Modest Goddess

There are few things as blissful as lying on your back and eating chocolate Easter bunny while listening to Beethoven's Sixth Symphony. That's what fourth-grade me would say, shortly before chomping through the ears, head and most of the bunny torso and then realizing I had to chuck the rest out of self-preservation. Beethoven's been like comfort food to me the past couple of weeks. I have a great German recording of the Pastorale on CD (Who else could do Beethoven like the Germans?) and I'm playing it in the car during my commute, trying to pay attention to every movement and subtlety. It reminds me of the fact I can still love things, although I often feel ambivalent. One-thirty in the morning is probably not the time to be worried about this -- fatigue flattens all emotions -- but sometimes I wish someone could give me a happy injection, and I could get more engaged in life.

One of Little Big Man's philosophical questions lately has been, "How do I grow DOWN?" He also wants to know who Thomas the Tank Engine's mommy is.