So, it’s a wee, small hour of the morning. I just woke up all itchy-scratchy to find my cat meowing and hopping around like mad, pouncing on my butt and back, staring up at the ceiling, hunting a big, fat mosquito and as this is happening, I realize my back, neck and arms are covered in bites. Where am I, the jungle? Where did this guy even come from? I don’t think I’ve gotten a mosquito bite in the city in… well, a long time. But, here we are. And, of course, it was a jolt to wake up with a cat pouncing on one’s ass, so I’m awake. And, it’s a wee, small hour of the morning.

So, let’s see, what can I tell you about? My guest spot at Jewcy shall continue starting Monday, which I’m tickled pink about. I’ll be blogging there, this time, for a month. Very excited about that. I’ll be sure and link as I go.

I went to shul tonight, and wrote a little summary about some things to consider right here (if you are interested in that sort of thing) on the more serious, kicking-around-ideas, meaning-of-life-brainstorm blog I do also. Anyway, I’m sitting there at shul, Leah is there next to me (who saved me from sniffling into paper napkins by producing tissues from her awesome red purse) and suddenly there is a ruckus. And, I mean ruck-us! Long story, but somehow, the rabbi’s wireless lapel microphone was interfered with/interfering with another frequency (just a guess based on the ruckus, but I’m no sound tech) and suddenly we are getting the sound of tuning an old radio super-loudly, then a super-loud shot of Arabic pop music that went on for a few minutes before the rabbi laughed and took off his mic and decided to wing it with the fortune of a loud voice and tonight’s small crowd.

Anyway, I split after, as I still don’t have much of a voice, at least not a non-squeaky one, came home, ate some dinner, played with my cat, talked on the phone a bit, conked out, and that pretty much brings us up the point where I woke up with the cat pouncing on my butt and back as I was being bitten to shit by a mosquito. I have no idea what became of the mosquito, but I’m hiding under the sheets except for my arms and face.

Tomorrow morning, in a hood a bit north of my apartment, there is a huge German heritage festival. (If you are plotting to stalk and/or murder me, by “north” I mean, of course, way way south.) Last year, a few hours before the parade started, a polka band slipped away and decided to warm-up and practice in front of my building. So, we’re talking like 8ish in the morning, meters away from a Polka band. (Yes, I said meters, yes I did. I’m Eurotrash waiting to happen. Or, really, like third-generation Eurotrash still happening. Er, wait, fourth, no, no third. Wait, shit. Whatever. Eurotrash in any case. Which is probably what drew the damn polka band to my building last year in the first place. They saw my name and umlaut on the buzzer and thought, Ja! Die europäische frauline! Die Eurotrashen!)

If the Alsatian (where my people are from) flag wasn’t so funky-looking, I’d hang it out the window in the morning, but who knows what kind of shit that would start? You nevah know when someone will cross your path who is somehow still bent about the WWI/Treaty of Versailles/Woodrow Wilson/Kaiser/League of Nations biznass. Har. But really, Alsatian ain’t a bad set of roots– you get to half-assedly do Oktoberfest and Bastille Day. Sort of. Just with less enthusiasm about polka.

Good grief and holy shit.

That’s my life, kids. Awake at the crack-of-jack, blogging about Eurotrash roots, polka bands and a cat pouncing on my ass. Fascinating, I realize.

Aaaand, right on cue, dicktoast mosquito just flew in and bit my cheek. Nice.