Call me wacky, but I am so delightfully happy to be home alone on a Friday night, well into a second glass of really terrific Pinot Noir and watching “An American in Paris”. My body aches from head to foot- this is the first time I’ve done three spin classes in one week- and I hurt in places I never knew I had muscles. This happens to me after really rigorous yoga as well- last night, as I stretched out on my stomach (over a bunched-up pillow so the girls could breathe) I realized that I was sore between my shoulder blades in a way I’d not experienced… that I’m sure was directly related to “eagle warrior”. All this to say, it’s incredible to feel my body change, and to work extremely hard all week, and be home where it is warm and I have a little space to be dreamy, both about what is going on right now, and what might happen in the fall.

Anyway, there are a few things I’d like to recommend to the world at large, because they are making me very happy:

The Treo 680.

Christ, I love this phone. My dear sis gave me a Treo 650, but a couple of the buttons didn’t work and the place where the SIM card lived had seen too many soy coffee drinks- or so said the guy at Cingular. Regardless, her phone finally got me to kick Sprint to the curb (after 9 years of torture) and showed me the SmartPhone light. This device is incredible- lightweight, crazy fast, no visible antenna, intuitive, superfast email & web, great sound quality, etc. I love it.

My iMac at work.

Bestest, sexiest, hottest, fastest, most awesomest desktop computer EVER. I love all the new versions of software, love the quality & size of the screen, love it, love it, love it. Want to have babies with it. Want to make it breakfast.

All Stonewear Designs yoga clothes:

Their cotton jersey line is the greatest line of yoga pants (and tops) I’ve ever owned. Stretchy, clingy without being form-fitting, terrific for those of us with small frames but ample, um, apendages. I can wear the bra tops, and only the bra tops (without another sports bra) on the treadmill (as long as I’m not all-out running for any length of time.) I like their stuff so much, I wrote them a dorky letter, which so effusive it was forwarded all around the company.

Candy corn.

Why do I love this fake-wax-not-even-food so much? I could eat bags of this stuff every day. Just thinking about it makes me all kinds of happy. I’m insane for candy corn. I can’t stop myself. And if you look hard enough, you can find it year-round.

That’s what I got for a Friday night. I suggest using & enjoying all of the above on the same day.

After working a 10 1/2 hour day, I went to an opening tonight for all of the folks who create art at Napa Valley Support Services. This came on the heels of a online discussion with some friends about the parents who have surgically altered their extremely developmentally disabled little girl. These parents opted for surgeries that keep the girl eternally young, small, and asexualized, and I had a very strong negative reaction to what they had chosen to do. But tonight I spent the evening surrounded by art- beautiful, moving, colorful, vibrant art- made by men and women in their 30’s and 40’s who either live in group homes or with their parents, many of whom are completely non-verbal.

You certainly wouldn’t have looked at all the art and known that it was made by severely mentally disabled people. It was all expressionistic, but that’s nothing really unusual. But- they have these huge flat files for each artist/patient/student, and the guy who runs the program pulled out some of the files to show us, and then you figured out pretty quickly that the artist was… well, I would say “obsessed” if I didn’t know better. Each flat file was filled with picture after picture of basically the exact same image, or something very close. One woman only drew horizons, one color for the ground, one for the sky, one for the sun, all in thick, thick crayon, but there were thousands- quite literally thousands- of the pictures. She had numerous books filled as well as loose papers. Every one was slightly different, or very different, as far as the colors. It was like a color study. But the violence with which she used the crayons and the repetition of the image was haunting.

I met a couple of the artists, and I met the man who is running the program, and I feel so completely ashamed and humbled, that I would know the first f*cking thing about what it would mean to take care of someone who is that disabled. And these people feel- god, do they feel, it’s all over their art- and I wonder what it must be like, to be trapped like that, or maybe, to be completely and utterly set free like that. I don’t know which it is. I have no clue. People talk about me doing “great work”. I know I do important work, that is meaningful and what not, but the man I met tonight, who is running this art program, broke my heart. He showed me, simply by how he spoke of the student’s work, and of the progress so many of them have made over the past year, and by how he enveloped me in love when I first walked in the door, just what doing really great work in this world means. There is so much I don’t know, so much I haven’t seen, so much hardship that I’ve never come close to experiencing. It’s difficult to take. I’m a little bit afraid of these folks, these severely disabled people, and even more so now that I’ve seen what is inside of them, waiting to be expressed, and I don’t want to be afraid. But there is so much to fix, I don’t know where to start.

I am just back from eleven days in New York, where I experienced a familexplosion. I was staying with Sean, Jordi, Barnaby, Mom, and Steve, and also got lots of face time with Kent, Sean Patrick, Lucas, Ian, Tessa, and Lucy. And that’s just the immediate family. It was intense, and truly wonderful. And here’s every last little one of us.

Early in the trip, the Iowa Williams showed up, and I had a terrific evening in the city with the elder Williams kids and elder nephews.

Brothers Steve and Kent… and, well, vintage Kent…

Sean Patrick and Lucas were awesome as always. Lucas is always available for the keenest comments on all things random and hilarious, and I hope Sean will be on my team when I save the world. Sean Patrick for president 2020!

Sweet Barnaby was the highlight of the trip, particularly his penchant for squeezing his own face whenever his hands are free. He also has a habit of sleeping on one fist, just like his Daddo.

Christmas Eve in Brooklyn was a quasi-dressy family & friends event during which Lucy was in rare form. Her favorite fellow 2-year-old Hank was in tow, and Lucy spent much of the evening with her arms wrapped tightly around him. I was able to snap this pic during one of the few times she actually let go, for sake of banging on the piano with Hank and Daddo.

Tessa and Lucy, adorably, matched that evening, and I’m always stunned that any ‘ol pic of Tessa that even I, with my untrained eye, happen to snap, always shows Tessa’s stately beauty. These two just kill me.

I spent a great deal of time with Barnaby at the Christmas Eve party, letting his parents be human beings for a couple of hours. Only days old, this little one already locks on your face with his huge dark eyes, and if you swing him (which he dearly loves) he will watch the shadows play on your face, on the walls, whatever he can see. He is the sweetest of the sweet.

Ian, Lucy, and a “Spicasso” print.

The joy I felt in hanging out with this little one is apparent; the joy she felt about eating a “clem-men-ti-YEEEN” was no less rich. She wouldn’t stop for love, money, OR a picture.

Finally, Christmas Day was upon us, and I think all of us scored an embarrassment of goodies and gifts. My very first completed knitting project was a shawl for little Lucy, and she loved it. She loved it more when she decided to wear it as a skirt.

This might be my favorite pic from that day. Barnaboots was the greatest gift, for all of us, this year. I can’t wait until he’s big enough to rip the wrapping off of presents and he and Lucy make forts with all of the gift boxes.

Soon, though, Christmas was over, and the Queens Williams household settled back into baby time. At any given moment, someone in that house was almost always up, or about to wake, to cater to the little one. I, however, slept about ten hours a night and spent spurts of time working in a nearby coffee shop. But one of the nicest hours I spent was with my mom at the Bryant Park ice rink & holiday shops. It wasn’t too cold, we had the most terrific hot chocolates, and mom told me about the farm she lived on when she was little. Festive, fun, and we got to watch hundreds of people giggle madly as they slowly scooted around the rink.

I also got the rare chance to hang out with my dear friend Eddie. We went to many of my old haunts in the East Village; the night ended in another state. Good times, good times.

Because I can’t help myself, another pic of little La Luce, sitting on a present, quietly reading a book during the Christmas Day chaos.

And finally, a pic of terrible quality since it was taken on my Treo, but my favorite pic of the season. Sweet Barnaby, our little Christmas baby.

I can’t wait to go back.