Happy New Year

"The I.C." At Dusk. I took this photo a few days ago, after a family pizza-fest at Pagliai's Pizza (home of the finest pies this side of Chi-town). Eleanor loves pizza. But, then, who don't?

Right now the Eleanor of whom I speak is grabbing a little shuteye. Poor thing's been sick the last few days. Nausea, vomiting and diarrhea (or "NVD," as they used to say in the wacked-out parlance of the Emergency Room) mostly. No appetite and nothing that'll stay down. But now the tempest seems to have passed and she's just catching up on her REM cycles. There's not many things more pitiful or compelling than a little baby projectile vomiting in the middle of the night, calling out, "Mama? Pa? Mama?"

I've decided that I'm teaching The Autobiography of Malcolm X next semester. So I'm adding that to my List Of Things To Read over the next three weeks. It'll be interesting to teach X in a way that doesn't sugarcoat or spoon-feed it. I remember being 19 when I first read it and was fairly blown away by it. I'm calling my class "The Rhetoric of Dissent." We're gonna be talking about urban dance, punk rock, Valerie Solanas, rap music, and outlaw literature as well as a bunch of other sexy stuff. Whatever crosses my mind, really.

Janelle just called from work. She's coming home a little early. Had a cancellation. What's that woman doing working on New Year's Day anyway? Accruing merits immeasurable. If I we were all clients, we'd all be exceedingly lucky to find a therapist like my esposa loca.