Absurdity catches me by the tail and spins me around. I feel my burdens slip away as I look into its silly, kind eyes.

We now have tides in our basement. High tide likes to sneak up on us, jumping out from behind a tree and screaming “BOO! Gotcha!” Low tide takes its time, stopping for pastries and coffee, always here later than we’d like.

The trees that used to beckon launched a full-on aerial attack, missing the house by a few feet.

Things change.

The trees are gone, changing 10 years of landscape and shade and, well, meaning. The anti-team sports child plays lacrosse. The massive, end-of-the-world issue from way back in January is resolved and I am gaining, what’s that word? Oh yes. Perspective.

I wonder how I’ll make it through another seemingly endless stretch from when I dolphin-kick  into my first morning lap — the warm up before endurance work, the endurance work before sprints — and when my head hits the pillow.

And I wait for absurdity to grab me by the tail and spin me around one more time, making me laugh as I look in its kind eyes and leave the burdens behind, one by one, in the deep end.

I’m experimenting with cool fx for the iPhone. It’s a fun, useful app for 99 cents.

Also? If we don’t score another dog for the ‘doodle soon, we’re going to spend the entire winter of ’10 freezing our toes off at the dog park.

Earlier today I tweeted “I sit on the floor, sorting months of mail. File, recycle, shred. The cat and dog have their morning brawl atop the neat stacks. Thanks guys.”

It’s quite the spring break I’m having here. I’ve now made two runs to the dump (details to follow in a guest blog post soon – believe me, I’ll be linking to it since it’s the only writing of any sort I’ve done in at least a month). The utensil drawer is sparkling clean. I can see the floor in my closet.

Short on fun. Long on productivity. I think the animals are encouraging me to abandon the house and go soak up the sun while it’s shining.

But first I’ve got to get to the bottom of a drawer or two…

“Week two of my double pink eye infection. Going to dr now,” I texted Joe.

From 3000 miles away came the hilarious response.  “You must look like a lemur.”

A few years ago, I became exceptionally susceptible to pink eye. I had it 5 times within 3 months. That was before we changed swim clubs. ‘Nuff said.

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Did you ever decide, before going on a high-visibility business trip to France, that you wanted to feel really chic and great about yourself? Did you ever then book a hair appointment for 36 hours before getting on the plane, and then for some reason think copper highlights sounded like a good idea? Heck, since your son has hair the color of a brand new, shiny penny… shouldn’t copper highlights look great on your brown hair?

Did you ever end up with chunky streaks of red, strongly resembling the yarn on top of Raggedy Ann’s head? Or, to be more accurate, the exact same color as the color of the bush in your back yard you’d been prattling on about all week?

Do you know what really fixes the problem?

Scissors.

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So here’s the thing: staying at a resort hotel while traveling on business blows. Especially when it’s a resort that’s located in The Happiest Place on Earth.

Most people who stay at hotels where business travelers hang out completely understand the rules of the road. Walk to the right. No surprise movements. And sweet Moses on roller skates: NO MEANDERING. Here, it’s a totally different ball of wax. I might think I’m the bee’s knees in my suit and heels, but the tank top and flip flops crowd look at me like I am an alien before they get in my way when I’m trying to get from point A to point B without colliding with a stroller.

Thanks to great ventilation, I’ve been able to chase the stink of the bug spray out of my room. But I can’t do anything about the painting on the wall. It’s a faux late-1800s merry-go-round scene, featuring people in their straw hats and bustles enjoying the ride and the beautiful evening. And, oh, wait, what’s that in the background? Why, yes. Of course. Cinderella’s castle.

It’s almost enough to convince me that this place has been here forever, and that it’s not built on top of a swamp / Indian burial ground.

Almost.

I’m not here.

(OK, OK, you’re right, I’m here. I’m trying to make it look like I’m not here. These people with their questions and their projects and their deadlines and their delusions that I have answers won’t leave me alone. I’m staying here until they all go away. Or until I’ve emptied my email inbox. Whichever comes first.)

So, I’m not here. Now where could I be?  Why, look! There I am! Over at Whit’s place, prattling on about god knows what*! Go, go, check it out! And bring the irate, pitchfork-wielding crowd gathered outside my door along with you!

*I’m pretty sure the little guy made it. I found something dead in the basement this morning, but it definitely wasn’t him. Too big.

It’s the Season of the Freak Out at work. 2009 budgeting, two huge client events mere weeks away, all-day planning  meetings scheduled from 8 am until well into the night every day of next week…

But enough about my misery. It’s not terribly entertaining.  But Helen’s and Jacob’s misery; well, that’s a horse of a different color.

Pop yourself a nice big bowl of popcorn, get (un)comfortable and watch while Helen and Jacob explore every nook and cranny of their marriage with their counselor. The link will take you to one of four sessions currently available for your viewing pleasure.

It was a small luxury in the midst of the pre-vacation rush. As I made plans to finish several work projects, close on the house refi, host a birthday party for my sons and get out of Dodge, I booked an appointment for highlights and a trim.

His assistant had just washed my hair, careful to use the special don’t-look-askance-at-me-or-I’ll-wilt shampoo for curls. We chatted about our children as he assessed which rake and hedge clippers to select for today’s trim. We know each other well, but I could tell he was a little embarrassed and very concerned.  “PATTY,” he said with barely concealed panic in his voice, “ARE YOU BLEEDING FROM YOUR EAR?”

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