• A coffee-stained galley of Cancer Is a Bitch, the UNBELIEVABLY FABULOUS memoir of writer friend Gail Konop Baker.
• 233 birth certificates of Little League players, waiting to be scanned then shredded.
• Notebook and voice recorder documenting recent trip to Vancouver BC for upcoming travel article. The Little Guy was mortified by the voice recorder. “Do you have to do that in public?” he kept hissing. Yes, yes I do.
• A stack of tourism brochures from Vancouver BC. See previous item.
• 2 pairs of reading glasses which I totally don’t need.
• The Big Guy’s expired driver’s license.
• A goldleaf prayer tower made by artist Holden McCurry. The middle is hollowed out and contains my most secret wish scribbled on a small piece of paper. No I’m not telling.
• A ceramic cat painted by the Little Guy.
• A cat brush.
• A serrated bread knife. Not to be used at the same time as the cat brush.
• A stuffed mouse that an old friend gave me to remind me that overwhelming tasks can be accomplished by nibbling like a mouse.
• An empty coffee cup, still warm.
• A scrap of paper with my friend’s husband’s cell phone number.
• 6 CDs by Alison Krauss, Keb Mo, and the B-52s that I mean to import into iTunes for maximum iPod playage.
• A golden dragonfly in memory of my friend K.
• A small glass bowl with nine polished black stones; a memorial to what was lost.
• A large colorful metal gecko from my friend G.
• A vitamin B capsule.
• An RCA small wonder, full of cool video that is absolutely useless to me because I cannot figure out how to transfer the files to my computer.
• My muse, Celeste, which to mortal eyes appears to be a headless dress form, painted blue. In addition to silently inspiring me, she holds my Skype headset.

What’s on your desk?

To be fair, MomBrain is being just the tiniest bit ungrateful. After all, the Guys had been eating nonstop pizza and take-out for a week while she sunned herself in Mexico. So who can blame the malnourished Big Guy for hoping that actual food would appear upon her return?

Truly, if Steven Covey himself were to ask me to identify the single most important thing I could do for my family, it would be to get control of dinner. Make a meal plan. Do the shopping. Prepare ahead of time. Serve it hot. But in fact the daily question “What’s for dinner?” is the single most challenging part of my day. I do not enjoy cooking, both of the Guys are picky but hungry eaters, and left to my own devices I would subsist on tea and toast. What’s for dinner? I just don’t know.

Peelings, woo-o-o peeling it,
woo-o-o, peeling again in my arms …

Adios amigos!

Oh yes.