys. She gets back into the car, puts the key in the ignition, and...oops. Forgot the Zen. Gotta have the Zen for the hour and a half trip down to OmegaGranny's house. (This was not so a mere month ago. A month ago, OmegaMom would have happily daydreamed on the drive while the dotter slept, coming up with Serious Topics for the blog, redecorating the house, remembering old tunes, all sorts of things. But times change, OmegaMom changes, and it was now Necessary to have the Zen.) OmegaMom trots back into the house, hollers out that she's forgotten the Zen, grabs the Zen, and heads back out. Into the car, puts the Zen down, turns the key in the ignition, and...oops. Forgot the wallet. Gotta have the wallet to pay for the gas to put in the car to drive down the hill to OmegaGranny's house. OmegaMom trots back into the house... Eventually, the whole circus was placed in the car, and mom and dotter headed out, leaving Mr. OmegaMom happily contemplating his (har) clutter-free and gleaming kitchen counter-to-be. Whereupon we come to the peril of Zen. Or the Zen of peril. Or something. OmegaMom hits the highway, motors on up to speed (85MPH, thanks to OmegaMom's lead foot), and grabs the Zen. First, there's the grand untangling. Untangle six feet of various wires and earbuds while keeping one hand on the wheel and (striving) to keep an eye on the road and an eye on the detangling. Various wirey knots untangled later, and numerous quick cuts back into the middle of the lane as she drifted off to the right later, it's time to turn on the Zen. OmegaMom has this little maneuver figured out, so that's no problem. Buuut. Then there's the starting the playlist. OmegaMom, still a neophyte, tries this button and that button (one handed, one eyed), drifts off to the right, cuts back, tries another button, hauls the Zen up onto the steering wheel to examine it more closely, squints at the little screen as the watery sunlight bounces off it at just the right angle, drifts off to the left a wee tad, cuts back, peers some more, damns her eyes. (LASIK, a topic for a future post, is a Wonderful Thing. However, if you're a wuss, like OmegaMom, and just getting geared up for the original surgery took severe moral backbone, going back for the re-touch on the left eye, which is not 20-20, but more like 20-50 [but far far better than the 20-600 it was before], just ain't gonna happen. So OmegaMom damns her eyes now & then.) Finally, all was set, OmegaMom was jammin', and we were (safely) headed down the road. The playlist: Let's go down to the sound tonight Tide is low and we can walk on water Reel me in under that starry light Just like the fisherman's daughter Baby when the bands and the barkers go home They say that Venus she rises From out of the foam She dances on air and laughs at the moon And watches young lovers in fiery dunes - "Walk on Water" - Marc Cohn

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You know that all wanted Was to be there by your side If you didn't want it Well, you should have denied You knew that you were someone special Right form the start But if you treat me badly We'd be better off apart - "Wanted" - The Cranberries

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So we cheated and we lied and we tested. And we never failed to fail; it was the easiest thing to do. You will survive being bested. Somebody fine will come along make me forget about loving you In the Southern Cross. - "Southern Cross" - Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young

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it's a fish white belly a lump in the throat razor on the wire skin and bone piss and blood in a railroad car 100 people gypsies queers and david's star this train is bound for glory this train is bound for glory this train is bound for glory this train - "This Train Revised" - Indigo Girls

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Crickets are chirpin' the water is high There's a soft cotton dress on the line hangin' dry Window's wide open african trees Bent over backwards in a hurricane breeze Not a word, a goodbye, not even a note She's gone with the man in the long black coat Somebody seem him hangin' around At the old dance hall on the outskirts of town He looked into her eyes when she stopped him to ask If he wanted to dance he had a face like a mask Somebody said, from the Bible he quote There was dust on the man in the long black coat - "Man in the Long Black Coat" - Joan Osborne

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I dreamt I saw you walking up a hillside in the snow Casting shadows on the winter sky as you stood there Counting crows One for sorrow two for joy Three for girls and four for boys Five for silver six for gold and Seven for a secret never to be told There's a bird that nests inside you Sleeping underneath your skin When you open up your wings to speak I wish you'd let me in - "Murder of One" - Counting Crows