Uncle Jake in Iowa

The first 24 hours have been nothing but fun:

* The Snowperson Mall. My nephew's kindergarten teacher had invited assorted parents, volunteers and homosexual uncles from Chicago to come help the kids purchase the materials they needed to build custom snowpersons this afternoon. Each kid was given fifteen cents and set loose amid a sea of tables hawking such wares as popsicle sticks, flattened bottlecaps, ribbons, macaroni pieces and plastic forks -- all a penny apiece. I was the proprieter of the shop selling feathers, buttons and felt letters of the alphabet. And our little shoppers were incredibly well-behaved as they agonized over crucial decisions like pink vs. red feathers, budgeted their assets and made their purchases. Except for one boy who was QUITE upset with me for running the shop that took his last penny and thus ending his extravagant spending spree.

* My sister's boneless, co-dependant kitty. Remember Lucy? My sister got her for her birthday last June. She's now a full-grown cat, and my hyperkinetic destructo-niece has transformed her from a docile, lap-craving sack of fur to a cowering, corner-dwelling, talk-to-the-paw husk of her former self who still craves attention but fears (rightfully so) enduring any more Hugs Of Death.

* My old stomping grounds. Yesterday afternoon I stopped by the theater where I did shows for 10 years before moving to Chicago, and I had a lovely visit with old friends like Margaret, Amanda and Richard. And I ate WAY too many Hershey's Kisses. Urp.

* Melting my cold, black heart. We asked my nephew last night if it would be OK if Uncle Jake slept on his bottom bunk, and the look on his face -- as though SANTA CLAUS had just appeared in a BASKETBALL OUTFIT on a FIRE TRUCK carrying a GIANT RACE CAR -- just melted me. Melt. Ed. Me.

Now we're off to my niece's music class. Stay tuned for details of more adventures ...