(no subject)

The book I fell in love with a few days ago was Helen Oyeyemi's Mr. Fox. I finished it this morning and I'm still in love. This is easily one of the best books I've read in a while.

Those of you who have read the book and know about my, er, concern with dead girls in fiction will understand why I fell so hard. But there's a lot more going on in there than just that. Ultimately the book doesn't slake my rage around that particular issue because it winds up doing something much more complex, and I am quite grateful for it.

In other news

A taxi caught (or was set) on fire last night at about 2 am, right next door to us. Flames and fire trucks and honking horns galore. The kids slept through it. I didn't.

Yes, she did.

Simone: "Mommy, are we genderqueer?"